by Ner Tamid | Sep 22, 2024 | Sermons
Before every Bar and Bat Mitzvah I meet with the family to discuss their big day. At the end of our conversation, I often turn to the boy or girl and ask them if they have any questions for me. They usually meekly shake their head no and say a silent prayer that the meeting should quickly come to an end. But Simcha Schwartz surprised me and said, “Yes, I do.” And he went on to ask me an amazing question from this week’s Parsha:
We read something called the Tochacha today – it is a long list of curses that will befall the Jewish People if they do not obey the Torah. And Simcha, who studied his Torah portion, said, “That’s not fair! Our great-great-great-great-great-grandparents accepted the Torah at Sinai. They are responsible to keep it. But what does that have to do with me? I never accepted the Torah? How can I compelled to keep something that I never agreed to? Why would I get punished for breaking an agreement that I never made?”
It’s a good question, no? Why are we obligated to keep the Torah? Because my great-grandparents did? Because a mohel gave me a bris when I was 8 days-old and had no say in the matter?
Simcha, I want to share with you an answer, which at first may seem like a stretch, but bear with me until I am done. Deal?
Rav Yaakov Weinberg of blessed memory, one of the Roshei Yeshiva of Ner Yisroel asked this same question – you are in good company. And he shared the following answer:
You have been Simcha Schwartz since you were born. Was there ever any point when you were someone else? No, of course not. You started off as baby Simcha, and then you grew and grew. And now you’re 13-year-old Simcha.
But that’s not entirely accurate. The molecules, the particles of your skin and bone, almost none of them are the same ones you were born with. Those molecules are dying off and regenerating every moment. The heart that you were born with is not really the same heart. And the brain and the blood from your brain is not the same either. And yet, you still consider yourself the same person. When you look at a baby picture, you say, “Look, that’s me!”
The same is true for the Jewish People. Were we at Sinai? Did we accept the Torah? Yes, we did. The Jewish People did. And although the particular molecules that stood there are no longer, we are a continuation of them, we are the same, we are one. I am bound by my ancestor’s agreement the same way I am bound by decisions I made twenty years ago even though the physical matter of Sruli Motzen from twenty years ago is no longer.
Now you may be thinking to yourself, I don’t want to be part of this mega-Jewish Person thing. I want to be on my own; I want to be my own person. Well first of all, too bad. Molecules do not get a say in the matter and neither do you. But before you jump to any conclusions, I’d like to point out that this ‘being part of a Jewish nation’ goes in two directions. We are connected vertically to the very first Jews who committed to this incredible enterprise called Judaism, but we are also connected horizontally, to every Jew across the world, who will give the shirt off their back to help you.
Let me share with you two stories that will help you understand how significant this is:
If you travel through Tel Aviv right now, you will see signs from the municipality of Sderot. One of the most amazing stories that is not being told is what is happening with the significant amount of displaced people in Israel. The northern cities are empty and many in the south are still unable to return home. Where are these displaced people? They have been welcomed with open arms by their fellow Jews. For almost a year! So much so that the government of Sderot felt the need to take out huge billboards thanking the people of Tel Aviv for welcoming them with open arms.
This could only happen on such a large scale because the Jewish People see themselves as one, as a family, as one unit. Ingrained in every Jew is the notion that we are connected; acheinu kol beis Yisroel. And you, Simcha, have received this education from your parents. Your father’s career is focused on feeding Jews; what greater form of togetherness than that! And your mother has been an exemplary volunteer at our shul since the day she joined. Your family Is not living life in a vacuum; they see themselves as part of a community.
Story # 2- On Thursday, I had the honor of spending some time with Motty and Shiri Twito. Their son, Eyal, who spent some time volunteering at Ohr Chadash Academy in 2019, was tragically killed in January when he and some fellow soldiers were hit by an RPG. Motty and Shiri were in town to help fundraise for an organization that helped them with their grief. They described to me how they refused to speak to anyone after the death of their beloved son. They could not bring themselves to experiencing any joy, it was an exceptionally dark time. But then this organization, with their Shabbatons full of inspiration and meeting others in a similar situation, really changed everything.
Beautiful, right?
It gets better. Motty and Shiri are Daati-leumi, religious Zionists. The man who runs the organization they were here to promote is a Chassid. Together, they looked like an odd couple; two strapping, tanned, Jews – tiny kippah on Motti’s head, a little scarf covering a small part of Shiri’s hair. They’re sitting with a Chossid with his long coat and scraggly beard, who is looking out for them, providing them with relief and support.
And it gets even better. You know who got this Chossid started? You know who paid for the very first Shabbaton that he hosted for bereaved families after October 7th? A Satmar Chossid. Satmar is an anti-Zionist group. They object to the existence of a State of Israel. But there’s a Jew in pain – yes, this Jew’s daughter was dancing at a rave festival on Simchas Torah, yes, this Jew’s husband fought for the IDF, yes, this Jew’s father lived on a Kibbutz that was avowedly atheistic, none of that matters. They are Jews and we are connected.
***
Who here wants a good and favorable judgment this High Holiday season? We all do. So let’s take this idea one important step forward. I want to share with you something personal, but I think it is important to share in this context:
When I was in tenth grade, I decided to not speak on Yom Kippur. There is a tradition of not only abstaining from food on Yom Kippur but also abstaining from talking. It is called a Taanis Dibbur – a speech fast. It’s an incredible experience; it feels like a cleansing. We say so many silly words every day; inane conversations, filling the silence, sometimes we gossip or worse. And for 24 hours the only thing that came out of my mouth was prayer.
Then about 15 years ago, I started working for a group that did outreach – meaning, we taught classes and ran services for unaffiliated Jews. Part of my job was to attend Yom Kippur services with this group. There was no way I could maintain this Taanis Dibbur. I had to do Hataras Nedarim, which I did; I annulled the implicit vow to not speak on Yom Kippur. But I was quite disappointed. I really got a lot out of those 25 hours of silence.
I was speaking to a rabbi I was close with, and I shared this with him. I probably thought he’d be like, “Wow, I cannot believe you used to not speak for 25 hours…” But that’s not what he said. You know what he said?
“FOOL! You are a fool!”
“Not speaking for 25 hours is very nice. But when you stand before G-d on Yom Kippur as an individual who does not speak with others, you are standing as an individual who does not speak with others. G-d will judge you alone and that’s a pretty scary thought for G-d to assess your worth in a vacuum.
But this year, you are going to be connecting to your fellow Jew. You might end up talking about sports or politics, but you are connecting to a fellow Jew. And you will stand before G-d in a group of people. He will see you as part of a whole. When He sees you in a group, He judges the group together. And when you dedicate yourself to that group, G-d sees how valuable you are to His children, and that generates a radically different and far more compassionate judgment. You are lucky to be going into the High Holidays with a group of people that you will support and you will connect to.”
The best way to get a favorable judgment this year is to not go inward but to go outward. If you are hosting meals this Yom Tov season, there are so many people who would appreciate an invitation. More effective than the most heartfelt prayers is G-d seeing us share our blessings with others. 3-day-Yom Tov is a scary thing, especially for people living on their own. If you are not hosting meals, pray for others. If you are able to, give more tzedakah to help the many people in our community who are in need. Share their burden. Show G-d that you are part of the whole, that you are not an individual, you are part of the Jewish People. There is no such thing as a lone Jew; the quicker we embrace that, the more we live that, the better off we will be.
Yes, we are held accountable by the commitments of the Jews who came before us. But we are also held tight but the Jews who live around us. The sooner we embrace the reality that we are all connected, the better off we will all be.
by Ner Tamid | Aug 11, 2024 | Sermons
Like many of you, I got a call on Thursday from Baltimore City, begging me to stay indoors due to Tropical Storm Debby. My children’s outdoor camp activities were cancelled due to the possibility of dangerous winds and fallen trees. There was a run on toilet paper at the local supermarket. And a whole bunch of you forgot to turn your notifications off, so we would all get to hear that high-pitched screeching sound letting us know that there was a Tornado watch.
I’m actually kind of happy we had this experience. It gave us a tiny, microscopic, window into what our brothers and sisters in Israel have experienced this past week as they wait to see how Iran and their proxies will act.
But ‘tiny’ and ‘microscopic’ does not do justice to the shared experience. In Israel, they are not worried about a tree falling and taking out the power; they are worried about hundreds of missiles falling from the sky causing devastation.
They are not worried about the thunder that might wake the children who will then come and snuggle in their parents’ warm bed; they are worried about the air raid sirens and how quickly they can get their children to the safe room.
They are not worried about winds; they are worried about all-out war.
And whereas you and I could track Debby as she makes her way up the coast, all of Israel is waiting with bated breath for what Hezbollah and Iran will do without any warning at all.
That was uncomfortable, wasn’t it? That was only five seconds.
There is nothing more unsettling than waiting for the unknown.
To me, one of the most disturbing elements of the past ten months has been the disconnect between us in America and our brothers and sisters in Israel. They are sending their boys off to the front line and we’re sending our boys off to sleepaway camp. They are reliving the destruction of the Temple and the fall of Jerusalem, and we’re watching cute and inspiring videos about their heroes while we go about our day. They are counting bodies, and we’re counting homeruns.
And yes, I know we care, but the gap – the gap between us and them is vast. It’s like we’re two nations, with two entirely different realities.
I’d like to share with you a biographical sketch of a man who lived during a time when we were also two nations experiencing radically different realities; as always, we have a lot to learn from our past.
About 2500 years ago, there lived a man by the name Yeshaya, Isaiah. Yeshaya was born to the aristocracy, a close relative of the king. He was powerful, intelligent, and a brilliant orator – and he was a prophet. He began his prophetic career during one of the high points of the Judean monarchy. At that time, the Jewish People were split into two kingdoms, North and South, Israel and Judah. King Achaz, the Judean King had a mighty army, they had expanded their border all the way down to Eilat. The Temple was flourishing, people were knowledgeable in Torah, all seemed good.
But Yeshaya was a prophet. A prophet’s greatest skillset is to see what no one else sees. Or perhaps more accurately, to see what everyone else is ignoring and to say what no one wants to hear. At this particular time, he did not even need a prophetic vision, he turned to his fellow Jews of the Southern Kingdom and asked them to just look over the border. “Do you not see how the Northern kingdom is falling apart? Do you not see how Assyria is getting stronger each day, and will someday very soon wipe out your brothers and sisters on the other side of the border?”
“Fine,” they said, “we’ll say some Tehillim.”
“And look, Yeshaya, we get it. Bad things may happen, but they’ll survive. We’ll survive. Hakol yihyeh b’seder. Ten chiyuch, hakol l’tovah.” “You think Israel is going to collapse? We’ve never been so powerful! Look at our army! Look at our intelligence!” and the people went on with their lives. Little did they know that there is no guarantee that Israel will not be overtaken by foreign entities. There was no guarantee then, nor is there a guarantee now. They would find out the hard way.
In the meantime, Yeshaya tried again. He pointed to the disparities in society between the haves and the have-nots. He reminded them of the many members of society who are being ignored and not taken care of. And I could just hear the people of Juda responding to him, “Yeshaya, Yeshaya, you’re getting political. You’re a prophet. Stay in your lane.”
He tried one more time – “You guys are doing so many Mitzvos, you’re learning so much Torah. It’s beautiful. But do you ever think about G-d? Do you think He just wants your mechanical actions?! He wants your heart! Do you think He wants offerings? Do you think He wants you to just mumble the words of your prayers?! He wants your emotions! He wants a genuine relationship with you!” But this too fell on deaf ears.
The Book of Isaiah is one of the most popular books in the Jewish canon. But at the time, Isaiah was one of the least popular people in Israel. No one likes to be made uncomfortable. He was blocked by some. Reported on by others. His posts got one or two likes, usually it was that angry face emoji. There was no shortage of eloquent people who were reassuring the Jews of Judea that all would be well. Who would you listen to? Mr. Doomsday or Mr. Inspiration?
Yehsaya did have a short stint of popularity. During one of the darkest times, after the Ten Tribes had been taken away, after Sancheriv the Assyrian general had besieged Jerusalem, Yeshaya returns to the scene. This time he shares a message of hope, reassuring them, letting them know that it may look bleak, but it will all be good. And he was right; Sancheriv ran off and Jerusalem was saved. He shared during those dark days famous visions of lions and lambs, and broken swords.
You see, prophets were contrarians. Their job was to remind us to always feel a little bit uncomfortable. To never feel like we’ve made to the top of the mountain of success. To second-guess our most precious and dear beliefs. When they were too comfortable, he made them uncomfortable, and when they were scared, he reassured them.
I wonder what Yeshaya would tell us today.
I imagine he would turn to the mothers in Israel, preparing their “go-bags” and training their children to run to the maamad, and he would tell them “Don’t worry. V’ashiva shoftayich k’varishona, I will bring justice back to this holy city.” He would tell the sleepless spouses that their husbands will come home; that war will one day be a thing of the past. He would walk through the army barracks giving hugs to the teenagers who are trying to hold it together and remind them how beloved they are to Hashem. The people of Israel need chizuk, they need strength, and that’s what the prophet would give them.
But then he would turn to us, as we plan our summers ahead, as we flip through inspirational video after inspirational video, and he would thunder: “Do you really think you’re doing enough?! How can you sleep when your cousins are in Gaza? How can you eat comfortably when their mothers and fathers haven’t eaten in ten months?”
“I hear you talking about how scared you are in this country, but then you treat American politicians like heroes, and then you go and build houses that scream ‘I am not going anywhere’? Are you really in exile or is this your home?!”
“And yes, your mitzvah observance and Torah learning has never been greater. But G-d does not want actions. Rachman liba ba’i. Hashem wants you. To show up honestly, authentically. No games. No gimmicks. An open and honest and growth-filled relationship.”
“You may not be able to help the fallen and broken in Israel, but is there a shortage of fallen and broken around you? Open your eyes!”
We don’t have prophets nowadays. But we do. Not only because the words we read this morning from Yeshaya so clearly reverberate in our times. But even more deeply, the Talmud says that prophecy lives on through children. Inside each and every one of us there is a child, a voice of idealism, of unbridled self-criticism, and of unself-conscious yearnings. We’ve all heard that voice before. Sometimes we listen to it. More often, like they did to the prophets of old, we ignore it.
This Shabbos is the only Shabbos dedicated to words of prophecy – Shabbos Chazon, the week we listen to Yeshaya of old, but also to the internal Yeshaya, the child inside. After three weeks of mourning, after three weeks of reminding ourselves that things are not where they need to be, the hope is that we are little less guarded, a little more vulnerable, a little more open to hear that inner prophetic voice. And for each us, that voice is saying something else. Each of us are comfortable in our own way. And each of us need to listen to that voice to figure out what we really need to do. Can you hear it? What’s that voice saying? To you.
***
For a while it seemed like the tide had turned, the people embraced Yeshaya and his messages. His daughter married the king of Israel, Chizkiyahu, and Yeshaya was now an official member of the royal family.
But it could not be maintained. Chizkiyahu died. His son Menashe took over. And Yeshaya’s criticisms started grating on too many people and getting in their way of their lives. Our sages teach us that after attempting to sideline Yeshaya was unsuccessful, he was executed by Menashe, his very own grandson.
As I said, those times are not so different than now. Do we listen to the words of the inner prophet and allow him to guide us to personal and collective redemption, or do we kill him with apathy and comfort?
by Ner Tamid | Aug 5, 2024 | Sermons
I sat down this morning and tried to write a eulogy for our teacher, our mentor, our rabbi, and our friend, Rabbi Chaim Landau. While I struggled to find the words to properly encapsulate the impact this one man had on so many, I realized where I was – the chair I was sitting in, the desk I was working on, the walls I was surrounded by – Rabbi Landau’s old office, and I noticed it was filled with ghosts.
I saw the hundreds, maybe thousands, of Bar and Bat Mitzvah boys and girls nervously shifting in their seats as Rabbi Landau spoke to them about their big day ahead. I saw the countless beaming couples discussing the details of their upcoming wedding. I also saw those same couples as they came back to that office time and time again for advice and guidance as they navigated their married life. I saw the maybe hundreds of people who yearned to join the Jewish faith, who Rabbi Landau guided with kindness and compassion. I saw the countless people who sat in those chairs as they poured their heart out to Rabbi Landau, as they went through losses and setbacks. And I watched Rabbi Landau comfort, lift up, and guide all those people.
I left my office and walked the halls of our school wing, and I saw the ghosts of Yeshivat Rambam and Shlongers Yeshiva, two very different institutions, and yet, both welcomed with open arms by the rabbi of Greenspring Valley Synagogue. Hundreds of students connecting to their heritage thanks to the endorsement and encouragement of Rabbi Landau.
I saw the ghosts of the young children, students of the Montessori school that started as one classroom and grew and grew – a brainchild of Rabbi Landau and part of his brilliant vision. I saw Rabbi Landau stopping to say hello to each child of 3,4, or 5 years old. I saw him playing his keyboard in the classrooms and singing as the boys and girls smiled and clapped along.
I went upstairs to the social hall where I saw the ghosts of the people attending the creative gatherings Rabbi Landau would put together, the Omer Lecture Series, Yom Yerushalayim celebrations, and more. I watched as an exceptionally diverse group of community members learned and grew from these unique events.
And then I went to the sanctuary. I heard Rabbi Landau’s loud, booming, British accent bounce off the walls. And I saw the ghosts of thousands of congregants sitting spellbound listening to his passionate and humorous sermons. I watched the strings of their heart stir, the gears in their head turn, as they made resolutions – to be better spouses, better parents, to be better Jews, to be stauncher Zionists, to be good and decent people.
And it occurs to me as I look around this very full room, I was not looking at ghosts.
Those couples who came to Rabbi Landau for counseling, they went back home, they put his advice to practice, their children watched their parents, and now have beautiful families of their own.
The teensy Bar and Bat Mitzvah students felt heard by a man with a beard, a rabbi! And felt a connection to Judaism they were inspired to explore.
The hundreds of men and women who became members of our faith and now have children and grandchildren who are Jewish too.
The schools that started here had and have thousands of students who went on to live lives infused with Torah and Zionism.
The impact Rabbi Chaim Landau made is not the past; it is the present and the future. It is sitting in these pews, and it is all over the world. It is the immeasurable impact that is coursing through the minds, hearts, and souls, of the tens of thousands of people Rabbi Landau touched in his life.
The impact I must add goes far beyond those who walked through these walls. It is an impact still felt in Charleston, West Virginia, where he started his rabbinate, with a creative bang and flourish. It is an impact still felt by the many students he taught in so many of the local schools. It is an impact felt in the dining rooms of the homes he visited. It is an impact still felt by the patients and staff of the University of Maryland Medical Center where his beautiful piano playing filled the entire hospital giving hope and life to those inside.
There are no ghosts. While Moreinu HaRav Chaim’s soul may have returned to his Creator, he left so much chaim, so much life down here on earth. Chaim shel bracha; A life well-lived, a life that has impacted the trajectory of tens of thousands, a life that is still reverberating ever so loudly in this room, in this hallway, and all over the world.
So how did it happen? How did a Brit, a man born in a small seaside village of England, a country known for its cold weather and cold demeanor become such a lover, a hugger – not just a hugger, but a bear-hugger? A man who never seemed to not smile? A man who seemed to always have a skip in his walk, as if he was listening to the classical music he loved? Who was always doing “lovely!” How did it happen?
I learned yesterday that coffee may have had something to do with it.
But there is more.
Our Sages instruct us to become students of Aaron the High Priest. Hevei mitalmidav shel Aharon. Not a student of Moshe, not a student of Rabbi Akiva. There is only one Jewish figure whom we are asked to emulate, and that is Aharon. In what way? Ehov et habriyot, love people. That was not only the leadership quality, it was the life quality that Rabbi Landau exemplified, it was the key to his success.
It was his love for people that caused him to fall in love with the rabbinate as he watched his father spend his days caring for all who needed him, including inmates at the local prisons.
It was his love for people that allowed him to say “Great game! Better luck next time!” after destroying his opponents in racquetball.
It was his love for people that endeared him to complete strangers, fellow dogwalkers on the street, custodians of the hospitals he would visit. He would greet everyone with the cheeriest hello and smile.
As I read through the outpouring of comments on social media about Rabbi Landau, the words, “mentchlich, smile, kindness, non-judgmental” appeared over and over again. In the words of our Sages, Rabbi Landau was a true student of Aharon HaKohein.
I must mention that this love was not a love of softness; it was a love that was mixed with particular strength. Rabbi Landau had the courage to take a stand on matters that were not always popular in a community in which he would often be in the minority, but that did not stop him.
Rabbi Landau had the strength to take a stand on opinions in these walls that were not always so popular, but that did not stop him either.
Probably the last big decision that he encouraged and saw through at Ner Tamid was the removal of this microphone. It was far from popular, Rabbi Landau had to go head-to-head with some of the most powerful people in the shul, but he prevailed. I think it is fair to say that thanks to his courage, strength, and vision, the shul is where it is today.
If I may speak on behalf of the congregation. I would like to thank the Landau family, Sivan, Talia, Dov, Yaella, for sharing your father with us. Yes, there were some perks – his office was filled with candy your mother did not allow at home, some of you may have thought you owned this place. But I am told it’s not easy to have a father who is a rabbi… we thank you and are deeply indebted to you for sharing him.
Most specifically, I want to thank Rebbetzin Mindy Landau. Not only for sharing your husband with us, but for being such an incredible role model of being a dignified person and of standing by your husband through thick and thin. It has been humbling watching you. Rabbi Landau spent two years trying to persuade you to marry him. It was probably the best investment of time and best decision he could have made.
If I could speak personally. When I first joined the shul, I received a lot of questions that all concluded with the words, “like Rabbi Landau.” For example, “Why don’t you have trivia questions like Rabbi Landau? Why don’t you give out chocolate bars like Rabbi Landau? Why don’t you speak at this point of the services like Rabbi Landau?”
And I was scared, not only of the congregants, but of Rabbi Landau. In the rabbi world, it is an open secret that having a rabbi emeritus is a disaster waiting to happen. As the incoming rabbi, you have your own vision but you cannot undo anything that was done in the past for fear of insulting your predecessor. The previous rabbi understandably is constantly judging his successor and it often comes through.
But that is everyone else’s experience. My experience was exactly the opposite. Rabbi Landau encouraged me at every turn to do things my way. When I’d ask him what the shul’s minhag was, he would tell me to do whatever I think is best, repeatedly. He was gracious beyond description. It was almost as if he had no ego, no sense of personal pride. His selflessness was superhuman. He would never sit in the front; he would beg me to stop acknowledging him from the pulpit. He would thank me profusely if I ever asked him to speak – as if I was doing him a favor. Thank you, Rabbi Landau. I hope and pray that I can live up to your example.
It is customary to ask forgiveness from a parent at their funeral. Rabbi Landau was a father to us all. And so, on behalf of the congregation, I ask you forgiveness for not always appreciating what we had and for allowing your sweetness to lower our guard and not always treating you with the reverence you deserved.
I do not think it is coincidence that today is Rosh Chodesh Av, the yahrtzeit of Aharon Hakohein. The world has lost a true student of Aharon; a man bursting with genuine love for every human being. At Ner Tamid I know we will forever say, Hevei mitalmidav she HaRav Chaim Landau, Zecher Tzadik livracha. Be a student of Rabbi Landau! He dedicated his life to us and we in turn will dedicate our lives to him, perpetuating his legacy of love – for all people, for Torah, for Israel, a life of joy and of strong conviction. While G-d has taken back this precious neshama, there is still life, there is still Chaim living on in the hearts and souls of the hundreds and thousands of us that he touched. We are forever his students.
T’hei nishmaso tzrura bitzror hachaim. May his precious soul be bound up in the Eternal Bond of Life.
by Ner Tamid | Aug 4, 2024 | Halacha
The ‘9 Days’ begin Sunday evening, August 4th at sunset. During this time the following activities are forbidden: Home improvements, laundering, buying or wearing new clothes, eating meat, drinking wine, and bathing for pleasure. We will discuss the details of all these restrictions below.
Home Improvement and Gardening: It is forbidden to do any home improvements such as painting, building, adding extensions.
One may not hire a non-Jew to do this type of work either. If one hired a non-Jew before the Nine Days one should make every effort to have them not build during this time. If they are unsuccessful, one may allow them to continue.
One is allowed to build for a Mitzvah. Therefore construction on a shul may continue during this time.
If something is broken and needs to be fixed it may be done during this time.
Light housework, such as sweeping, mopping, vacuuming, and basic cleaning is permitted.
In terms of gardening, basic upkeep such as mowing the lawn, watering plants and flowers is permitted. Planting new seeds or flowers is not allowed.
Laundering: Included in the prohibition of laundering during the Nine Days is ironing, or sending any clothes to the dry cleaners (even if they will be ready after the Nine Days).
One may put a load in the laundry machine on the eve of the Nine Days even if it will only be ready after nightfall.
One may wash clothing for children aged six and under. There are some who permit washing clothing for children who under Bar and Bat Mitzvah. This second opinion can be relied upon until the week of Tisha B’av.
If one has no clean clothing for Shabbos one may wash clothing on Thursday and Friday so that they will have clean clothing for Shabbos.
Spot cleaning is permitted.
During the first days of mourning for a loved one, one may not wear freshly laundered clothing. The same holds true for the Nine Days when we all mourn the destruction of the Batei Mikdash. The definition of freshly laundered clothing is clothing that has not been worn since it has been laundered. This does not mean that one must wear dirty clothing. Rather, once clothing has been worn prior to the Nine Days it can be worn during the Nine Days. The prohibition of wearing freshly laundered clothing is limited to outer garments as opposed to undergarments and pajamas.
The amount of time it has to be worn is a matter of debate. Some say an hour, others say a half hour, and others say 15 minutes. Some even allow one to wear clothing that was worn even for a moment.
One may also place the clothing on the floor and step on it, or laundry basket with dirty clothing ensuring that it gets a little dirty and wrinkled in the process.
One is allowed to wear freshly-laundered clothing on Shabbos.
For all you clever people out there, this may seem to indicate a loophole of sorts. If one can wear new clothing on Shabbos then perhaps one need not wear clothing before the nine days in order to take away their freshness. Instead one can wear them for the first time on Shabbos and ‘break them in’ that way. The problem with this idea is that it violates another prohibition – one may not prepare on Shabbos for the week to come. Therefore one would not be able to ‘prepare’ clothing that they only want to wear during the week by wearing them on Shabbos. Instead,
If one runs out of clothing that was pre-worn before the Nine Days, one may cause the clothing to be considered not fresh by putting them on a floor that is dusty, removing the creases by stepping on the clothing, or by placing the clothing in a laundry basket with dirty laundry.
As opposed to the Three Weeks when buying clothing of significance is forbidden, during the Nine Days buying any article of clothing is prohibited. (As a practical tip – before going Nine Days without laundry, it’s worth double checking that you have enough clothing! Also, don’t forget to buy non-leather shoes before Tisha B’av.) If there is a major sale that will be over before the Nine Days have passed it is permitted to buy a new article of clothing.
It is forbidden to make any new clothing (sewing, weaving, knitting, etc.) but it is permitted to sew up a tear or a button etc.
It is forbidden to eat meat/poultry or drink wine through the Nine Days. There are two reasons why this is so – 1) meat and wine increase happiness 2) it serves as a reminder of the meat of the sacrifices and the wine libations that are no longer.
One may use meat utensils but may not eat food that was cooked with meat (like eating a potato from a meat chulent).
There are no restrictions on meat and wine on Shabbos.
One may eat meat for health reasons. Best to eat poultry if possible.
Included in the prohibition of drinking wine is drinking grape juice. However, any other alcoholic beverage is permitted. Wine that is used for cooking is allowed provided that there is no distinct taste of wine in the food.
Drinking wine/ grape juice on Shabbos is permitted. Havdallah poses a challenge as it is after Shabbos. For Havdallah, one should not use beer in place of wine. Rather, if there is a child between the ages of 6 and 9 available they should drink the wine/ grape juice. If not, the one who made Havdallah should drink it. Many prefer this second approach. As is the case every Saturday night, one should drink the majority of the cup.
One may attend a siyum and eat meat/ wine.
Bathing: If a person is accustomed to taking regular showers and would be very uncomfortable not doing so, there is what to rely upon to take a quick shower using water that is not very hot with soap and shampoo.
During the Nine Days, it is forbidden to swim, be it for pleasure or for exercise. If one must swim for medical reasons, please feel free to contact me to discuss further.
One should try not to be involved in a court case during the Nine Days if possible. Similarly, one should try not to schedule medical procedures during this time. This is specifically if one is able to postpone it with no physical or financial harm.
The custom is to push off saying Kiddush Levana until after Tisha B’Av because Kiddush Levana is supposed to be said in a state of joy.
The custom is not to cut nails the week of Tisha B’av.
There are different opinions about setting and washing a sheitel during the Nine Days. It is best to avoid.
Shaving legs and plucking/ waxing hair can be done until the week of Tisha B’av. If going to the Mikvah one can do so even on the week of Tisha B’av.
by Ner Tamid | Jul 28, 2024 | Sermons
I tend to keep my phone with me up until a minute before I run to shul on Friday night. When calls come in within an hour or two before Shabbos, they are almost always emergencies. I say ‘almost’ because once in a while I will get a call to see what time candle lighting is or if there is a kiddush in shul. Last Friday, I received a call about two hours before Shabbos that was not necessarily an emergency, but it was certainly an urgent matter.
The call was from a friend who received a fundraising call from Keren Olam HaTorah. Keren Olam HaTorah is a mega-fundraising campaign on a mission to ensure that the Charedi community in Israel, which is losing its government funding, will be able to survive without those funds. Their goal is 107 million dollars. They already have 84 million dollars worth of commitments from major donors, and they are now raising another 23 million dollars to close the gap, of which they already raised 12 million.
Someone had reached out to my friend, asking him for a substantial donation, and he was not sure what to do, and was asking me for my opinion. Should he donate to this campaign supporting the Charedi community to allow them to continue to study Torah without serving in the IDF, or not?
Let’s review a little history: Before the formation of the State of Israel, David Ben Gurion wanted the support of the Charedi community and so he struck a deal with the Chazon Ish allowing anyone in the Charedi community to receive an exemption from serving in the army so that they could study Torah uninterrupted. Presumably, Ben Gurion’s thinking at the time was that the Charedim would eventually disappear, there is no way such a “backward” group of people would live on in the modern State of Israel, and this would not be a long-term issue. A less cynical take was that people recognized, after the Holocaust, there was a need to rebuild Torah Jewry, and therefore there was little if any pushback.
Well, as we all know, things did not go as Ben Gurion planned. The Charedi population has exploded. They now make up 13% of the country. Their poverty rate is at about 41%. The community is propped up by charities but also by the government, which creates an incredible financial strain on the government. To make matters worse, due to the ongoing conflicts in the North and South, the Israeli government voted to extend the amount of time reservists need to serve while the Charedi community is not serving at all. Unsurprisingly, the Supreme Court recently voted to revoke the funding they have been providing for decades to Charedim who are in yeshiva, and to start drafting Charedim into the army. (There is broad consensus that there would be a carve-out, enabling many Charedim who are fully devoted to Torah learning continue to do so.)
And it seems to many like a no-brainer.
Of course, Charedim need to share the burden of defending Israel against her enemies!
Of course, we cannot rely on Torah study alone to protect us. We have never taken such an approach in all of our history; from Moshe through the Maccabees, while we place an absolute premium on Torah study and prayer, relying on a miracle is not our way!
The government should probably do a much better job negotiating with the Charedi community, they should probably slow down a little, be less threatening, provide genuine accommodations to Charedim joining the IDF, and they would probably be much more effective. But yes, it seems like a no-brainer that a good portion of the Charedi community should take part in some form of national service.
But that was not the question posed to me; the question was if this man should give a donation to enable the Charedi community to continue their way of life.
The answer, in my opinion, is not so simple.
First of all, I told him this is quite similar to any given meshulach who comes to your door. The individual who may be very bright and capable, never got a well-paying job because he did not serve in the IDF and did not have access to a whole host of jobs. Now, he has a family emergency, they are unsurprisingly broke, and they come to you for money. On the one hand, it’s ridiculous. Why didn’t you go to the army? Why didn’t you get a normal job? And at the same time, they were born into a system. They are standing before you, impoverished, with a starving family at home. They are, despite your many differences, your brother. When my brother makes a stupid decision, I am still in his corner. No matter what. So, I pull out my checkbook and give this person some money. And now, it is not one or two or ten meshulachim, but an entire society that was not ready for this change (even if they should have been). Are we going to let our brothers and sisters starve so that they’ll serve in the army? Heaven forbid.
But there is something else, something quite uncomfortable and complicated that we would be wise to acknowledge. The typical argument to Charedim is that they can still maintain their religious observance level in the army. The proof is the Religious Zionist community. The community of people that I imagine most of us identify with; kippah serugah, they go to Hesder Yeshivot where they learn for a few years and then serve for a few years, they embrace the secular world. Why can’t you Charedim be just like them?
A few years ago, a study was published by Chotam. Chotam is a religious Zionist thinktank. The study concluded that only 46% of Religious Zionists young adults are fully observant. More than half of their youth are not maintaining the values they were taught. If Religious Zionism were a company, they would be forced to shut down. Those are not normal numbers. That is an abject failure. By contrast, the study concluded that despite some high-profile Charedim leaving the fold, the Charedi attrition rate is negligible.
To put it differently, the Charedi world, for all the complaints that we may have about army service, is doing something right. They are doing something that is needed for the future of the Jewish People. They are keeping Jews practicing Judaism.
In 1975, Rabbi Dr. Norman Lamm, probably the most outspoken advocate of Modern Orthodoxy gave a speech about zealotry. Though we are a religion of peace and pleasantness, Pinchas, the protagonist of our parsha is celebrated for his zealotry. “Unquestionably,” writes Rabbi Lamm, “zealotry is a valuable sentiment. Without [it], without this passion, commitment is at best superficial. Zeal involves self-sacrifice and earnestness of purpose.”
He goes on to write: “This is why I am not overly anxious for our camp, what we call “Modern Orthodoxy,” to cut off from the “right wing.” “The Yeshiva world,” and the “Hasidic world” are reservoirs of passionate commitment, without which we are wishy-washy, wan, weak, and wavering. Of course,” he writes, “I am unhappy with many of their policies and their… rhetoric. But our very survival may very well depend on the degree to which we can become inspired by their zeal and learn to bring passion to our own commitments, no matter how much we disagree with them on specific issues.”
If you want to understand what he means, drive up to Lakewood, New Jersey, on any given weekday and join them for a Mincha Minyan. They will pray with more passion than many of us do on Yom Kippur. Go into any Beis Medrash in our community at 8 PM and you will find it packed with people learning Torah after a long day of work, while many Modern Orthodox shul’s lights are off. And go look at the numbers of Tzedakah dollars or Chesed organizations coming from those on the right compared to those down the middle, and you will see a community of people, in Israel and in the USA who are doing something right; there is a passion, a zeal, a self-sacrifice that no one else has come close to.
Should Charedim serve in the IDF? I think so. They have an absolute responsibility to do their part in defending the Jewish People. Full stop.
But will pushing them to serve, even with all the accommodations, impact the future of Judaism? It just might. Do we have what to learn from this community? We most absolutely do.
And so, with a few hours left before Shabbos began, I encouraged my friend to donate to Keren Olam HaTorah – and I donated as well.
We are in the midst of the Three Weeks of Mourning, a time during which we reflect on the destruction of the Temple caused by infighting. More Jews died in the fall of Jerusalem by the sword of their brother than by the Romans. Let’s be fiercely proud of and profoundly grateful to the Religious-Zionist community who have been bravely fighting at the front line, giving their lives to defend us. Let us hope and pray that they can be joined by more Jews who can help them carry their crushing burden. And let’s be open-minded to the incredible value and the lessons we need to learn from our Charedi brethren.
