Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Fmr. Pres. Katzav sentenced to 7 years in prison; day of both shame and pride for Israel
Former Israeli President Moshe Katzav was sentenced to seven years in prison for his conviction on rape and other charges. On the one hand, for Israel it is a day of sadness and shame that a former President so debased his high office by heinous criminal behavior. On the other hand, Israel can also be proud that even someone who held the highest office in the country was not above the law and was brought to justice for his crimes. The fact that Israel prosecutes even high prominent officials for their crimes, which was then reported on Al Jazeera, may have helped to fuel the discontent against corruption in Egypt, Tunisia and other Arab nations.
Monday, March 21, 2011
If Arabs don't want NATO leading in Libya, then let them step up
French Foreign Minister Alain Juppe said that Arab nations do not want the Libya intervention operation under NATO control. OK, then. If the Arabs do not want NATO leadership, then let them step up. It was the Arab League, surprisingly, that got the diplomatic ball rolling to get the UN Security Council to authorize the No Fly Zone etc. operation in Libya. Now that the resolution is adopted and the operation has begun, where is the Arab leadership and participation? Next door to Libya is Egypt. While Egypt is undergoing political transition, the military is firmly in control for now and the Egyptian military is equipped with 300 F-16 fighters with American-trained pilots and has a large, well equipped ground force. Where is Egypt? Saudi Arabia has squadrons of F-15 and F-16 fighter jets with American-trained pilots. Where are the Saudis? So far, the big Arab participation in Libya is four Qatari fighter jets. If the Arabs do not want NATO to lead in Libya, let's see them step up and do the heavy lifting.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Should we remove our shoes in the synagogue?
Is it more appropriate to wear shoes or to be barefoot inside a synagogue? Depending on the culture in which one lives, that answer may seem obvious but the answer is not clear cut. We begin with the Torah.
Now Moses was keeping the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian; and he led the flock to the farthest end of the wilderness, and came to the mountain of God, to Horeb. And the angel of the LORD appeared to him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush; and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed. And Moses said: 'I will turn aside now, and see this great sight, why the bush is not burnt.' And when the LORD saw that he turned aside to see, God called to him out of the midst of the bush, and said: 'Moses, Moses.' And he said: 'Here am I.' And He said, "do not come closer; remove your shoes from your feet for the place where you stand is holy ground." Shemot (Exodus) 3:1-5
Thus began Moses' dramatic encounter with God at the burning bush. Moses’ action at the burning bush provided a precedent in subsequent generations to remove the sandals as a sign of respect for a sacred place. Mishna Berakhot (9.5) says: "One may not enter the Holy Mount of the Temple with one's staff, or with one's shoes on or with one's money belt." Since a synagogue is considered a "minor Temple," the question arises whether the above rule applies also to synagogues. This is discussed in Tractate Berakhot (63a), and Rabba is of the opinion that the ways of showing respect in the synagogue are deduced from the practice in the home, not the Temple: "Just as in a private person's home one does not want it to serve as a thoroughfare for strangers, but one does not mind spitting within the home or wearing footwear, so too, the synagogue must not be used as a thoroughfare, but spitting and footwear are permitted."
Indeed, Maimonides ruled that a person may enter the synagogue with one's staff, shoes, and money belt. Maimonides' ruling in Hilkhot Tefillah 11.10 follows the practice in Babylonia, but it was customary in the land of Israel to remove one's shoes before entering a synagogue. The Jerusalem Talmud, Bava Metzia 2, 9, tells the following story: "Judah b. Rabbi went into a synagogue and left his sandals outside, and they were stolen. He said, 'Had I not gone into the synagogue, my sandals would not have been stolen.'" Professor Eliezer Bashan of Bar Ilan University noted in a 2002 essay, “The fact that well-preserved mosaic floors of synagogues from the Byzantine period have survived in Israel is further evidence that those who prayed there walked barefoot.”
Prof. Bashan further notes that not only in Israel but also in certain places in the Diaspora it was customary to remove one's shoes before entering a synagogue. He notes that this was the practice, for example, among the Jews of Yemen.
A halakhic discussion of this question is found in a responsum by Rashbash (Rabbi Solomon b. Simeon b. Tzemah of Duran, Algeria, d. 1467) to a dayan [judge or leader] in Bejaia, a city in eastern Algeria. At this time, Jews were migrating from Spain to Algeria after the pogrom and oppressive decrees in the Christian part of Spain in 1391. These Jews from Spain, most of which was again under Christian rule by this time, had been living among Christians and in Christian lands, it was not customary to remove shoes before entering a church so the Jews did not remove their shoes before entering a synagogue.
These Jews were held in contempt by the Muslims in Algeria and found themselves at odds in practice with local Jews for whom the custom was to remove their shoes before entering the synagogue. The Spanish Jews undertook to change their practice to remove their shoes but as in any congregation, there were those who objected to change. They cited the ruling of Maimonides who was quite familiar with Muslim practices and culture who had nevertheless ruled that it was permitted to wear shoes in the synagogue. The congregation submitted their dispute to Rashbash who was from Spain himself.
Rashbash responded that the practice was a matter of respect. When in the synagogue one is respecting God and a holy place but what constitutes respect varies depending on social norms. In Christian countries, it was the norm and not disrespectful to enter a church or to appear before the monarch wearing shoes. However, in Muslim countries, it was considered a sign of contempt to appear before a king wearing shoes so if it was disrespectful in those lands to appear in shoes before a living king, then it was also disrespectful to appear before God wearing shoes. In Christian countries, people would wear their shoes in their homes until going to bed but in Muslim countries people took care to remove their shoes before entering the house to avoid bringing in dirt. Therefore, in a Muslim country, one should not dirty the house of God by wearing shoes.
Rashbash concludes, "Therefore it is a good thing which they sought to do, to avoid being held in contempt by the nation that thought us contemptuous." In other words, he encouraged that community to decide that everyone should remove their shoes so they would not be held in contempt by the Muslim majority. (Resp. Rashbash, Leghorn 1742, par. 285). In short, certain religious practices depend on the cultural environment. (Eliezer Bashan, Bar Ilan University Parashat Hashavua Center January 5, 2002)
I suggest that here in America, we live in a multicultural, pluralistic society and this is not, contrary to assertions of some politicians, a per se Christian country. Indeed there are varying customs among families whether they wear shoes or not in their homes. There is thus cultural flexibility about whether it is appropriate to wear or to remove shoes in the synagogue.
Having addressed the question of whether or not to remove shoes, the question then is why this is commanded in the first place. There are some instances when the ground was considered holy because of God’s presence. Midrash Shemot Rabba tells us that it is forbidden to wear shoes in a place where the Shechinah dwells such as the Temple Mount. However, there can be another way to view this as Rabbi Rob Eisen does:
Based on the teaching of the Hafetz Hayim (Israel Meir Ha-Kohen, 1838–1933), Rabbi Eisen suggests that “when God calls out to Moses, He is teaching him that it is not the ground itself that is holy, but, rather, Moses’ presence that makes it so. The ground is holy because Moses is standing there, because he paused to acknowledge the presence of the burning bush. Our parasha teaches us that, whether sitting or standing, whatever our present place might be, that place—every place! --has the potential to become holy. What makes any particular place holy is determined by our presence: the way we are living our lives, whether or not we pause to acknowledge the way God appears to us in our day, whether we recognize the burning bushes that can be ignited by our response to God’s presence in our lives. Moses is told: 'The place on which you stand is holy ground,' and we are reminded that in every place and in every moment, we have the potential of drawing closer to God, and drawing God closer to us. It all depends on what we see when we consider where we are in our lives, and where we yet can go.”
My favorite explanation I found of the reason for removing shoes and why we should consider doing so today comes from Rabbi Shraga Pollack of Hungary. In his 1929 work Tishbi, he suggested:
“When a person wears shoes, he can walk without exercising care as to where he walks. With his feet protected by sturdy shoes, a person can step wherever he wants. However, when a person walks barefoot, he cannot step everywhere. He cannot walk freely and must look carefully in front of his feet before every step to protect his feet from injury.”
Rabbi David Silverberg of Yeshivat Har Etzion explaining this passage explains that the image of great caution in choosing where to walk describes the essence of kedusha – of holiness. Rabbi Silverberg writes, “A life of holiness means a life of careful discretion, of restraint, of thinking very carefully before reaching decisions and performing actions. A person who lives a sacred life is not free to 'walk' wherever he wishes; he must carefully assess every situation and accordingly decide upon the best course of action. This is manifest very clearly in the Beit Ha-mikdash [the Temple], where the many restrictions and specific guidelines necessitated a particularly high level of vigilance on the part of the officiating kohanim. The Talmud comments on many occasions, "Kohanim zerizin heim" – the kohanim were – by necessity – very meticulous and careful in their work in the Mikdash, due to the rigorous demands of the Temple service. This aura of vigilance characterizes a life of kedusha, which means exercising care before every step one takes. Outside the Mikdash, of course, one is permitted the wear shoes. The Torah certainly does not impose the standards that apply in the Temple to daily life outside the sacred precincts of the Beit Ha-mikdash. Nevertheless, we, too, are bidden, "Kedoshim tihyu," [you shall be holy] - to apply the general concepts of kedusha, which are manifest in extreme fashion in the Temple, to our day-to-day life. We, like the kohanim, must carefully watch our steps, and remember that not every mode of conduct is appropriate for the lives of kedusha that we are to live.” (Rabbi David Silverberg, Surf a Little Torah, Parashat Shemot, Yeshivat Har Etzion)
Perhaps if all us, whether lay leaders, members of congregations or rabbis adopted the practice of taking our shoes off at the door, and going about inside the synagogue with bare feet, we would be constantly reminded of this truth. Perhaps without physical shoes that let us walk wherever and on whatever whatever we want, perhaps we would also lose those mental and spiritual shoes that enable us to walk on and over whomever we wish, and we would exercise greater care in what we do, what we say and how we do it and say it.
Now Moses was keeping the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian; and he led the flock to the farthest end of the wilderness, and came to the mountain of God, to Horeb. And the angel of the LORD appeared to him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush; and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed. And Moses said: 'I will turn aside now, and see this great sight, why the bush is not burnt.' And when the LORD saw that he turned aside to see, God called to him out of the midst of the bush, and said: 'Moses, Moses.' And he said: 'Here am I.' And He said, "do not come closer; remove your shoes from your feet for the place where you stand is holy ground." Shemot (Exodus) 3:1-5
Thus began Moses' dramatic encounter with God at the burning bush. Moses’ action at the burning bush provided a precedent in subsequent generations to remove the sandals as a sign of respect for a sacred place. Mishna Berakhot (9.5) says: "One may not enter the Holy Mount of the Temple with one's staff, or with one's shoes on or with one's money belt." Since a synagogue is considered a "minor Temple," the question arises whether the above rule applies also to synagogues. This is discussed in Tractate Berakhot (63a), and Rabba is of the opinion that the ways of showing respect in the synagogue are deduced from the practice in the home, not the Temple: "Just as in a private person's home one does not want it to serve as a thoroughfare for strangers, but one does not mind spitting within the home or wearing footwear, so too, the synagogue must not be used as a thoroughfare, but spitting and footwear are permitted."
Indeed, Maimonides ruled that a person may enter the synagogue with one's staff, shoes, and money belt. Maimonides' ruling in Hilkhot Tefillah 11.10 follows the practice in Babylonia, but it was customary in the land of Israel to remove one's shoes before entering a synagogue. The Jerusalem Talmud, Bava Metzia 2, 9, tells the following story: "Judah b. Rabbi went into a synagogue and left his sandals outside, and they were stolen. He said, 'Had I not gone into the synagogue, my sandals would not have been stolen.'" Professor Eliezer Bashan of Bar Ilan University noted in a 2002 essay, “The fact that well-preserved mosaic floors of synagogues from the Byzantine period have survived in Israel is further evidence that those who prayed there walked barefoot.”
Prof. Bashan further notes that not only in Israel but also in certain places in the Diaspora it was customary to remove one's shoes before entering a synagogue. He notes that this was the practice, for example, among the Jews of Yemen.
A halakhic discussion of this question is found in a responsum by Rashbash (Rabbi Solomon b. Simeon b. Tzemah of Duran, Algeria, d. 1467) to a dayan [judge or leader] in Bejaia, a city in eastern Algeria. At this time, Jews were migrating from Spain to Algeria after the pogrom and oppressive decrees in the Christian part of Spain in 1391. These Jews from Spain, most of which was again under Christian rule by this time, had been living among Christians and in Christian lands, it was not customary to remove shoes before entering a church so the Jews did not remove their shoes before entering a synagogue.
These Jews were held in contempt by the Muslims in Algeria and found themselves at odds in practice with local Jews for whom the custom was to remove their shoes before entering the synagogue. The Spanish Jews undertook to change their practice to remove their shoes but as in any congregation, there were those who objected to change. They cited the ruling of Maimonides who was quite familiar with Muslim practices and culture who had nevertheless ruled that it was permitted to wear shoes in the synagogue. The congregation submitted their dispute to Rashbash who was from Spain himself.
Rashbash responded that the practice was a matter of respect. When in the synagogue one is respecting God and a holy place but what constitutes respect varies depending on social norms. In Christian countries, it was the norm and not disrespectful to enter a church or to appear before the monarch wearing shoes. However, in Muslim countries, it was considered a sign of contempt to appear before a king wearing shoes so if it was disrespectful in those lands to appear in shoes before a living king, then it was also disrespectful to appear before God wearing shoes. In Christian countries, people would wear their shoes in their homes until going to bed but in Muslim countries people took care to remove their shoes before entering the house to avoid bringing in dirt. Therefore, in a Muslim country, one should not dirty the house of God by wearing shoes.
Rashbash concludes, "Therefore it is a good thing which they sought to do, to avoid being held in contempt by the nation that thought us contemptuous." In other words, he encouraged that community to decide that everyone should remove their shoes so they would not be held in contempt by the Muslim majority. (Resp. Rashbash, Leghorn 1742, par. 285). In short, certain religious practices depend on the cultural environment. (Eliezer Bashan, Bar Ilan University Parashat Hashavua Center January 5, 2002)
I suggest that here in America, we live in a multicultural, pluralistic society and this is not, contrary to assertions of some politicians, a per se Christian country. Indeed there are varying customs among families whether they wear shoes or not in their homes. There is thus cultural flexibility about whether it is appropriate to wear or to remove shoes in the synagogue.
Having addressed the question of whether or not to remove shoes, the question then is why this is commanded in the first place. There are some instances when the ground was considered holy because of God’s presence. Midrash Shemot Rabba tells us that it is forbidden to wear shoes in a place where the Shechinah dwells such as the Temple Mount. However, there can be another way to view this as Rabbi Rob Eisen does:
Based on the teaching of the Hafetz Hayim (Israel Meir Ha-Kohen, 1838–1933), Rabbi Eisen suggests that “when God calls out to Moses, He is teaching him that it is not the ground itself that is holy, but, rather, Moses’ presence that makes it so. The ground is holy because Moses is standing there, because he paused to acknowledge the presence of the burning bush. Our parasha teaches us that, whether sitting or standing, whatever our present place might be, that place—every place! --has the potential to become holy. What makes any particular place holy is determined by our presence: the way we are living our lives, whether or not we pause to acknowledge the way God appears to us in our day, whether we recognize the burning bushes that can be ignited by our response to God’s presence in our lives. Moses is told: 'The place on which you stand is holy ground,' and we are reminded that in every place and in every moment, we have the potential of drawing closer to God, and drawing God closer to us. It all depends on what we see when we consider where we are in our lives, and where we yet can go.”
My favorite explanation I found of the reason for removing shoes and why we should consider doing so today comes from Rabbi Shraga Pollack of Hungary. In his 1929 work Tishbi, he suggested:
“When a person wears shoes, he can walk without exercising care as to where he walks. With his feet protected by sturdy shoes, a person can step wherever he wants. However, when a person walks barefoot, he cannot step everywhere. He cannot walk freely and must look carefully in front of his feet before every step to protect his feet from injury.”
Rabbi David Silverberg of Yeshivat Har Etzion explaining this passage explains that the image of great caution in choosing where to walk describes the essence of kedusha – of holiness. Rabbi Silverberg writes, “A life of holiness means a life of careful discretion, of restraint, of thinking very carefully before reaching decisions and performing actions. A person who lives a sacred life is not free to 'walk' wherever he wishes; he must carefully assess every situation and accordingly decide upon the best course of action. This is manifest very clearly in the Beit Ha-mikdash [the Temple], where the many restrictions and specific guidelines necessitated a particularly high level of vigilance on the part of the officiating kohanim. The Talmud comments on many occasions, "Kohanim zerizin heim" – the kohanim were – by necessity – very meticulous and careful in their work in the Mikdash, due to the rigorous demands of the Temple service. This aura of vigilance characterizes a life of kedusha, which means exercising care before every step one takes. Outside the Mikdash, of course, one is permitted the wear shoes. The Torah certainly does not impose the standards that apply in the Temple to daily life outside the sacred precincts of the Beit Ha-mikdash. Nevertheless, we, too, are bidden, "Kedoshim tihyu," [you shall be holy] - to apply the general concepts of kedusha, which are manifest in extreme fashion in the Temple, to our day-to-day life. We, like the kohanim, must carefully watch our steps, and remember that not every mode of conduct is appropriate for the lives of kedusha that we are to live.” (Rabbi David Silverberg, Surf a Little Torah, Parashat Shemot, Yeshivat Har Etzion)
Perhaps if all us, whether lay leaders, members of congregations or rabbis adopted the practice of taking our shoes off at the door, and going about inside the synagogue with bare feet, we would be constantly reminded of this truth. Perhaps without physical shoes that let us walk wherever and on whatever whatever we want, perhaps we would also lose those mental and spiritual shoes that enable us to walk on and over whomever we wish, and we would exercise greater care in what we do, what we say and how we do it and say it.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
The 8th Night of Chanukah Song
Five years ago, on the 8th night of Chanukah, I decided it would be fun to light not one but four menorahs with the full complement of candles because it would be a beautiful display. What happened inspired me at the time to write this itty bitty Chanukah ditty.
Oh 8th Night of Chanukah
(based on a true story)
Oh Chanukah, oh Chanukah come light 4 menorahs.
Let’s have a party, we’ll all dance some horas.
Light up lots of candles, on the eighth night.
Recall ancient miracles with the blazing light.
Candles are smoking.
I’m choking.
I may have gone too far.
The light’s quite a specter
There goes the smoke detector
On the eighth night of Chanukah.
The light’s quite a specter
There goes the smoke detector
On the eighth night of Chanukah.
--
Have a happy and safe 8th night of Chanukah everyone!
Monday, November 8, 2010
Daven daily? Can't remember if Tachanun said? This song can help.
Jews who pray daily are familiar with the collection of prayers of supplication known as Tachanun. The trickiest part about Tachanun is that there are all sorts of occasions when it is not said and it can be really confusing. This little (ok not so little) song I wrote about 6 years ago will help. Beware, however, that it probably takes longer to sing the song than to actually Tachanun.
Lyrics by Stephen M. Asbel
If we’re happy and we know it, skip Tachanun.
If we’re happy and we know it skip Tachanun.
If we’re saying Hallel soon
Because it’s a new moon
Then we’re happy and we know it, skip Tachanun.
If we’re happy and we know it, skip Tachanun.
On Pesach and Sukkot
And of course on Shavuot
We’re happy and we know it, skip Tachanun.
If we’re happy and we know it, skip Tachanun.
If we’re happy and we know it skip Tachanun.
Chanukah’s days are eight.
And we’re feeling really great.
So we’re happy and we know it, skip Tachanun.
If we’re happy and we know it, skip Tachanun.
If we’re happy and we know it skip Tachanun.
Tu B’Shevat’s for tree-grown treats
On Tu B’Av lovers meet.
So we’re happy and we know it, skip Tachanun.
If we’re happy and we know it skip Tachanun.
On Purim** we read Megillah
That’s our big gedillah
‘Cause we’re happy and we know it, skip Tachanun.
If new parents are there, skip Tachanun.
If new parents are there, skip Tachanun.
If there’s a Simchat Bat or Bris.
Just give the sweet baby a kiss.
If new parents are there, skip Tachanun.
On wedding days we all skip Tachanun.
On wedding days we all skip Tachanun.
If someone’s to be wed,
Then Tachanun’s not said.
We all love weddings so skip Tachanun.
If the new couple’s there skip Tachanun.
If the new couple’s there skip Tachanun.
If it’s time for Sheva Brachos.
We’re all getting so much nachas.
If the new couple’s there skip Tachanun.
At a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, skip Tachanun.
At a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, skip Tachanun.
At the celebration of the bacher.
Remind your alter kocker.
That today we will skip Tachanun.
If it’s Nisan and we know it, skip Tachanun.
If it’s Nisan and we know it, skip Tachanun.
We’re so happy that it’s spring
We would much rather sing.
If it’s Nissan and we know it, skip Tachanun.
Two more days that skip Tachanun.
On Lag B’Omer when we’re glad
On Tisha B’Av when we’re sad.
Two more days that we skip Tachanun.
If we’re sad and we know it, skip Tachanun.
If we’re sad and we know it, skip Tachanun.
Skip in a house of mourning,
This is your final warning.
‘Cause we’re sad and we know it, skip Tachanun.
When the New Year comes we must skip Tachanun.
Rosh Hashanah and day before
Tachanun we must ignore.
When the New Year comes we must skip Tachanun.
What other times do we skip Tachanun?
What other times do we skip Tachanun?
From 9 Tishrei till Cheshvan
The first eight days of Sivan.
Oy! More days that we skip Tachanun.***
Are there new days for us to skip Tachanun?
Are there new days for us to skip Tachanun?
Yom Yerushalayim, Yom Haatzma’ut
Y’mei HaShoah and Hazikaron to boot
Yet more days for us to skip Tachanun.
If it’s a civil holiday, skip Tachanun.
If it’s civil holiday, skip Tachanun.
Like July 4th or Thanksgiving
‘Cause in America we’re living
If it’s a civil holiday, skip Tachanun.
Is there any other day to skip Tachanun?
Some skip on Pesach Sheni.
But the number is not many.
So that’s another day to skip Tachanun.
If it’s Shabbat and we know it, skip Tachanun.
Shabbat’s the day that’s best.
So Tachanun gets a rest.
If it’s Shabbat and we know it, skip Tachanun.
*Author’s note: This song is intended as a study aid and as entertainment and should not be relied solely upon as a definitive authority on when to skip Tachanun. Please consult your rabbi on all halachic questions.
**Another author’s note: In leap years, we also skip Tachanun on Purim Katan which corresponds to when in Adar I Purim would fall if it was not a leap year. We also skip Tachanun on Shushan Purim and Shushan Purim Katan.
***Still another author’s note: Some have the custom of skipping Tachanun on the 7th of Adar because it is the yahrtzeit of Moshe. Some communities have the custom of skipping Tachanun on the yahrtzeits of their great rabbis. Yet other communities have a custom of skipping Tachanun on the occasion of a civic community celebration of a sports team from that city or region winning a championship.
© 2004 Stephen M. Asbel
Monday, October 11, 2010
Tips from a Former Synagogue President on HIHO Seating
A major reason this blog went on hiatus for awhile was my service for almost 3 years as President of my synagogue. While I am no longer President, I still get to participate in the United Synagogue President's list serve as long as I am the immediate past president. Recently, a sitting president in another city posed a question about practices of who gets to sit in the sanctuary during the High Holidays (hereafter, HIHOs) and who sits in the added seats in the opened up extra room in the back. Many congregations use seating in the sanctuary up front as a perk for fundraising, for new members or big donors. Others have open seating. There are a variety of practices and I offered my two cents. Apparently some folks found my response not only informative but somewhat entertaining so here it is for anyone else who may benefit.
One of my frustrations with the HIHO season is that many people seem to be more concerned with the location for parking their butts than with the content of what is in their hearts or what is coming out of their mouths.
Due to long-term decline of membership we now have everyone sitting in the sanctuary. When we used to open the walls and have additional seating, we used to charge extra for sitting in the sanctuary. We ran into a situation where many people would not pay to sit in the sanctuary because they did not want to pay or because they believed on principle that one should not pay for a particular seat. In any case, we had lots of seats filled up in the back and half the sanctuary empty. It was absurd because we were paying to rent chairs when we had built in seats in which no one was sitting.
The Rabbi would become upset at having so many people so far away and even after being invited to move up, people would not move which would make the Rabbi more upset. This is one of the reasons that I pushed to abolish extra fees for sitting in the sanctuary and to make the seating open. We now have it such that all sanctuary seats are open except those who in the past paid for rights for HIHO seats for life as long as they were members - those are reserved. By the way, in the first year that we did this, if I recall correctly, HIHO appeal revenue actually went up by more than the amount that we stopped collecting for "seat licensing."
For those congregations that would like to try continue to get revenue from leasing particular seats but avoid upsetting the rabbi that the sanctuary is half empty, I recommend that there be no extra charge for sitting in the sanctuary but that there be an extra charge for the privilege of sitting in the back.
If you would really like to simplify the whole seating system, try following the seating arrangements that existed in the Temples in Jerusalem. The Talmud records that in the Temple Court, there was only one chair. That chair was reserved for the king while everyone else was standing (except when they were bowing and prostrating). To transfer this arrangement into the modern setting, HIHO services would be held in a room with just one chair and that would be reserved for the congregation President.
One of my frustrations with the HIHO season is that many people seem to be more concerned with the location for parking their butts than with the content of what is in their hearts or what is coming out of their mouths.
Due to long-term decline of membership we now have everyone sitting in the sanctuary. When we used to open the walls and have additional seating, we used to charge extra for sitting in the sanctuary. We ran into a situation where many people would not pay to sit in the sanctuary because they did not want to pay or because they believed on principle that one should not pay for a particular seat. In any case, we had lots of seats filled up in the back and half the sanctuary empty. It was absurd because we were paying to rent chairs when we had built in seats in which no one was sitting.
The Rabbi would become upset at having so many people so far away and even after being invited to move up, people would not move which would make the Rabbi more upset. This is one of the reasons that I pushed to abolish extra fees for sitting in the sanctuary and to make the seating open. We now have it such that all sanctuary seats are open except those who in the past paid for rights for HIHO seats for life as long as they were members - those are reserved. By the way, in the first year that we did this, if I recall correctly, HIHO appeal revenue actually went up by more than the amount that we stopped collecting for "seat licensing."
For those congregations that would like to try continue to get revenue from leasing particular seats but avoid upsetting the rabbi that the sanctuary is half empty, I recommend that there be no extra charge for sitting in the sanctuary but that there be an extra charge for the privilege of sitting in the back.
If you would really like to simplify the whole seating system, try following the seating arrangements that existed in the Temples in Jerusalem. The Talmud records that in the Temple Court, there was only one chair. That chair was reserved for the king while everyone else was standing (except when they were bowing and prostrating). To transfer this arrangement into the modern setting, HIHO services would be held in a room with just one chair and that would be reserved for the congregation President.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Is settlement freeze meant to force Jews in Judea/Samaria to accept Arab-Palestinian state?
In the tense back-and-forth between Israel, the US and the Palestinian authority over extending the recently expired settlement freeze, there is a subtle and unspoken pressure being applied to the Jewish residents of Judea and Samaria (commonly referred to as settlers). The widespread expectation is that if an agreement is reached for creation of a Palestinian State in the West Bank that there will be adjustments to the 1949 armistice line (Green Line) so that the major settlement blocs in which the bulk of the Jews in Judea and Samaria reside will formally become part of Israel.
The settlement freeze essentially holds these larger communities hostage and sets up a wedge between these communities and the smaller communities outside of those blocs and could divide their supporters throughout Israel. With a freeze or pressure for it, these larger communities are barred from new construction that is required to accommodate new residents and natural population growth even though pretty much everyone expects these towns will be part of Israel in any end scenario. Once a border between Israel and a future Arab-Palestinian state is negotiated, the freeze could be lifted on those communities which will be part of Israel and they can resume construction for more residents. Meanwhile, those Jewish-populated communities that are outside Israel's border would be on the bloc to be evacuated and destroyed (since it is the longstanding Arab-Palestinian position that their future state will be Jew-free).
So the residents in communities such as Maaleh Adumim, Gush Etzion, Givat Zeev, perhaps Ariel and others face a dilemma. Do they stand with their compatriots in more outlying communities and continue to oppose creation of an Arab-Palestinian state in the heart of the historic land of Israel that would pose a threat to the heart of Israel's population centers, and thus face continued strangulation of their communities' ability to grow? Or, do they acquiesce to the demands for creating an Arab-Palestinian state and end the limbo in which their communities are placed while essentially throwing residents of more outlying communities "under the bus" and accept the dangers that an Arab-Palestinian state that will likely be taken over by Hamas will pose?
The stakes and implications in this dilemma are large and its a potentially strong but quiet lever that the United States may be wielding to force Israel to accept the American policy of establishing an Arab-Palestinian state. Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu's right-leaning coalition is composed of parties that draw much support from the settlers and their allies throughout Israel. The settler population is not uniform in its religious and ideological outlook but if they are split apart by the wedge of the settlement freeze, Israel's right-leaning nationalist camp would be divided and resistance to creation of an Arab-Palestinian state and its attendant dangers could be greatly weakened. Or, at least that may be the calculation of those who demand a freeze while negotiations take place.
The settlement freeze essentially holds these larger communities hostage and sets up a wedge between these communities and the smaller communities outside of those blocs and could divide their supporters throughout Israel. With a freeze or pressure for it, these larger communities are barred from new construction that is required to accommodate new residents and natural population growth even though pretty much everyone expects these towns will be part of Israel in any end scenario. Once a border between Israel and a future Arab-Palestinian state is negotiated, the freeze could be lifted on those communities which will be part of Israel and they can resume construction for more residents. Meanwhile, those Jewish-populated communities that are outside Israel's border would be on the bloc to be evacuated and destroyed (since it is the longstanding Arab-Palestinian position that their future state will be Jew-free).
So the residents in communities such as Maaleh Adumim, Gush Etzion, Givat Zeev, perhaps Ariel and others face a dilemma. Do they stand with their compatriots in more outlying communities and continue to oppose creation of an Arab-Palestinian state in the heart of the historic land of Israel that would pose a threat to the heart of Israel's population centers, and thus face continued strangulation of their communities' ability to grow? Or, do they acquiesce to the demands for creating an Arab-Palestinian state and end the limbo in which their communities are placed while essentially throwing residents of more outlying communities "under the bus" and accept the dangers that an Arab-Palestinian state that will likely be taken over by Hamas will pose?
The stakes and implications in this dilemma are large and its a potentially strong but quiet lever that the United States may be wielding to force Israel to accept the American policy of establishing an Arab-Palestinian state. Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu's right-leaning coalition is composed of parties that draw much support from the settlers and their allies throughout Israel. The settler population is not uniform in its religious and ideological outlook but if they are split apart by the wedge of the settlement freeze, Israel's right-leaning nationalist camp would be divided and resistance to creation of an Arab-Palestinian state and its attendant dangers could be greatly weakened. Or, at least that may be the calculation of those who demand a freeze while negotiations take place.
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