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ASK THE RABBI "Ask the Rabbi" will appear monthly as long as questions are asked. Please send your questions via E-mail by clicking here or drop a note in the envelope on the rabbi's office door. All questioner's identities will remain confidential. Dear Rabbi, At the end of my 12 Step meetings, the group joins hands in a circle and says the Lord's Prayer. When I am there at the end, sometimes I say the prayer and sometimes I don't. I didn't feel I was 'worshipping false idols' when I said the prayer, I felt like I was just part of the fellowship and saying the words, not praying the words. I have no problem saying the Serenity prayer (which we say at the end of business meetings), but lately I am noticing I am not comfortable with the Lord's Prayer, and questioning whether it's wrong even to stand silently with bowed head. -Prayer-full in Peoria Dear Prayer-full: Our Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. The words of the Lord's Prayer may sound somewhat familiar to Jewish worshipers. In many senses, it echoes some of the various meditations offered at the end of the Amidah or central standing prayer of the Jewish liturgy. For example, look at this one from Kol HaNeshemah, p. 322: Sovereign of the universe, fulfill my heart's petitions for the good, Since there doesn't seem to be any thing antithetical to Judaism or offensive to Judaism in this prayer, I see no reason to avoid being respectfully present while it is recited. Standing in support of its intent and ideals, bowing ones head or even offering an "Amen" to the prayer, which essentially asks God for support on our life's journeys, seems at the very least, harmless and maybe even desirable. It would not be appropriate, however, for a Jew to lead the recitation or recite the prayer with the community. Rabbi Elyse Dear Rabbi: I often hear certain Hebrew words pronounced in synagogue differently than the way I remember hearing them as a child. For example – you say “a-li-YAH “for the honor of blessing the Torah. I remember hearing “a-LEE-ah” growing up. Other examples include ShaBAT/SHAbes; MitzVAH/MITZvah; siDOOR/SIHder. What gives? Sincerely, Ms. Tomayto/Tomahto Dear Mr. Potayto/Potahto: You ask a very good question. Although the words you site in your examples seem like two versions of the same words, what you are hearing, in fact, are two different dialects of Hebrew. These two dialects come from two very different versions of Jewish culture and language and can signify where a person comes from (Jewishly, at least). The first version of the words you mention – where the accent is on the last syllable and the final letter tav is often pronounced with a “t” sound rather than an “s” sound - is a dialect that descends from Sephardic culture and the Jewish communities of the Middle East. This is also the dialect of Modern Hebrew spoken in Israel. A number of decades ago, most Jewish communities in America adopted this dialect for teaching and speaking as a way to maintain unity with the growing Jewish community of Israel. It is considered a modern way to speak Hebrew. The second version of the words – where the first syllable is accented and the final letter tav is often pronounced “s” - is descended from Ashkenazi (Eastern European) Jewish culture and is heavily influenced by Yiddish. Many of us may recall our grandparents intoning the Mourner’s Kaddish like this: Yisgadal viskadol shmay roboh…… The heavy Ashkenazi accent of the older generations of our families sounds rich and laden with the cultural experiences they carried. It is a sound I often miss in our community and that is rapidly dying out as most Jews grow up today with the Modern Hebrew versions in their heads. The people who spoke this way also used words like “Gedzuntheit, yarmulke and shul (Yiddish for God bless you, kippah and synagogue respectively) in their speech more often than the English or Hebrew counterparts. Although both versions are correct, we tend to use and teach the Modern Hebrew versions at Agudas Achim. But you are always welcome to use the language you know – the Jewish accent that is in your heart – to speak the words of our tradition. Dear Rabbi (from the Archives of Kolel’s Reb on the Web): Since the whole idea of eating matza -- unleavened bread -- on Pesach is to commemorate the fact that the Israelites did not have time to allow their bread to leaven when they left on the exodus from Egypt, why then is it considered Pesachdic to leaven baked goods with air? I have watched people serve leavened cakes, pancakes and even sandwich rolls at their Pesach tables. Why is it permissible to leaven goods with air and not with yeast? Leavened is leavened, is it not? – Puffed-up in Peoria Dear Puffed: I love this question (and a whole category of questions like it) because it allows me (a non-Orthodox Jew) to defend Orthodoxy and generally wreak havoc with denominational stereotypes. If you're a believing Orthodox Jew, or the kind of Conservative Jew that your Conservative rabbi wishes you were, then your central connection to God is in doing God's will as expressed in the halakhah -- Jewish law. Following God's rules is the essential Jewish act in halakhic denominations of Judaism. Now, if following God's law is the central religious activity, then delving into the intricacies of God's law is admirable, and practicing according to those intricacies is holy. So from outside the halakhic system, all those puffy products seem like a hypocritical defeating of the whole idea of Passover. But within the system, they're not. They are making use of the intricacies of halakhah and its particular definitions of leavening in order to increase culinary enjoyment on Passover. And that is a holy act. The same could be said, for example, of the practice of selling one's chamets to non-Jews for the duration of the holiday in order to be able to leave it in your house. Some would deride that as a "legal fiction" that lets one avoid the practice of Passover. But that's exactly wrong! It may be a "legal fiction," but what's important is that it's "legal" and therefore, within the halakhic system, essentially good. It is following God's law, which is the main thing you are supposed to do. Some people have heard me teach this idea and didn't believe that I was being sincere. But I am. Although I do not center my own Judaism on the practice of halakhah, I can appreciate why someone would do so. And given such rule-centered practice, such "legal fictions" as "unleavened sandwich rolls" make completely good sense and are not at all hypocritical. However, what should we say for those of us who are not law-centered Jews? It would seem to me that this may be an area where liberal Jews may need to be more strict (the Hebrew term is "makhmir") than their strict coreligionists. If, for example, one views Judaism as a symbolic language in which Jews try to search for God's truth with themselves, with each other, and with God, then Passover cookies are a very confusing use of that symbolic language. Our very lack of rule-centeredness may require us to impose a stricter rule on ourselves than those Jews who "follow the rules!" A principled liberal Judaism is not just about taking the easy way out. If we observe the laws of Passover because we find in them some inherent meaning and connection to greater values, then Pesadich rolls would not be a recommended part of our Passover table. Answer from Rabbi Jeremy Schwartz, Willimantic Connecticut Dear Rabbi, What exactly is the Star of David and why is it considered the symbol of Jewish identity? From Starry-eyed questioner. Dear Starry-eyed, The Magen David (shield of David, or as it is more commonly known, the Star of David) is the symbol most commonly associated with Judaism today, but it is actually a relatively new Jewish symbol. It is supposed to represent the shape of King David's shield (or perhaps the emblem on it), but there is really no support for that claim in any early rabbinic literature. In fact, the symbol is so rare in early Jewish literature and artwork that art dealers suspect forgery if they find the symbol in early works. In the middle ages, Jews often were required to wear badges to identify themselves as Jews, much as they were in Nazi Germany, but these Jewish badges were not always the familiar Magen David. For example, a fifteenth century painting by Nuno Goncalves features a rabbi wearing a six-pointed badge that looks more or less like an asterisk. In the 17th century, it became a popular practice to put Magen Davids on the outside of synagogues, to identify them as Jewish houses of worship in much the same way that a cross identified a Christian house of worship; however, I have never seen any explanation of why this symbol was chosen, rather than some other symbol. Today, the Magen David is a universally recognized symbol of Jewry. It appears on the flag of the state of Israel, and the Israeli equivalent of the Red Cross is known as the Magen David Adom. Reprinted from Judaism 101 with permission, Copyright 5756-5763 (1995-2002), Tracey R Rich Dear Rabbi, What is the Jewish position on organ donation and transplants? Answer: This month’s answer comes from Rabbi Jeremy Schwartz (a Reconstructionist rabbi in Willamantic, CT) and his “Reb on the Web” column sponsored by the Reform movement’s adult learning program in Toronto. In another column, we learned that the prohibition against tattoos, contrary to what we had all thought, was not based primarily on the sanctity of the body or objections to altering it. This week, we deal with issues that are based in the sanctity of the body, namely, the medical use of organs from the dead. It is as if while we are alive, our most precious gift from God is our ability to know Him/Her/It. Therefore, our primary concern even with respect to issues of the body is the avoidance of idolatry. In contrast, the dead body's only gift is its own self and those who care for its respectful burial. In this case, issues of respect for the body itself become central. To get directly to the bottom line, life-saving organ transplants, including heart transplants, are allowed by all liberal branches of Judaism and are also allowed by many Orthodox authorities, including the Israeli Chief Rabbinate and, as far as I understand, the Rabbinical Council of America, under particular conditions. To put the matter simply, the requirement of pikuach nefesh, saving a life, takes precedence over every other commandment except idolatry, sexual immorality, and murder. This includes the commandment to bury the deceased whole. Thus, the Talmud, (Pesachim 25a) says: "We may use any material for healing except that which is connected with idolatry, immorality, and bloodshed." And Maimonides says (Hilchot Yesodei Hatorah 5:6): "He who is sick and in danger of death, and the physician tells him that he can be cured be a certain object or material which is forbidden by the Torah, must obey the physician and be cured." The issue of brain-death becomes important, because if brain-death is not death, then the removal of a functional heart from a brain-dead person would be murder (or at least a non-permissible hastening of death) and therefore disallowed even to save another life. This is indeed the central issue of debate regarding heart transplants in the Orthodox world. Some authorities accept certain criteria of brain-death and derive this halachically from analogy with decapitation. (A decapitated person whose heart is still beating is halachically dead.) Others do not accept this analogy. Even given the considerations of the importance of saving a life, some may have lingering questions about the need to bury organs and the need to give honor and respect to the dead. I offer the following commentaries (not my own): Some commentators have argued that those organs which have been donated are no longer dead, and therefore are no longer in need of burial. The organs have, indeed, experienced a small version of the traditional hope for the messianic times: the resurrection of the dead, techiyat hametim. And certainly it can only bring honor to the deceased to participate in that miracle. written by Rabbi Jeremy Schwartz Hello Rabbi Elyse, I'm aware of both sides of the tattoo issue. Many say that it's a perfectly legitimate way to proudly display your heritage and beliefs, like a Star of David pendant or a yarmulke. Others view it as clearly un-Jewish. Both sides can find torah passages to support their views. Does Reconstructionist Judaism have any particular views on Jews and tattoos? Is it taboo? Thanks so much! Dear Just Wondering: This is a wonderful question, one which there seems to be more misinformation than actual information out in the public realm. Jews have traditionally believed that the body is a sacred gift from God and should not be intentionally or unnecessarily cut, marred or otherwise altered, except in the case of circumcision which is a specific commandment. It is considered a positive commandment to care for the body and maintain a healthy lifestyle. There is a specific prohibition against tattooing in the Torah: "You shall not make gashes in your flesh for the dead nor incise any marks on yourselves, I am the Lord" (Leviticus 19:28) However, both the Talmudic exposition of this text and the later writings of Maimonides understand this to be a specific prohibition against certain practices attributed to idol worshippers and other non-Israelite communities. There is ample evidence that tattooing as a mark of slavery and subservience (either to a human master or divine persona) was a common practice in the ancient Near East as well as in Greek and Roman civilizations. Therefore, the prohibition in Torah may have been a way to separate and differentiate Israelites from surrounding peoples. This traditional negative attitude toward tattooing has been reawakened in our generation by the association of tattoos with concentration camps and the Holocaust. Many people feel that the idea of tattoos themselves reawaken our collective painful memories and would shy away from tattoos for that reason alone. Yet, with all this being said, there is no evidence or truth to the often quoted notion that a Jew with a tattoo cannot be buried in a Jewish cemetery. Although this is the most common reason I hear offered for refraining from a tattoo, it seems to be a myth not based in Jewish law or teaching. I personally think this idea is a bubbe maise (grandmother story) perpetuated by parents trying to prevent their children from doing something the parents found reprehensible. I know of no Jewish cemetery, including the one we own at Agudas Achim, that would refuse burial to someone with a tattoo - especially since the Holocaust when so many of our people were marked against their will. The tradition would never be so cruel as to pour salt on such a deep wound. In your question, you ask for a contemporary, Reconstructionist response. Our responsibility as Reconstructionist Jews is to study these texts and passages, identify the values that under gird the traditions and uncover our own and our community's values about bodily integrity, free will, respect, modesty, etc. and draw our conclusions. That being said, the answer might be different for each of us. For me, the idea that my body is a gift from God and should be treated as such seems a profound value worth maintaining. In addition, although we do not see many people walking around with the names of Roman or Greek gods tattooed on their chests, there is an aspect of tattooing in our culture which encourages the worship of our bodies and of a certain kind of body image that I do find idolatrous. Whether it is one's so called "individuality" or "pride" that encourages one to get a tattoo, or a desire to advertise something about oneself, it all seems rather immodest to me. So, out of respect for God's creatures and for the sake of modesty, I would recommend against tattooing for Jews Respectfully; Dear Rabbi: What is the difference between the Old Testament and the Torah? I thought they were the same thing until I heard you mention that they weren’t. Please explain. - Overbooked. Dear Overbooked: This is a great question in that the confusion over the Christian Old Testament and the Jewish Hebrew Bible is prevalent in both Jewish and Christian communities. Many Christians believe we read only half of their bible – and many Jews believe the same thing. The Hebrew Bible – the one Jews read – consists of 39 books. In Hebrew, we call it the TaNaKh – an acronym for the three sections of Torah (Law); Neve’im (Prophets) and Writings (Ketuvim). The Torah is the Five Books of Moses which include Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy. Neve’im contain 21 books including the continued story from the Torah of the Jewish People‘s journey into the land after the death of Moses and prophetic writings named for their authors (or schools of origin). The final section, Ketuvim, contains additional books like Psalms, Proverbs, the Megillot read on various holidays, and a few other later books. The Christian Bible, on the other hand, contains these books plus a few other ones in a section known as the “Old Testament” and the writings of the followers of Jesus, known as the “New Testament.” The Christian Old Testament looks very similar to our Bible – except (and this is important) the books are in a different order, there are some additional books that we don’t have, and most importantly they come down in their current form from an early Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible known as the Septuagint. In other words – the Old Testament’s language of origin is Greek. The Torah’s language of origin is Hebrew. As the saying goes – all translation is commentary. Therefore, they are two entirely separate books. Furthermore, the Torah and the Christian Old Testament differ in the tradition in which they are read (the glasses through which they are seen, one might say). Even when we are reading the same words on the page, Christians read the Bible through Christian lenses with two thousand years of commentary, interpretations and assumptions about what the text says while we read the Bible through two thousand years of Jewish commentary, interpretations and assumptions. While we are on this subject, I want to talk about the incorrect notion that our Bible stopped at a certain point while the Christian one kept going. Yes – it is true that Christians include in their sacred scripture the writings and teachings of the followers of Jesus (the Gospels) and call that the New Testament. These teachings (new two thousand years ago) reflect the struggle of one group of people to navigate the world and create a way of life after the preceding era of what we call Biblical Judaism ended. They became the foundational and sacred documents for the new millennium for those people – the Christians. We also have foundational documents for a way of life after the end of Biblical Judaism. We call it the Talmud. Our Talmud and its commentaries contain the struggle of another group of people to create a way of life after the preceding era of what we call Biblical Judaism ended. Both the New Testament and the Talmud are supplemental to the older scriptures for their respective communities. In fact – as far as our tradition is concerned – that unfolding continues until this very day with new and more commentaries all the time. Don’t ever let any one tell you that Christianity and its texts replaced Judaism. In fact both Christianity and Judaism continue to evolve as heirs to the earlier biblical tradition shared by us both. Dear Rabbi: You often send out notices informing us of the death in a member’s family and ask us to attend shiva minyanim or make a “shiva call.” It isn’t always clear to me what is expected when I go to the home of mourner. Any thoughts for helping me feel little less uncomfortable? Nervous Nellie Dear Nervous: This is a wonderful question. I was recently directed to this article below written by a friend and colleague in California. The first half, “What to Expect in a House of Shiva”, is reprinted here as an answer to your question. The second half, “What to do in a House of Shiva,” is also now printed below . Rabbi Elyse PART 1 By Rabbi Daniel Kohn In the Jewish tradition, immediately upon the burial of a loved one, some family members may choose to observe a traditional period of grief and mourning referred to as "sitting shiva. This means to mourn seven (shiva, in Hebrew) days, although some people may choose to mourn fewer days. During this time, family members traditionally gather in one home and receive visitors. It is considered a great mitzvah, or commandment, of loving kindness and compassion to pay a home visit to the mourners. To help you feel comfortable paying a "shiva call," that is, visiting someone in mourning in their home during this time, this article will be divided into two parts. Part one is a list of customs and traditions that you may see and encounter in a house of shiva, or mourning. The second part (to be printed in May’s newsletter) is a list of suggestions and recommendations of social protocol, such as to how to behave, what to say, and what to bring to a house of shiva. It is important to note that all Jews do not mourn alike. Some people may choose to observe the rites and customs of mourning very meticulously as a form of spiritual support during their time of grief, even if they are not very religiously observant in their everyday lives. Others may observe only some of these customs and be more relaxed and creative in their observance. In either case, this article will briefly touch on a wide range of traditional customs so as to provide you with as broad a background as possible. What to Expect in a House of Shiva When entering a house of shiva, you may notice a tall candle burning on a table or window sill. Often provided by funeral homes, these candles burn for seven days throughout the period of shiva. The candle is not merely a time-keeper, but a symbolic memorial to the deceased in keeping with the biblical sentiment, "the flame of God is the soul of man." (Proverbs 20:27) In some shiva houses, people cover the mirrors. Superstitious reasons abound for this practice, but it is rooted in a sensitive and meaningful Jewish custom. In a time of grief, the last thing we may feel like doing is putting on a happy face for the outside world. Therefore, it is traditional for men and women not to worry about their appearance during the week of mourning. Women should not feel obliged to put on make-up and men should not feel the need to shave. Covering mirrors is a way to subtly remind mourners and visitors alike of the ephemeral nature of our bodies and our shared mortality. The mourners themselves, in addition to not wearing make-up or shaving, may also continue to wear a ripped black ribbon or even a ripped article of clothing throughout the week of mourning. It is a tradition for mourners to ritually tear a piece of clothing or ribbon as a symbolic representation of their broken hearts. Wearing this ripped garment or ribbon is an acknowledgment of the psychologically enduring sense of loss felt by the mourners, but it is ultimately put aside after the seven days of mourning. The mourners may also be in their socks or slippers and be sitting on low stools or even the floor. This is symbolic of the emotional reality of being "brought low" by the grief. By discarding shoes and sitting on the floor, a mourner is somewhat closer to the earth in which they just buried their loved one. It is also a symbol of humility in the face of death. Traditional mourners will not go to work during the period of shiva, run errands outside of the house, or even turn on the T.V. or radio. They will shun any kind of entertainment or distraction in order to acknowledge their need to grieve in a timely manner. The period of shiva is intentionally set aside from normal, everyday life in order to enable mourners to gather their thoughts and focus on their memories of the deceased. The purpose of shiva is to give voice to sadness, not suppress it. It may be surprising for a visitor to discover a house of shiva well stocked with food, drinks and cakes. The week of shiva is not only about remembering and honoring the dead, but is also intended to sustain and celebrate the on-going cycle of life. Mourners are not expected to play host for their guests; therefore, visitors often bring substantial meals and food for the family and guests alike. In fact, the first meal upon returning from the cemetery is called in Hebrew, the seudat ha'vra'ah, which means, "the meal of healing." While most mourners may not feel like cooking or eating, it is the responsibility of the community to ensure their physical well-being and make sure there is enough food on-hand for both mourners and well-wishers. In addition to talking and eating, a house of shiva traditionally includes regular prayer services. Many Jewish communities and synagogues often arrange for daily worship services to be held in the house of shiva so as to provide an opportunity for the mourners to recite the Kaddish. The Kaddish is an ancient prayer in Aramaic, a sister-language of Hebrew spoken by Jews in antiquity, and is recited in memory of the deceased. The Kaddish can be recited everyday, three times a day, throughout the week of mourning and beyond, depending upon the relationship to the deceased. When a parent passes, it is traditional for the children to recite the Kaddish for an entire year, long after the period of shiva concludes. PART 2 By Rabbi Daniel Kohn What to Do in a House of Shiva If you plan to pay a shiva call, arrange to bring some food to the home instead of flowers (see below). If the family observes the traditional laws of keeping kosher, inquire as to where you might be able to purchase some prepared and packaged kosher bakery items. Some mourners may adhere to the custom of not greeting their visitors. Some mourners may not even shake hands with their guests. Please do not be offended, as they are not trying to be rude. As mentioned above, mourners are not expected to serve as hosts in their own home during shiva. Preoccupied with their own grief, the Jewish tradition temporarily relieves mourners of the social obligation to "meet and greet" their visitors. In addition, most social greetings include a friendly but often superficial, "How are you doing?" It is considered rude and insensitive to blithely ask someone in grief how are they doing, when it is clear that they may be in great pain and sadness. Therefore, it is considered appropriate social protocol for guests making a shiva call to make their presence known to the mourners with a simple, "I'm sorry for your loss," or even a compassionate embrace or arm on the shoulder. It is not important what you may say, but rather that you came and offered your presence to a friend in a time of need. Hopefully you will not feel so uncomfortable in a house of shiva that you end up avoiding speaking with those in mourning. Similarly, do not feel that you have to spend all of your time speaking with the mourners. It is appropriate to bring children to a house of shiva; it is appropriate to eat the cakes and pastries available, and it is also acceptable to talk with other guests and socialize. While making a shiva call is not an occasion to party, the atmosphere should not be one of complete deferential silence or hushed whispers. A house of shiva should have an air of a family gathering albeit for a solemn reason, but it should also be a house in which, despite the presence of death, life continues. Instead of flowers, it is traditional for those wishing to express their condolences to make charitable contributions to causes and organizations which were important to the deceased. The reasoning behind this custom is that while flowers may beautify a gravesite or home for a few days, a monetary contribution to a worthy organization supports ideals and actions in the real world that honor the charitable intentions of the deceased. Families often announce such charities at a funeral, in which case, it is appropriate to send a contribution in the honor of the deceased. Such organizations often send a card to the mourners acknowledging your gift so your contribution will not go unappreciated. Rabbi Daniel Kohn is a house-husband raising his daughter in Mill Valley, California. When his parenting schedule permits, he is the community educator for Lehrhaus Judaica and the Jewish Community Center of San Francisco. He is most recently the author of Kinesethic Kabbalah: Spiritual Practices from Martial Arts and Jewish Mysticism (www.kinesthetickabbalah.com), as well as other books. These articles originally appeared on InterfaithFamily.com, the online resource for interfaith families exploring Jewish life.
Dear Rabbi: Signed, Dear Tree Hugger: You are right to say that traditional Jewish law (halacha) does not permit cremation. This prohibition may stem from several sources. First of all, the word for man in Hebrew (Adam) is closely related to the word for earth (Adamah). The Psalms speak often of "returning to dust" and returning to the earth from whence, ostensibly, we earthlings came. In addition, Judaism has long maintained a belief in the resurrection of the dead in the world-to-come - the mythical future-world also known as the messianic realm. This belief has taken many forms over the centuries including the notion that our actual bodies would be resurrected (and who wants to come back as ashes?) and that the closer one is to Jerusalem the earlier one would be resurrected. Hence the city is surrounded on all sides by crowded cemeteries and graves. While most Reconstructionist Jews do not continue the belief in bodily resurrection, we do value the long-standing traditions and sensibilities of our ancestors. The taboo against cremation has remained present, particularly in the post-Holocaust world where many Jews see cremation as a reminder of the horrors suffered by our people at the hands of the Nazis. For these reasons, plus the Jewish traditions of internment as a familial responsibility, visiting grave sites, placing a tombstone, and other such memorial acts, cremation has never become a mainstream Jewish tradition. Therefore, many rabbis will not officiate at a memorial service and many Jewish cemeteries have restrictions against the burial of cremated remains in deference to Jewish law. However, it is important to note that some Jews have chosen cremation and that more and more are doing so all the time. First of all, cremation is often presented as a cheaper alternative than burial (although that may not really be true if funeral and burial arrangements are modest). And some people, like you, would rather not take up space in a cemetery. Many families do not have a strong tradition of visiting gravesites, and may speak, instead, of carrying the deceased in their hearts and reflecting on memories in favorite places and shared experiences rather than in a cemetery. Some Jewish cemeteries do have sections where cremated remains can be buried and some rabbis will officiate - as I have on occasion - at memorial services for those who have chosen this route. The most important thing, from my perspective, is to speak with family and loved ones about their (and your) wishes long before such decisions have to be made. It is also important to clarify what Jewish ritual options are available and desirable in each specific case. If asked, I, for one, would recommend traditional burial. I happen to love Jewish cemeteries. We have a beautiful one of our own right here in Attleboro. The stones speak volumes about the history of our little community and I would hate for that to be lost. And I can't think of a better use for green-space that might otherwise become developed land. However, as I said before, I have officiated at memorial services of those who have chosen cremation - even for members of my own family. The mitzvot of honoring one's parents (and grandparents) and honoring the deceased trump my understanding of Jewish law every time. Rabbi Elyse Dear Rabbi: From, Dear Bewildered: Since our tradition values community, the rabbis considered public prayer to be more valuable than private prayer. To pray with a "minyan" is a mitzvah. Certain prayers (although really only a few, can be recited only in the presence of a minyan - meaning in a public (Jewish) setting. This includes any form of Kaddish, Barchu, Amidah (communal) and a Torah service. Some rituals also require a minyan (or at least, prefer it): weddings, brit milah, and burials. Halacha - Jewish law - provides for cases when nine are present. In that case, according to Jewish law, a pre-Bar/Bat Mitzvah student holding a Torah scroll can be counted as number 10. In some communities, the Torah scrolls themselves are counted. Generally speaking, children under 13 are not counted, nor are non-Jews who, by definition, do not make up the collective Jewish community. So in the case of the 9 Jews on an Island - if they had a Torah scroll or a young child or both, they could count that and pray. Alternatively, if they did not considered themselves bound by traditional halacha, they could say that nine was the maximum number of their full community, therefore, whenever 9 showed up to pray, they could have a full service. But of course, you know, that if there are 9 Jews on an island, there are six synagogues and the members of one won't step foot in the other, so the question is really, if they are stranded in a forest - would any one hear them call? Hope this clarifies things. Dear Rabbi: From, Dear Curious: The term "rabbi" (in Hebrew: rav) refers traditionally to someone ordained by another rabbi to teach Torah and issue decisions on Halacha (Jewish Law) through careful study of source material and in consultation with other rabbinic authorities of the day. Modern rabbis are similarly trained as Torah teachers and spiritual leaders, but also as pastors, administrators, community leaders, etc. Most rabbis today are not ordained by one teacher or mentor, but rather by the entire faculty of a particular rabbinical school. (As a graduate of the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College, one could say I was ordained by the faculty and leaders of the Reconstructionist movement). Traditionally, and today, rabbis see themselves as links in the chain of tradition and Jewish learning going back to ancient times. That is why we often like to quote or refer back to teachers or mentors (whether actual or literary) by citing our "rabbis" when offering teachings in our communities. It is a mitzvah, in Jewish tradition, to teach in someone's name - hence, offering credit, where credit is due. However, sometimes, it is hard to identify exactly where a particular Jewish teaching or tradition comes from. It may be something that appears in many different texts, from many places and time periods, without a specific name attached. Hence, we might say that it is something "Tradition says," or "The Rabbis say..." meaning that a teaching is a normative Jewish idea or tradition. That is one answer to the questions: Who are "the Rabbis." There is another, more precise answer as well. Judaism as a tradition, has evolved over many different time periods and through many different civilizations in history. Sometimes, for ease of reference, we categorize those periods into large eras and periods of development. Hence, the period up to shortly before the destruction of the ancient Temple in the year 70 CE is referred to as "The Biblical Period." It was the period about which we learn by studying the Bible (Torah, Nave'im and Ketuvim) and concurrent materials. The next great stage of Judaism's evolution was after the destruction and during the time of the writing, gathering and transmitting of the "Oral Torah" or unwritten traditions of the Jewish people, into a new kind of literature: The Mishneh, Midrash and Talmud. The authors of these great works of Jewish literature called themselves Rabbis (as opposed to priests and prophets of the earlier era). Hence, this period, from about 200 BCE to approximately 600 CE. is known as the rabbinic period and the architects of Judaism and Jewish teaching during this time are known as "The Rabbis."
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