Rabbi, I have a problem

Should I give charity only to Zionist causes in Israel?

Simon Rocker — Sun, 19 May 2013 10:39:49 +0100

Question: A very Orthodox man came to our door collecting for a school which helps special needs children in Israel. I asked if the institution were Zionist; he said no, so I would not give a donation. Was I right to stand by my political principles or should I have set them aside and given something?

Rabbi Naftali Brawer

Naftali Brawer is the CEO of the Spiritual Capital Foundation.

Let’s assume for a moment that instead of it being a special needs school, it was an ordinary, non-Zionist school; would you ask the same question? I suspect not. Charitable givers are perfectly within their rights to discern which organisations get their hard-earned money. If as an ardent Zionist, you disagree with what is being taught in a non-Zionist school you are under no obligation to fund it.

Your question arises because the school serves special needs children and no one feels comfortable turning away the especially vulnerable. Still I don’t think this emotional element should change the equation. Education is not ideologically neutral. Education systems impart certain values while rejecting others. If you don’t share the values of the school in question there is no reason for you to support it financially, regardless of whether the pupils have special needs or not.

If, however, the man at your door was collecting for a non-Zionist soup kitchen to feed the hungry, or a hospital to heal the sick, it would be a different story. Food and healthcare are ideologically neutral. Even if the institution itself is ideologically aligned, hunger and illness are not. Imagine what kind of world we would live in if the starving would have to profess ideologically correct views before becoming eligible to receive aid.

The phenomenon of door-to-door collections for charities in Israel — a prevalent practice in north-west London — raises a broader question; to what extent is one obligated to give to the needy of another community, especially when there are demands from one’s own local community?

Maimonides rules that one’s own community must always take preference in the same way that one’s needy relatives take preference over non-relatives. Given the enormous need within our own communities, how can one ever justify giving anything to the needy in Israel, or in another country for that matter?

Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein raises this unattractive possibility in his halachic work Aruch Hashulchan. He observes wryly that every rich man has numerous poor relatives, so what is a poor man to do if he doesn’t have a rich relative: starve? He interprets the law of precedence to mean that one should give more to those closest but that one should always make sure enough remains to give something to non-relatives and the needy who live further afield..

Rabbi Jonathan Romain

Jonathan Romain is rabbi at Maidenhead (Reform) Synagogue.

Congratulations on the way you handled the person initially. When faced with an unfamiliar charity, some give without thinking and support a group about which they do not have any facts and might not assist if they did.

Others refuse because they do not recognise it, or are too embarrassed to ask questions. It is much better to engage with the person (a genuine collector will always be pleased to tell you about the cause) and find out what it is trying to achieve.

As for your subsequent reaction, there are two aspects. First is the general principle of responding to those in need, which is central to Judaism. It is rooted on a personal level in the command to “love your neighbour as yourself’ (Leviticus 19.18): if you yourself were impoverished or ill or vulnerable, how would you like people to act towards you? That should be your guideline whenever dealing with others.

The importance of giving lies in the very term we use: whereas the English word “charity” carries the sense of a beneficient decision that is especially noble, the Hebrew term for it, tzedakah, — literally means “righteousness” and carries the sense of a basic obligation incumbent on everyone. It is a duty, not a good deed.

But the rabbis also say that there is a limit to giving, and you should not hand over so much that you become dependent on others yourself. It follows that there is a right to say “no” to some charities, and there is no blanket obligation to give unreservedly.

This is the second aspect to charity, deciding which causes to support and which not to help. Some might simply decide to back the first two or three charities a day which approach them. Others will prefer causes with which they have a personal connection, such as a relative suffering from cancer. Others will avoid those which they consider are lower priorities or with which they disagree, either in principle or because of the way they operate.

Thus your decision is perfectly acceptable but with two caveats: that you should turn down the person politely —refusal need not be accompanied by rudeness — and that it should not be an excuse for avoiding your duty to give to charity. So ensure that what you withheld from that particular collector, you give to a cause of which you do approve..

Should I recite Hallel with the blessings on Yom Ha'atzmaut?

Simon Rocker — Mon, 08 Apr 2013 11:22:57 +0100

Question: Our synagogue has been debating whether it is appropriate to recite Hallel for Yom Ha’atzmaut Day (Israel Independence Day) and if so, whether it should be said with the berachot?

Rabbi Naftali Brawer

Naftali Brawer is the CEO of the Spiritual Capital Foundation.

The Talmud states that Hallel should be recited whenever the Jewish people are rescued from oppression (Pesachim 117a). The founding of the state of Israel in 1948 and the return of Jewish sovereignty and self-determination after two millennia of oppression and persecution was a moment of extraordinary liberation for the Jewish people. It follows, then, that on its anniversary each year it is fitting to recite Hallel.

However, there are a number of sound halachic arguments as to why it should not be recited with a
blessing.

Firstly, according to many halachists a blessing can only be recited if the miracle was experienced by the totality of the Jewish people and in 1948 only a part of the Jewish people were present in the newly founded Jewish state.

Secondly, it is only appropriate to recite a blessing when the miracle being celebrated resulted in total redemption or liberation. This was hardly the case in 1948, when Israel’s Declaration of Independence precipitated the first of numerous wars between Israel and her Arab neighbours.

Thirdly, there is doubt as to which day one should celebrate by reciting Hallel; Yom Ha’atzmaut? November 29 — the date the UN voted to create the Jewish state? Or on the day the War of Independence was won?

For all of these reasons, it is the widespread practice not to recite a blessing on Hallel on Yom Ha’atzmaut.
The question also arises in the literature as to whether one should recite the Shehechiyanu blessing as it is recited on all Jewish festivals, and while there are rabbis who argue that it should be recited, the majority opinion is opposed to its recitation.

This is because Shehechiyanu is primarily recited on festivals on which work is prohibited, unlike Yom Ha’atzmaut on which work is permitted. The exception is the recitation of Shehechiyanu on Chanucah and Purim when work is permitted, but then it is recited not for the festival per se but rather over the unique mitzvot of the day such as lighting the menorah and listening to the Megillah.

Yom Ha’atzma’ut is a day imbued with deep religious significance and should be celebrated accordingly; through prayer and thanksgiving.

Rabbi Jonathan Romain

Jonathan Romain is rabbi at Maidenhead (Reform) Synagogue.

Rabbi Jonathan Romain

Jonathan Romain is rabbi at Maidenhead (Reform) Synagogue.

If you look at most faiths, their festival calendar has been unchanged for centuries. Yet Judaism, for all its insistence on tradition, has also been sufficiently flexible to introduce a new date, Yom Ha’atzmaut, marking Israel’s rebirth. It is a remarkable addition.

It is also recognition that major events which have affected both Jewish history and collective consciousness should not be left standing alone but be integrated into Jewish religious life, lest those events be neglected and, just as importantly, lest religious life becomes stale and irrelevant.

As a religion, we mourn and celebrate together. A key aspect of Judaism is its social nature: whereas, to generalise, Christianity is more concerned with individual salvation, Judaism concentrates on the communal experience. We encourage a minyan for services and most prayers are in the plural. You can daven alone, but it’s better together.

It follows that such a massive part of Jewish life today as Israel should be given full religious expression in synagogue. We may occupy positions on the right or left politically, as do Israelis themselves, but either way Israel is central to Jewish conversation.

It also permeates the liturgy. Whether it be us midweek asking God to turn in mercy towards Jerusalem, or on Shabbat declaring that God restores the Divine presence to Zion, or at Pesach asserting that we will be there next year.

To those, both religious and secular, who argue that Israel was due more to Ben Gurion than Divine providence, the same could be said about the Exodus and Moses, or Chanucah and the Maccabees; but the Jewish way is to marry the efforts of both heaven and earth without worrying too much about percentage points allocation.

For those who marvelled in 1948 at the creation of Israel after 2,000 years of exile, or who were electrified in 1967 when it survived against all odds, or who are amazed today at its creativity in so many fields , the best way to express such pride, relief and admiration (without ignoring the problems) is religiously.

Singing the Hatikvah is fine, but adding the Hallel (an outburst of joy) and its blessings (why be half-hearted and leave them out; it is either a wonder or not) envelops Yom Ha’atzmaut much more fully in the soul of the Jewish people.

Is it permissible to have a child through egg donation?

Mon, 04 Mar 2013 11:38:33 +0000

Question: We have been trying to have a child for several years and, after numerous fertility treatments, have been told that egg donation is our only option. But we are worried that our child will not be accepted as part of the Jewish community. I am halachically Jewish, but the donor is not?

Rabbi Naftali Brawer

Naftali Brawer is the CEO of the Spiritual Capital Foundation.

V The question you raise is one of the most complex in the area of medical halachah and I don’t feel I can do it justice in 400 words. The best I can hope to do is to sketch some of the many issues and concerns relating to it. For a definitive psak (halachic ruling) I refer you to an expert in this field. The Puah institute would be a good place to start, at http://www.puahonline.org/

The axis on which this entire area of Jewish law revolves is the question of who is the mother. There are four possible options; the egg donor, the host/birth mother, both, or neither.

A minority view held by Chief Rabbi Shlomo Goren is that the egg donor /genetic mother is considered the mother. One of the sources upon which he bases this ruling is the Talmud Sanhedrin 91b, which asserts that the soul of the child enters the body at the time of conception and not at birth.

The majority of rabbis, however, are of the opinion that the host/birth mother is considered the mother and they cite a number of halachic and midrashic proofs to this effect. Rabbi Eliezer Waldenberg is of the opinion that a test tube baby has neither a halachic father nor mother, while Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach rules that both women are to be treated as the halachic mother.

What are the practical ramifications of these diverse opinions?

The obvious consequence has to do with the Jewish status of the baby — the question you raise. The simplest way to avoid this dilemma is to find a Jewish egg donor. Yet while this might solve the Jewish status question, there are a host of other questions that arise from having a Jewish egg donor. They include the following. Who are the halachic siblings of this baby and who is she/he permitted to or prohibited from marrying?

From whom does this child inherit? If one of the women is the daughter of a Cohen or Levi, does this child require a pidyon haben (redemption of the firstborn ceremony) if he is firstborn?

I apologise for raising more questions than answers but in this case the questions are crucial not just for yourself but for anyone reading this column who might also be contemplating in-vitro fertilisation. Proper halachic guidance from the outset is essential to help navigate what is already a complex and emotionally fraught experience. May the Almighty bless you with success.

Rabbi Jonathan Romain

Jonathan Romain is rabbi at Maidenhead (Reform) Synagogue.

Any person who reads this and has children of their own should pause to give thanks for the ability that they probably take for granted but which is certainly not guaranteed. We assume there will be a pattern to our lives: we date, get engaged, marry, have children; but your case is typical of many who find that path blocked.

It comes as an enormous shock and attempts to remedy it can be time-consuming, expensive, physically invasive and emotionally exhausting. It can also affect your relationship with each other. So those with children, even difficult ones, should still be giving thanks.

Of course, there are plenty of biblical precedents that indicate the problem is not new, but for each person to whom it happens, it is new. Fortunately you have options that were unavailable to previous generations.

The technical answer regarding egg donation is that the status of the child follows that of the biological mother (who was not Jewish) rather than that of the mother whose womb incubated it.

However, there is no reason why the child, once born, cannot be presented to a Beth Din and awarded Jewish status in his/her own right. I cannot answer for the conditions imposed by an Orthodox court, but the Reform Beth Din will simply want to know that the child will be brought up Jewish, ie with Jewish home practices from birth, formal Jewish education later on (be it at school or cheder) and involvement in communal life.

There are other factors that you need to be consider. One is that you and your husband are fully comfortable with the child only being half yours biologically. This need not be a problem, but should be talked through first. Another option is adoption and thereby give a home to an already existing child. If no Jewish ones are available, the Reform Beth Din would happily award Jewish status to any child brought up with the same conditions above.

In all these instances, your child will grow up with a strong sense of Jewish identity and should feel fully part of the community, while there will be a certificate in a drawer should anyone be rude enough to question it. Judaism sees having children as a good thing, so you are entirely right to pursue such possibilities and you can rely on rabbis to help you.

Should we oppose our son marrying-out or accept his choice of partner?

Mon, 04 Feb 2013 12:47:17 +0000

Question: We are a middle-of-the road Orthodox, shul-going family. My son, who is in his mid-30s, has met a non-Jewish girl he’d like to marry. Although she is willing to let any children be brought up as Jewish, we are still unhappy. Should we try to discourage the relationship or try to make the best of things?

Rabbi Naftali Brawer

Naftali Brawer is the CEO of the Spiritual Capital Foundation.

Do you really think that you can discourage your son from marrying the woman he loves? In all my years as a communal rabbi, I have never once met a parent who was able to discourage a child from marrying out, once the child had set his or her heart on it.

The time for dissuasion and arguments is before the child starts dating non-Jews. At that point you are opposing an idea not a person. Once your child falls in love, it becomes personal and all you will achieve by trying to dissuade him is drive him further away from his family and his faith.

A generation or two ago it was not uncommon for parents in your situation to sit shivah and to behave as if their child had died. At the time this severe practice was justified as a deterrent because on the whole it worked. Today it just does not have the same effect. More importantly, in previous generations a child who chose to marry out was perceived as openly breaking with the Jewish people. For various reasons this is no longer true. Many young Jews today who marry out do not want to stop being Jewish. They continue to identify with their people and many want to raise their children as Jewish. Marrying a non-Jewish (often un-churched) partner is not a rejection of their Jewish faith. Most young Jews who marry out are not exchanging one faith for another. They simply found a partner that they love and with whom they want to spend their lives.

Given that this is the reality, the best thing you could do at this stage is to put aside your understandable disappointment and reach out to your son and his future wife and offer them unconditional love.

From an Orthodox perspective, their children will not be Jewish unless they are born after their mother converts. Conversion is a serious life-changing commitment and it is not something one undertakes lightly. This is a decision that only your daughter-in-law can make and I don’t think you or anyone else for that matter should put any pressure on her to do so.

She may very well chose to convert of her own accord and if she does, as so often the case with converts, she may very well become more religiously knowledgeable and committed than your son, raising his level of Judaism and creating a vibrant Jewish home for your grandchildren.

Rabbi Jonathan Romain

Jonathan Romain is rabbi at Maidenhead (Reform) Synagogue.

Of course you are unhappy. My suspicion is that mention of your son’s age indicates you were wondering whether he would ever marry, while I imagine that even when he was little, you had always assumed that he would marry someone Jewish.

But although you may feel disappointed by the way things have turned out, you need not feel guilty, as he is part of a well-trod pattern in two respects. First, many Jews are marrying at a much later age, seeing no need to settle down early, especially as — with today’s longevity — they may still have 50 years of marriage ahead of them.

Second, many are marrying non-Jews, with the rate being 44 per cent in 1996 and it may well have increased since then. However, this is not necessarily a rejection of either Judaism or family upbringing, but a reflection of today’s tolerant multifaith society. It is almost inevitable that people of different backgrounds who work together during the day will socialise together afterwards and form relationships.

As a parent, you certainly have a right to make your concerns known, although doing it constructively rather than abusively. But as an adult, he also has the right to make his own decision, in which case it is better to accept it with good grace and not alienate both him and his partner. It is not a matter of “giving in” but of playing the long game: keeping the channels of communication open, showing the best of Judaism to your future daughter-in-law, ensuring that they will bring round any grandchildren for Jewish ceremonies and giving them positive Jewish experiences. It need not be a case of him marrying out, but of her marrying in.

You imply that she is not willing to convert, which would have been desirable had she so wished, but you might like to know that 50 per cent of converts convert after marriage, having become immersed in Jewish family life and warmed to it, which is another reason for being welcoming.

But there are other options. If both parents agree, the children can be awarded Jewish status by the Reform Beth Din in their own right without the mother converting, if she undertakes a study course. Alternatively, Liberal synagogues recognise children of one Jewish parent as Jewish providing they have a Jewish home life and education. The Jewish line does not have to end

Do I have a religious duty to support Israel?

Thu, 27 Dec 2012 15:57:17 +0000

Question: I am proud to be Jewish and actively support a number of communal charities but I no longer have any feelings of affinity with the state of Israel. I have been told that is not compatible with being Jewish. But am I religiously obliged to support Israel?

Rabbi Naftali Brawer

Naftali Brawer is the CEO of the Spiritual Capital Foundation.

A century ago you would have been in very good company. Some of the most respected Orthodox rabbis were vehemently opposed to Theodor Herzl’s plan to build a Zionist state and they were accused by leading secular Zionists of not being true to Jewish values.

One leading secular Zionist Max Mandelstaam went so far as to state, in an open letter in the Hebrew language periodical Hamelitz, that “any Jew who is not a Zionist, at least in theory alone, is not a Jew” and that “the Orthodox rabbis who come out against Zionism… are worse than those who abandon Judaism and reject the faith of their fathers.”

These charges elicited an equally strong response from a number of prominent Orthodox rabbis (including Hayim Soloveitchik, Shalom Dov Ber Schneerson and Herman Adler) in the form of a sharply worded pamphlet entitled Ohr Layisharim, in which they accused the secular Zionists of “casting off the yoke of Torah and mitzvot and turning the hearts of Israel away from God”. Furthermore if they were to achieve their aims and settle the land, they would “sully it and make it impure”.

History, however, has moved on and much has changed since the turn of the 19th century. The state of Israel is not a theoretical debate, it is a reality. Six million Jews now live there and their welfare should be of paramount concern to all Jews. In religious terms there are more (state-funded) institutions of Torah study than ever before in Jewish history and religious life thrives in a way that 19th-century rabbis could not have imagined in their wildest dreams. In practical terms, Israel provides refuge to Jews all over the world, which after the Holocaust takes on an entirely new significance that previous generations could not fully appreciate.

This does not mean that the state of Israel is imbued with intrinsic sanctity (as some religious Zionists believe). Nor does it mean that the only place to live a fulfilling Jewish life is in Israel (as most religious Zionists believe.) It does not mean that one must slavishly support the policies of the Israeli government (as some diaspora Jews believe). Nor does it mean that one must conflate Israel with Judaism (the former is but the means, the latter is the end).

It does mean, though, that Israel is central to 21st-century Jews and Judaism. Its vitality and future should be a matter of deep concern to Jews everywhere.

Rabbi Jonathan Romain

Jonathan Romain is rabbi at Maidenhead (Reform) Synagogue.

Hillel’s one sentence summary of Judaism was “What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbour; the rest is commentary” (Shabbat 31a). It is quoted more than any other person’s précis of Jewish teaching because it rightly puts the emphasis on one’s relationships with other people.

We might wish to add belief in God, but then Hillel could respond and say that behaving badly towards others is as much a denial of God as blaspheming against God directly.

But if we marry the two together and accept that Judaism is primarily about actions and belief, then self-evidently your lack of feelings towards a political state the other side of the Mediterranean does not disqualify you from being Jewish. Nor need it stop others from considering you a good Jew.

It is also worth pointing out the unpleasant fact that if, though may it never happen, Israel were to be destroyed, Judaism would carry on, as it did before, and Jews would be no less Jewish.

So you can rest assured that your Jewish status is intact. But perhaps it is also worth considering why so many Jews do feel that supporting Israel is an important part of their Jewish identity.

The land of Israel is the backdrop to much of the Bible. It is the location of many of the festivals (be it historical ones such as Chanucah or season-bound ones like the three harvest festivals). It is the only country where the ancient tongue of Hebrew is an everyday language. It is the home of six million Jews. Its day-to-day existence is a living expression of Jewish life. Intellectually and emotionally, it provides the heartbeat of much of Jewish life elsewhere. Its actions and reputation affect the perception and treatment of Jews worldwide.

That is not to say that everything that Israel does is right or defensible, and, just as with Britain, there can be a big distinction between one’s attitude to the policies of the government of the day and to the country as a whole. Of course, identification with Israel can be taken to extremes. Putting attachment to the land over moral actions is breaking Hillel’s dictum and veers towards blasphemy. Alternatively, British Jews who make Israel their sole mark of Jewish identity and ignore all other aspects of Jewish life are also problematic. Balance is a much under-estimated religious concept, and applies here too.

Are rabbis obliged to keep the confidentiality of Jews who confess to wrongdoing?

Fri, 30 Nov 2012 13:54:30 +0000

Question: I know Catholics observe the secrets of the confessional, but should rabbis be obliged to keep the confidence of Jews who confess to misdemeanours?

Rabbi Naftali Brawer

Naftali Brawer is the CEO of the Spiritual Capital Foundation.

That very much depends on the nature of the misdemeanour. If the individual sinned against God through a religious violation, that must certainly be kept confidential. The Talmud (Yoma 86b) states clearly that one must refrain from confessing such sins before anyone but God and Rashi explains that this is because that publicising such offences is dishonourable to God. This is why, for example, on Yom Kippur the only confessional prayers recited out loud are the formulaic ones in the prayer book. As for the specifics, each individual is expected to confess their own particular sins silently.

In Judaism each person must approach God alone. There are no middlemen. In some respects it makes things easier, or less embarrassing than confessing to one’s priest. Yet, in other respects it is more intense. Given that there is no feedback, one must ensure that the confession and its accompanying resolution not to repeat the offence are as sincere as possible.

If, however, the sin was an offence against one’s fellow man, one is obligated to confess, not to a third party but to the victim (and make restitution if necessary.) The obligation rests entirely on the one who committed the offence.

But there are circumstances when one is obligated to breach confidentiality and that is when the information is crucial to the well-being of an unassuming third party.

Maimonides states that a person who holds back vital information concerning harm about to be perpetrated on another is in violation of the biblical command not to stand idly by the blood of your brother (Leviticus 19:16).

The 20th-century German-Swiss halachist Rabbi Jacob Breish was asked about a situation in which a doctor knew that a young man about to marry was concealing from his bride a fatal illness. The doctor wanted to know whether his obligation was to the young man or the woman. Rabbi Breish, basing his responsum on Maimonides, ruled unequivocally that the doctor is obligated to inform the young woman about her groom’s condition.

The same would apply to a confession. If the information obtained through it can be used to protect others from either material or physical harm, then there is an obligation to share that information. The responsibility to save or protect an unsuspecting third party trumps any considerations regarding confidentiality.

Rabbi Jonathan Romain

Jonathan Romain is rabbi at Maidenhead (Reform) Synagogue.

Catholics can go to church, enter the confession box and unburden themselves of their faults. At its best, it can be a very cathartic experience, allowing people to let go of fears and guilts that were poisoning their lives or hurting their relationships with others.

However, we have exactly the same opportunities through teshuvah — repentance. We may associate it particularly with the High Holy-Days, but it can be done at any time, while wrongs should be confessed as soon as possible and not delayed. In this respect, we believe we have a direct line to God through prayer and do not need a human intermediary.

We also hold that, whereas faults against God, such as a vow that was broken, can be atoned for in this way, sins against others cannot simply be prayed away but need practical action to undo their effect, both personally and materially. Here, we depart from the confession box, for although the priest might encourage someone to own up to their misdemeanour, if the person refuses, the priest will not break confidence, be it for a petty fault or a major crime, and will rely on God to change that person’s heart.

Judaism believes in justice and that means consequences for those who act unjustly, the duty to defend those who have been wronged and the obligation to protect those who might become future victims.

So if someone approached a rabbi and confessed a personal lapse that did not affect others, then there is no reason for the rabbi to break confidence, while doing so would harm the pastoral relationship. That would still apply if the fault concerned others but was on a minor scale (such as a broken promise or intemperate outburst) and the person promised to remedy it. This might also be the case when breaking confidence could be counterproductive, such as an extra-marital affair that was deeply regretted, and the person’s resolve to strengthen their marriage might be undermined by the rabbi revealing it and destroying the other partner’s trust in them.

However, if people were harmed, or could be hurt in future if the person was not either arrested or treated for their condition, the conversation with the rabbi should be to get them to take responsibility for their actions, not avoid it. And if they are not willing to do so themselves, then there is every reason to report them.

Should I wish an old person in mourning A Long Life?

Thu, 01 Nov 2012 14:01:56 +0000

strong> Question: I have often found it strange or uncomfortable to wish mourners “a long life” if they are already old, or unwell, or are relatively young but clearly devastated by the loss of their partner. Are there alternative Jewish greetings that I could use?

Rabbi Naftali Brawer

Naftali Brawer is the CEO of the Spiritual Capital Foundation.

Wishing a mourner long life is a practice unique to Anglo-Jewry. I never encountered this custom before coming to these shores although I found it very helpful. Shivah visits can be awkward under ordinary circumstances and the discomfort is only compounded when the mourning is for a tragic or untimely death. In such situations what can one say?

The traditional phrase “May the Almighty comfort you among the other mourners of Zion and Jerusalem” is a mouthful. It resonates when intoned formally by a rabbi at the conclusion of a service but it lacks the brevity of a more personal greeting.

Wishing someone long life is concise, yet meaningful. It derives from the concern that having suffered a devastating loss, the mourner might not see the point of living. This sense of the meaninglessness of life often resides just below the surface, although at times it can become manifest in most disturbing ways.

I recall visiting an elderly widow who was so devastated by the loss of the love of her life that she refused nourishment. It got so serious that we had to call in professional services. Wishing someone long life is an elegant way of saying “hang in there, you will get through this immense pain and you will live to discover comfort and even joy again”.

Of course, this greeting is not appropriate in all circumstances; only you can be the judge of when to use it, when to substitute another phrase, or when just to remain silent. Jewish law says one should remain silent in the presence of mourners because nothing that can be put into words is adequate to the situation.

While it is difficult to maintain total silence in a shivah house, I think we have gone too far to the other extreme. We now talk incessantly of banalities in a subconscious effort to avoid having to deal with the reality and finality of death.

Sometimes ,when as a communal rabbi visiting a shivah home in an unfamiliar neighbourhood, I would be able to detect the house half a block away by the sounds of chatter and laughter spilling out into the street. This can not be right. King Solomon famously wrote that: “There is a time for every experience under heaven. A time for being born and a time for dying. A time for weeping and a time for laughing.”

Rabbi Jonathan Romain

Jonathan Romain is rabbi at Maidenhead (Reform) Synagogue.

It may be meant well, but wishing long life to someone who has just lost the person they love the most, and who feels that they do not want to carry on without them, can grate on their ears. It also seems banal saying it to a 92- year-old.

On the plus side, it is a well-recognised phrase that transcends the literal meaning of the words, and it is a very useful greeting when you do not know what to say to a bereaved person.

Moreover, if you see them distraught with grief, whatever you utter will sound inadequate your end. For their part, if they feel they are sleep-walking through a nightmare, they may not even register exactly what everyone around them is saying.

It means that, to a great degree, the words themselves do not matter. It is the tenderness of your voice or the kindness in your eyes that will get across the message and say that you are there for them and want to comfort them. So the phrase serves as a cipher for what cannot be expressed fully, but is sincerely felt.

Still, the main object is to be helpful, and so there is no reason why alternative greetings cannot be used if you think they are more appropriate in the circumstances. One option is “I am so sorry to hear about your loss”, while another might be “I wish you much strength”. The only wrong thing is to say nothing at all and leave the person without the warmth of human contact.

Just as important is what you say after the funeral and formal mourning rituals. Do not say “Call me if you need anything” — they won’t — but instead arrange a time for you to come over and help sort clothes or fill in paperwork.

Also avoid saying “Let me know if you’d like me to call round’ — but instead fix a date and get them out of the house, be it shopping, going for a walk, having a coffee, attending a shul event together and helping them slowly re-enter the stream of life.

For their part, mourners should adopt the rule of always saying yes to invitations, even when they do not feel like company; they will still have plenty of time to be alone at other times, while those offers will quickly dry up if they are refused.

Should I forgive my ex-husband who deserted his family?

Thu, 13 Sep 2012 14:34:29 +0100

Question: After my marriage broke up, my ex-husband had little contact with me or my young daughter and never paid the maintenance he was supposed to. Now many years later he has become more religious and wants us to forgive him. But I am not interested, unless he compensates us for the money he owes us.

Rabbi Naftali Brawer

Naftali Brawer is the CEO of the Spiritual Capital Foundation.

You are absolutely right. The Mishnah states that repentance and Yom Kippur atones only for sins committed against God (Yoma 8:9). However, for sins committed against another person there can be no forgiveness until the sinner appeases the wronged party and makes full restitution. Maimonides adds that the wronged party, on receiving restitution, should not withhold forgiveness but rather forgive with a full heart.

The philosopher Emmanuel Levinas explores the deeper meaning of the above mishnah and the talmudic discussion surrounding it. He argues that by asserting that “the offended individual must always be appeased, approached and consoled individually [the Talmud emphasises that] God’s forgiveness… cannot be given if the individual has not been honoured. God is perhaps nothing but this permanent refusal of a history which would come to terms with our private tears.”

Levinas’s point is that the universal order, the great sweep of history — at least from God’s perspective — is not more important than the private tears of an individual. An individual wronged must be appeased.
So your husband must make restitution for the money he withheld from you when you needed it most. It is not enough to just ask for forgiveness. Assuming he does make full restitution, you must then do your very best to leave the past behind and to forgive him with a full heart, difficult as this may be.

If your husband has sincerely become more religious, he will instinctively want to make things right by compensating you. If, however, he refuses to make restitution, it is an indication that his religiosity is superficial. Too often we equate religiosity with the outward appearances of piety such as how one dresses, what one eats (or does not eat) and how often one prays.

These are all important elements in the make-up of a religious person but they are only part of the picture. The other part is often more difficult to observe: how the religious person behaves towards other people. From your question, it is apparent that in the past your husband failed in this regard. However, it is never too late to do teshuvah. If he genuinely wants to live a religious life, he should start by repaying what he owes you.

Rabbi Jonathan Romain

Jonathan Romain is rabbi at Maidenhead (Reform) Synagogue.

It was certainly wrong of him to shirk his duty — and similarly all other ex-spouses who contrive not to pay maintenance. In fact, trebly so: it was wrong to break an agreement, wrong to neglect his own child, and wrong to force you to carry the sole burden of providing for her. You have every right to feel resentful.

It must also be galling for you that it has taken him until now to see the error of his ways — several years too late as far as you are concerned. However, this touches on the complex issue of repentance and how in theory it is great, but in practice it is not always easy and sometimes not welcomed.

It is one of the glories of Judaism that it says: yes, we get things wrong, mess up relationships and let ourselves down; but the past does not have to be an albatross around our necks forever, we can let go and start again, we can have a second chance.

It is a message that comes to the fore at the High Holy Days, but is equally present at any other point in the year. In his case, therefore, his repentance is to be applauded. But it is not enough for the person to repent, two other things must also happen.

First, the repenter must take steps to prove that he is sincere. Words are important and an apology is vital, but some form of practical action is also needed — both to reinforce the change of heart and to compensate for the misdemeanour’s consequences.

Second, the person who has been hurt must accept the repentance. The victim also has to let go, be it of their image of the other person, or of the anger they hold. That can be very hard when people feel that their anger is all they have left to comfort them, yet it is part of the healing process for them too.

For your ex-husband, that action could mean paying the money he promised — be it a lump-sum or setting up a standing order; but if he is genuinely unable to do so, there are other options, such as helping you in whatever way is useful, or spending time with your daughter and re-establishing a relationship with her.
He is obliged to make good what he spoilt, but you are obliged to let him.

Should I make my son go to shul after barmitzvah?

Simon Rocker — Fri, 10 Aug 2012 10:06:03 +0100

Question: My son recently had his barmitzvah but now he feels that since he goes to a Jewish secondary school, he has enough Judaism during the week and no longer wants to go to shul. How do I convince him otherwise?

Rabbi Naftali Brawer

Naftali Brawer is the CEO of the Spiritual Capital Foundation.

There is no such thing as “enough” Judaism. It is an all-encompassing, all-pervading faith that impacts on every aspect of one’s life. Jewish education is not just about teaching skills and knowledge, it is also about conveying a sense of passion and enthusiasm for living Jewishly.
It seems to me that, at least in this regard, your son’s Jewish school is letting him down. Many of our community’s Jewish schools are in reality nothing more than schools for Jews. The distinction is an important one. A Jewish school is one where every aspect of school life, both formal and informal, is pervaded with Judaism.
A school for Jews is one where more attention is given to admitting a Jewish student body and excluding non-Jews than imbuing its students with deep knowledge of, and love for, Judaism. The problem with such “Jewish schools” is that they simply do not allocate enough time in their schedule for Jewish studies.
It does not help that many of the parents who are so desperate to get their children into a Jewish school view time spent on Jewish studies as a nice extra so long as the main focus is on secular studies. Some parents — and I have met them — see Jewish studies as a price they have to pay to have their kids attend a nice, middle-class “Jewish” state-aided school. Unless these schools are prepared to invest serious time and energy in Jewish studies — as do their American counterparts — they will continue to produce graduates who are uninterested in Judaism.
I would certainly have a conversation with your son’s school and put the challenge to them as to why it is that your son is so uninspired Jewishly. You might have to get him extra tuition from an inspiring Jewish teacher outside school hours. You also have to ask yourself if you are giving your son consistent
messages about the importance of Judaism.
Shul-going is but one aspect of living a full Jewish life. If he sees you being selective about which aspects of Judaism you adhere to, he will do the same and his selection may look different to yours. It may be that despite a stellar Jewish education and a strong Jewish home, your son is just not interested in Judaism. It happens. It may be a passing phase or it may last longer.
Don’t turn this into a battle. Try to be encouraging but give him some latitude. No good has ever come from forcing someone to go to shul.

Rabbi Jonathan Romain

Jonathan Romain is rabbi at Maidenhead (Reform) Synagogue.

There may be several different factors behind your son’s response, and they need to be separated.
One is that his reaction — “had my barmitzvah; no need to go to services anymore”— is not uncommon whatever type of school one attends. Boys (and girls, too, in Progressive synagogues ) sometimes feel that they have devoted much effort towards their ceremony, and, like after winning a gold medal at the Olympics, now want a break.
It is also a time of growing up — which can mean flexing one’s independence muscles and showing how one is different from one’s parents — and not going to shul is one way of expressing that for some teenagers.
There is also a built-in dilemma for parents. At bar/batmitzvah, we say that they are on the road to adulthood and must start taking responsibility for their own decisions, but then we object when we do not like those decisions!
Then there is the entirely separate issue of going to a Jewish secondary school. Those who favour them sing their praises, but they also admit that one consequence is that they become communities in their own right — both for the children and their parents — and the hub of social and cultural activities. This can have the effect of lessening the appeal of synagogues, which have never just been about worship but also about education, social life and sense of camaraderie.
Families who might otherwise have been involved in cheder and wider synagogue life now have less incentive to do so when their Jewish needs are largely served by Jewish schools.
One response to your son is to explain why you yourself value shul (I hope you meant to say: he no longer wants to come to shul “with us”), be it tradition or community or being there to support others.
Another approach is to ask the rabbi to put on youth services or discussions that might be more appealing to his age-group. Or get him involved in youth activities, tours and camps.
A final option is not to worry too much. Allow the Jewish boomerang to take its traditional path - going away in the teens and returning later on – for if he is getting Jewish involvement both at school and from home life, then he should remain sufficiently strong in his Jewish identity even if he does not come with you to services for now.

Should I wash my hands after a funeral?

Fri, 06 Jul 2012 12:59:15 +0100

Question: On leaving a Jewish cemetery, I saw a notice instructing me to wash my hands on leaving and was told it was to wash away evil spirits. I can’t believe this could be true, but if it is, what are the evil spirits?(Question)

Rabbi Naftali Brawer

Naftali Brawer is the CEO of the Spiritual Capital Foundation.

The sages of the Talmud clearly believed in evil spirits and demons and so to did many leading rabbis of the Middle Ages, particularly the German pietists known as the Chasidei Ashkenaz (12th -13th centuries) as well as the Kabbalists. This resulted in a whole range of practices to be avoided and rituals to be enacted in the hope of avoiding these dark spirits and the harm they were believed to bring about.

Such practices include not consuming beverages, shelled eggs, peeled onions and garlic that have been left overnight: being careful not to eat or drink an even number of the same food item or beverage in any one meal: as well as various incantations and practices particularly around childbirth.

Many, but not all of these customs have fallen out of practice today and the reason for this is often ascribed to the assertion of Tosafot (Yoma 77b) that evil spirits are no longer prevalent in our societies. Tosafot upholds the integrity of the talmudic sages, on the one hand, by tacitly acknowledging that such forces did once exist, while at the same time freeing future generations from having to accept such notions that clearly conflict with our perception of reality.

Maimonides, however, is more strident in his objections to superstitions. He contends that Judaism stands in opposition to such thinking and that any belief in evil spirits or magic is nothing less than idolatry.
Yet despite Tosafot and Maimonides, there are still many superstitious practices prevalent in certain Jewish circles today, many of which are imports from other cultures and belief systems such as the red string and the hand shaped hamsa amulet.

In terms of washing hands after a funeral, there are those who would interpret this practice as banishing evil spirits and yet there are others who would simply see it as a life-affirming ritual after an encounter with death. Some even have the custom of washing their face as well and reciting the verse from Isaiah 25:8, “He will destroy death forever and the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces.” Then there is the custom, not widely practiced in this country, of not drying one’s hands afterwards. For by drying them, one figuratively wipes away all traces of the funeral ceremony and the memory of the deceased which ought to linger even as life moves on.

Rabbi Jonathan Romain

Jonathan Romain is rabbi at Maidenhead (Reform) Synagogue.

This is an example of a noble idea that has become sullied by superstitious nonsense.

One of the key principles of Judaism is that it celebrates life from several different viewpoints: first, life is good and should be lived to the full; second, we have no real knowledge of what comes afterwards and should not waste too much time speculating about it; third, life is of value in itself, not merely a forerunner of something better to come, and so we should concentrate on the here and now.

For all these reasons, Judaism has maintained a carefully structured approach to death. The emotions involved in a bereavement are given expression through the funeral and mourning rituals, and the sense of grief is allowed to vent itself fully.

However, the grief is also limited. The intensity of the shivah is curtailed to a week only and the month of sheloshim takes over, followed by a year’s worth of do’s and don’ts, and then an annual yarzheit. It is a fast-moving escalator out of loss and back into life.

That is one of the reasons why a Jewish cemetery is located away from a synagogue — whereas Christian ones were placed around the Church itself — to give the message that death has to be acknowledged, but should not envelop everyday living.

The custom of washing hands on leaving a cemetery carries that same thought, and is a personal act by which the person attending the grounds marks the transition from departing the place of death to entering that of life; it is also an attempt mentally to leave behind the realm of the past and re-embrace the present.

Unfortunately, this powerful ritual has become associated with the idea of using water to prevent the spirits of the dead following you from the cemetery. It assumes the existence of dead spirits, reckons they are malign and are frightened away by water; it comes from the same fairy-tale world that helped Dorothy defeat the Wicked Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz.

Similar examples of meaningful Jewish rituals being tarnished by crass re-interpretation might include covering mirrors in the house of mourning lest the dead spirit be reflected in them, or breaking a glass at a wedding to shoo away devils.

So carry on washing your hands as you depart the cemetery, but for the real reasons, not the folk fears