Showing posts with label Orot Teachers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Orot Teachers. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Rav Shvat's Shiur

Every culture has their own children's stories, which not only express their philosophy but also, in turn, influence the next generation, as well. On the one hand, Islamic stories stress how Allah runs the world, with man's free-will relatively limited, while western stories stress man's free will and initiative, but basically eliminate the role of G-d. The stories in the Tanach clearly intend to raise a generation who does not rely on miracles yet prays to Hashem to help man's efforts, initiatives, and free will. To celebrate Chanukah fully, we must recognize and thank Hashem also for the miracle of the oil, yet also for the military victory of Yehudah HaMaccabi and his brothers, who davened before every battle, in addition to developing military strategy of their own. Thus we will BH raise a generation which will revive the ideal Jew and ideal Jewish Nation of old.
Chanukah Same'ach,
Rav Ari Shvat

Click here for the audio link, or listen in the handy audio player supplied below.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

The Nobel Prize: Good for the Jews?

Rav Yonah Goodman
Director of the Advanced Institute for Contemporary Education and Religion

Israeli Professor Ada Yonath of the Weizmann Institute in Rechovot recently received the Nobel Prize in Chemistry in Stockholm. She has become the 176th Jew (comprising 22% of Nobel Prize winners throughout history) and the ninth Israeli to win the Nobel Prize. But is there any reason for us to get excited about this? Rav Yonah Goodman, Director of Religious Education, Orot College, offers an answer.

Recently, Israelis learned that this year’s Nobel Prize in Chemistry is to be awarded to an Israeli scientist, Professor Ada Yonath of the Weizmann Institute. The media devoted several days to the story, but why should we care? Does Yonath’s prize have any implication for the rest of us?
As it so happened, I was talking about the news with several secular teachers. They all insisted that they were very excited and that they planned on discussing the prize in class. One even declared, “The nations of the world have given us a tremendous honor,” and the students must hear about it.
However, when I asked an educator in a religious school if he was going to bring up the subject in his classroom, he seemed surprised at the question. He replied, “What? We need the non-Jews’ honor?! They should be the ones to determine if we’re worthy or not? After all, our honor is dependent on our spiritual stature and not on commissions comprised of various professors. Maybe you missed it, but on Simchat Torah, we danced with a Sefer Torah, not a chemistry book!”
Although I doubt that most religious teachers would agree with his statement, there is no question that the topic was covered with much more enthusiasm in the secular system (including its media) than in the religious sector, which mainly reacted with indifference to the story.
Indeed, I frequently wonder if the secular public’s enthusiasm for a given topic is sufficient cause for part of the religious public to condemn it. Nevertheless, I believe that there are many reasons why Professor Yonath’s achievement matters:
1. Is chemistry – and science, in general – truly unimportant? How can we successfully run a country if we do not have people who excel in every field? Should we resort to importing non-Jewish doctors, engineers, CEO’s, and officers?
2. HaKadosh Baruch Hu ordered us “to perfect the universe through the sovereignty of the Almighty” (from the Aleinu prayer) – and not only on the spiritual plane. Are we not obligated to contribute to the human effort to heal the sick (an endeavor which was advanced as a result of Yonath’s discoveries)? When Hashem commands us “and subdue it” (Breishit 1:28), we are not meant to wage war. Rather, our task is to overcome challenges and dangers – using a wide range of tools, including scientific ones.
3. Am Yisrael’s mission is to aspire for spiritual excellence and to spread Hashem’s Name throughout the world. We can only accomplish this goal if we are part of the world. Moreover, we must show that our spiritual ascendency goes hand in hand with the fact that we are a healthy nation which includes many different and assorted professionals who contribute to the country and the world. (See Orot 104.) Has our “Diaspora mindset” caused us to become estranged from the wonderful world which HaKadosh Baruch Hu created? (And we have not even mentioned our privilege and responsibility to recognize the wonders of Creation and use them to strengthen our faith. See Rambam – Hilchot Yesodei HaTorah 2:2.)
4. As an interim conclusion, we can say that this award presents us with an opportunity to debate our fundamental approach to secular studies. Are they a manifestation of a weakness or a primary objective? Note that we are not addressing other important questions, such as at what age and to what extent should secular subjects be studied (see Rav Kook’s Iggeret 170); in which framework should they be taught; and so on. We are only focusing here on the importance of clarifying the national-religious public’s attitude towards secular studies.
Another issue is our position on the aforementioned educator’s statement, “What? We need the non-Jews’ honor?!” Obviously, we must find favor in HaKadosh Baruch Hu’s eyes and do His Will wholeheartedly. This is our mission. Yet, HaKadosh Baruch Hu was the One who instructed us to be an ohr lagoyim (a light among the nations), and this light will only increase if we not only excel in our spiritual world but in every field of endeavor. Furthermore, our lifestyle can serve as evidence that these fields need not contradict one another and that they can even be combined. Hence, if the nations of the world recognize our abilities and honor our achievements, this is certainly a partial fulfillment of our duty.
Finally, we should note that Professor Yonath’s life story raises additional issues, which are not necessarily connected to chemistry or secular studies. In a number of interviews, Professor Yonath was asked about her childhood. And as it turns out – surprise, surprise – her parents never enrolled her in classes for gifted children, and she never attended science courses at the nearest university.
In fact, her parents could barely feed her. She grew up in a poor home. Her father died when she was only eleven, and young Yonath was forced to find a job. Yet, according to her, these difficult conditions were what taught her about exertion, perseverance, responsibility, and confronting challenges. These traits enabled her to dedicate decades of her life to her research, even though she faced numerous difficulties and setbacks (including the scorn and contempt of those who doubted her ability to succeed on her chosen path). Without her diligence and determination, she would not have achieved results which will likely benefit the health of millions of people worldwide.
Is there really nothing we can learn from this story? After all, we frequently deal with pedagogical problems in an overly specific manner. For instance, when a child gets discouraged and does not solve a math problem, he is told to keep trying. When a child claims that he cannot clean his room, his mother insists that he is indeed capable of completing the task. Yet, while we handle specific problems, Professor Yonath’s story reminds us that perseverance and determination are important educational goals. Without these traits, we will produce neither scientists nor Torah scholars.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Red Light, Green Light by Rav Sinai Prebor

The Gemara in Shabbat (88b-89a) relates that when Moshe Rabbenu ascended “upon high” to receive the Torah, the angels inquired of Hashem: “Why is there a mortal among us?” Hashem responded: “To receive the Torah.” The angels protested vociferously, claiming that it would be degrading to the Torah for it to be sent down to earth. Hashem commanded Moshe to respond. Moshe proceeded to go down the list of the Aseret Hadibrot, explaining how each one was relevant only to man and not to the angels, hence justifying the Torah’s descent to earth.
The first one says “Anochi Hashem Elokecha asher hotzaitichu me’eretz Mitzraim.” This is of course irrelevant to the angels because they were never in Egypt.
“Lo yihiyeh lecha elohim acherim” doesn’t apply to the angels because in their neighborhood only the true God is recognized. The analysis continues and culminates in Moshe Rabbenu focusing on “Lo Tirtzach, Lo Tinaf, Lo Tignov,” explaining that these do not apply to the angels because they possess neither the characteristic of jealousy nor a yetzer hara.
This analysis of Moshe Rabbenu was persuasive, and the angels immediately agreed with Hashem that the Torah be given to B’nei Yisrael. This well known Agadah from the Gemara poses an important question. Did the argument of Moshe Rabbenu stem from the acknowledgement of man’s weakness, or man’s greatness? This depends on how one interprets the dialogue in the Gemara.
When Moshe says to the angels that the Torah is not for them because they have no yetzer hara, he may mean that the angels are on too high a spiritual level for the Torah to be pertinent to them. The Torah was written and the mitzot formulated to give the Jewish people a system through which they could combat the yetzer hara, and live a spiritual life despite the inherent weakness of the human being. The level of angels was something to which we must aspire. Hence the Torah is inapplicable to the angels, who are created spiritually perfect.
Yet there may be an alternate view of the exchange related in the Gemara. In Sefer Nefesh HaChaim, Rav Chaim Volozhiner claims that the Jewish people are actually considered to be spiritually greater than angels. This is because we are commanded to perform mitzvot, the performance of which causes more of God’s divine light to be revealed in the world. The angels, however, do not have this power. If we apply this idea to the exchange in the Gemara, Moshe might actually be arguing that the Torah’s descent to earth is actually an ascent, whereby its potential to be used as a tool for greater spirituality to be brought into the world will be realized.
Along these lines, Rav Soloveitchik, in his essay Ish Hahalakhah (Halakhic Man) compares our physical lives in this world to the spiritual existence of the soul in the afterlife. He writes: “The Halakhah is not at all concerned with a transcendent world. The world to come is a tranquil, quiet world that is wholly good, wholly everlasting, and wholly eternal, wherein a man will receive the reward for the commandments which he performed in this world. However, the receiving of a reward is not a religious act; therefore, halakhic man prefers the real world to a transcendent existence because here, in this world, man is given the opportunity to create, act, accomplish, while there, in the world to come, he is powerless to change anything at all.”
It appears, therefore, that our ability to act, and the potential to raise ourselves and the world to a higher spiritual level is the raison d’etre of being a Jew. This seems to be in direct opposition to the following statement found in the Gemara (Berachot 10b): “Rabbi Yose bar Rabbi Chanina said in the name of Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov: When praying (sh’emone esre), one’s feet should be together, as the verse (Yechezkel 1:6) states: ‘V’ragleihem regel y’sharah. (And their legs were a straight leg)’” In his commentary on the siddur, Olat Raya (Vol. 1, p. 262), Rav Kook explains that our legs have two uses. They can be used for the act of walking or the act of standing. When one walks, the legs are usable insofar as they are apart. When one stands, the legs are usable insofar as they are close together. When a Jew attempts through his religious life to achieve spiritual perfection, there are two crucial recurring steps in this ongoing process. There is “walking,” whereby a person takes further steps in his knowledge and spiritual growth, adding to his repertoire of learning, mitzvot, and midot. Then there is “standing,” whereby a person must involve himself in strengthening, intensifying, and internalizing of that which he has gained through the “walking,” so as not to lose what has been gained. In Tehilim (24:3), we read “Mi ya’aleh b’har Hashem, u’mi yakum bimkom kadsho.” Maintaining what one has achieved is just as crucial as the achievement. Rav Kook goes on to say that Torah provides the means through which we “walk,” through which we “ascend God’s mountain,” achieving the next stage in our spiritual growth. Tefilah, by contrast, is when we “stand.” Tefilah is when we have the opportunity to reflect on that which we have gained through Torah and Mitzot, and make it a part of us, so as not to lose it.
It is interesting that the verse cited in the Gemara as the source for keeping our feet together during Sh’mone Esre is referring to the angels seen by Yechezkel Hanavi during Ma’aseh Merkavah. During Tefilah, we view ourselves as angels, because angels do not know of spiritual growth. Their relationship with God is permanently static. Ours is fundamentally dynamic, but even we must sometimes have those static moments, emulating the angels, so as to make the changes and achievements a permanent part of us, obviously to enable ourselves to take the next “step” in our ascent.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Greetings from Rav Noam Himelstein


To all Bat Zion Bogrot: Hashem Imachem! It's been a long time ... every once and a while I bump into a former student and we have a great time catching up! I would love to hear from you all though – you don`t have to wait for an official newsletter!

I thought that for a Dvar Torah I'd choose something quite relevant, to my mind:

The Gemara (Ta'anit 20b) relates the following fascinating story:

The Rabbis taught: "A person should always be soft like a reed and not hard like a cedar." Once R. Elazar the son of R. Shimon was coming from his teacher's house in Migdal Gedor, riding on a donkey. He was traveling along the bank of the river with a feeling of great joy and a sense of arrogance, because he had learned a great deal of Torah. A very ugly person happened upon him. The ugly person said: "How are you Rebbe?"R. Elazar did not respond. [Rather,] he said: "Empty one - how ugly this fellow is! Are all the people of your town as ugly as you?" The ugly person responded: "I don't know, but you should go to the craftsman who made me and tell him how ugly is the vessel that he made." R. Elazar knew that he had sinned. He got off the donkey, prostrated himself before the other fellow and said: "I have pained you. Forgive me." The man said: "I will not forgive you until you go to the craftsman who made me and tell him how ugly is the vessel he made."

R. Elazar followed him until they came to his town. All the townspeople came out to greet R. Elazar and they said: "Welcome, our Rabbi, our Rabbi, our teacher, our teacher." The ugly fellow said: "Who are you referring to as your rabbi?" They said: "The one who is walking behind you." He said to them: "If this is a rabbi, let there not be more like him in Israel." They said: "Why?" He said to them: "This is what he did to me." They said to him: "Nevertheless, forgive him because he is a great Torah scholar."
He said to them: "For your sake I forgive him, but on condition that he not become accustomed to act this way."

R. Elazar immediately entered [the study hall] and taught: "A person should always be soft like a reed and not hard like a cedar."

This anecdote raises many questions: To which individual did R. Elazar refer to when he spoke of one who is “hard like a cedar"? What caused R. Elazar to respond as he did? Why was the ugly man so reluctant to forgive the Rabbi? What, indeed, is the moral message the Aggadah wishes to teach us? Certainly, that even great men can make mistakes. But there seems to be more. I have learnt this Aggadah many times with different groups of students (but not with Orot girls! Hence the choice of Aggadah!); every time we have uncovered new messages. Many layers of understanding and interpretation can be found in this story; I will suggest only one.

The Talmud (Shabbat 33b) tells us that Rav Shimon bar Yochai disturbed the Roman authorities, and was compelled to go into hiding in a cave, accompanied by his son and closest student, Rav Elazar. A carob tree and a spring miraculously appeared to provide them with food and water. The Gemara continues: They stayed twelve years in the cave. Then Eliyahu came and stood at the opening of the cave, and said "Who will let Bar Yochai know the Caesar has died and his decrees are nullified?" They went out [of the cave] and saw people who were plowing and sowing. He [Rav Shimon] said, "These people are neglecting eternal life and occupying themselves with transient life?!" Every place they gazed was immediately burned up. A Bat Kol [heavenly voice] declared to them, "Did you go out to destroy My world?! Go back to your cave!" They went back in and lingered twelve months, saying, "The wicked are judged in Gehinnom for twelve months." Then a Bat Kol declared, "Go out of your cave."

Rav Shimon bar Yochais` personality deserves an article in his own right; he was an incredible individual, totally devoted to Torah study and removed from the mundane (See for exp. Berachot 35b). But if indeed the “R. Elazar the son of R. Shimon” mentioned in our story is none other than Rav Shimon bar Yochais` son, who hid in the cave with his father, then an amazing message is revealed.

Note the location of his teachers` house: “Migdal Gedor”. A “migdal” is a tower; “gedor” means “fenced in”. Perhaps R. Elazar felt that the Torah was meant to be studied in the proverbial ivory tower, distanced from the people; only selected elite individuals should be privileged to delve into it. That is why he couldn't relate to the simple, earthly, ugly man; nor could he and his father at first, when they left their cave, understand that in this world, people actually do need to plow and sow! R. Elazar was so holy, so far removed from this world, that he couldn't accept that. It took him and his father another year in the cave, and a rebuke from an ugly man, to realize that although certain individuals should certainly commit themselves wholly to Torah, nevertheless the majority are not like that. Most people do involve themselves in the world around them, and so it should be – as long as they themselves are committed to Torah, and find a place for Torah in their daily lives. The message then is that Torah is not meant to be restricted to “Migdal Gedor”, but is relevant to everyone, at all times and in all places. How important is this as we pursue our college careers, join the workforce, and get involved with the world around us! We all have a special Chelek of Torah, and we must keep this as part of our lives, in all our endeavors!

Please be in touch, you are always all welcome for shabbat or just to come and shmooze! 054-3090892, or ravnoam@orayta.org.

Kol tuv,

Noam Himelstein

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Rav Chwat Sings Al Hamichyah

Several years ago, Rav Ari Chwat composed a wonderful version of Al Hamichyah to help children learn the words of the brachah and make it easier for them to remember. You may remember Rav Chwat singing this and many other songs during his chug shira at Orot.

For the catchy tune you can click here to see it on YouTube, or click below to listen to the song.