If you’re reading this blog, odds are you’ve read something about Jewish Law. You might have seen one of the many codifications such as the Mishnah Torah or Shulhan Aruch. Perhaps you’ve come across a commentary on one of these codes, common ones being the Ramo or Mishnah Berurah. You may have even read published rabbinic teshuvot – responsa addressing specific questions – like Yehaveh Da’at by R. Ovadia Yosef or the Iggros Moshe by R. Moshe Feinstein. Contemporary publishers such as Feldheim or Artscroll compile popular positions of Jewish Law on selected topics. All these works contain Rabbis’ opinions, rulings, and occasionally reasonings for their halakhic decisions. In all of these works, the Rabbinic writers intend to shape Jewish practice – albeit to different degrees depending on the intended audience and the intended effect of their decisions.
If you’ve seen these types of sources, you’re also probably aware that for any given issue, there are multiple opinions. Considering all the halakhic debates, it’s hard enough deciding whom to follow, let alone making a decision for other people. Each posek has his own methodologies for reaching his conclusions, and to fully understand each one requires a complete and detailed study of their individual works. However, all “poskim” share similar challenges in publishing their works. One such challenge is distinguishing normative Jewish Law with statements of public policy.

Amusing article from Reuters: Israel to Soothe Trauma with Marijuana – specifically for soldiers under stress. For a more serious take on drugs in Judaism, read this article by David Novak. As I recall, he demonstrates that most of the arguments in the teshuvot which prohibit taking drugs could equally be applied to smoking and drinking – neither one of which are as explicit prohibited.

Huge thanks to Jacob Sasson for sending me the link to SoftMaza.com. Strange as it might seem, the Sepharadic matzot are not the wholesome crispy goodness most of us are accustomed to. Instead, their matzot might resemble pizza dough’s malleability.¹

Why the difference?

Jewish law defines two types of blessings for grain products: “Hamotzi” for actual bread and “Mezonot” for everything else. Berachot 41b-42a identifies a type of bread called “pat habah b’kisnin” and classifies this as mezonot, not hamotzi – unless one is kove’a seudah establishes a meal, in which case it would be hamotzi as well.

What is this “pat habah b’kisnin“? As always, it depends on whom you ask. Shulhan Aruch 168:7 provides two main definitions. One possibility is that this bread was made with additional flavorings or sweeteners such as honey, sugar, nuts, or fruit juices.² Then there is the opinion of R. Hai Gaon that kisnin refers to bread that is dry and presumably hard.³ Shulhan Aruch rules that the definition follows both opinions.⁴
Following this ruling, the typical “matzah” we all know and love should really be mezonot since it’s dry and hard. R. Ovadia Yosef addresses this issue directly in Yehave Da’at 3:12 and as always, quotes just about every relevant source. He concludes that Sepharadim would tread matzah as mezonot during the year, Ashkenazim would say hamotzi, and both have sources on whom to rely.

At any rate, it does seem odd that the same food would have different classifications at different times of the year. Either matzah should be hamotzi or it should be mezonot! The solution of course, would be to have matzah which is in fact soft, and thus wouldn’t come under the category of pat habah b’kisnin.

Another support for the soft matzah is in the haggadah itself. At the Seder we remember Hillel’s korech sandwich; he would eat the korban pesach (passover sacrifice), the marror (bitter herb) together with the matzah. As my father points out each year at the Seder, the word “Korech” means to “fold.” In order for Hillel to have been able to fold his matzah, it couldn’t have been the hard wafers we see today, but most probably was the soft matzah of the Sepharadim.

I have no idea how the soft matzah gets made, but they do have pictures of the baking process. You can also conveniently order your soft matzot and even get pre-checked rice!

1. No, pizza dough is NOT matzah. Calm down – it’s only an analogy.
2. Though not mentioned by the Shulhan Aruch here, eggs would also be included in this category. This is why many Jews are strict on having “water hallah” for Shabbat as opposed to the more common hallot which are made with eggs.
3. Note that the Star-K follows a stricter interpretation of this criteria, stating that the hardness must be “predicated on the intention of the producer when the product is baked or manufactured.”
4. Rambam (Hilkhot Berakhot 3:9) additionally requires that have the appearance or shape of bread.

Rabbi Adam Mintz of the Lincoln Square Synagogue recently made a questionable statement to the New York Times:

Rabbi Adam Mintz, who describes his congregation of 900 families at the Lincoln Square Synagogue on the Upper West Side as “modern Orthodox” and is president of the New York Board of Rabbis, said he doesn’t think the world will end if a bris is postponed for the sake of the party. “Any mohel will tell you Sunday is the most popular day, and even among the Orthodox, people are choosing the date that’s most popular,” he said. “We have an in-house caterer, so 90 percent have it at the synagogue and 10 percent have it at home.”

This seems to imply that bris may be postponed until Sunday out of convenience. Dr. Manhattan correctly notes that a bris may only be postponed for health reasons. However, Protocols posts an e-mail sent by R. Mintz clarifying his position:

I proceeded to explain to her [interviewer Alex Witchell] when we allow for the delay of brises and the fact that the custom has developed, at least in certain circles in America, to be more flexible when rescheduling a delayed bris. Therefore, Sunday is often the day in which these brises take place.

This is an interesting statement by Rabbi Mintz. Most Orthodox Jews would not think of postponing a bris purely for the sake of the part. However, sometimes the baby is sick, and the bris cannot be performed on the eighth day. In such cases, many people are under the impression that once you’re postponing the bris for health reasons, you can delay the bris until Sunday or a more convenient day.
The seemingly flippant presentation, “he doesn’t think the world will end if a bris is postponed for the sake of the party,” is accurate to some extent. There is a special commandment to have the bris on the eighth day. Once that day passes, the baby must still be circumcised as soon as possible – either by the father, or by the court. However, since there is no “official” time limit, people will not distinguish between a bris performed on the tenth day or a bris performed on any given Sunday.
However, this understandable assumption contradicts Jewish law. If a bris has to be delayed for health reasons, it must be preformed as soon as soon as possible. (See Shulhan Arukh Yoreh Deah 262 :2) The only exception to this rule is that if the earliest time after the eighth day is a Shabbat, the bris is postponed until Sunday.(Rambam Hilkhot Milah 1:9) Time does matter, and a bris should not be delayed any more than it has to be.
Nibling Eli was born with jaundice, and his bris was delayed. Despite the problems coordinating out of state family members, the bris was held in their apartment on the earliest day. And yes, some family members were not able to be there.
Actually, this let to one of the most amusing conversations I had in R. Tendler’s shiur:

Me: We don’t know when the bris will be yet. It depends on the Bilirubin numbers
R. Tendler: What are the Bilirubin numbers?
Me (innocently): Oh, those are the numbers that tell you how much jaundice the kid has.
It is at this time that I’d like to point out that R. Tendler has a PhD in biology, teaches bio in the college, and lectures extensively on medical ethics.
R. Tendler: I know what the Billirubin numbers are, I want to know what the Billirubin numbers are.

At any rate, the bris was performed as soon as we had the doctor’s ok, and everyone seems to be doing fine 6 years later.

Before I get to the shticks this year, I want to write about the dangerous practice of drinking on Purim. Each year, some people overdo it and wind up sick, hospitalized, or worse. The problems are exacerbated by Rabbis who encourage and sometimes force students to drink regardless if the students have the alcohol tolerance or are of the legal drinking age.

On the other hand, the Talmud seemingly requires excessive drinking; in which case, even 13 year olds would be obligated. Lets begin with the relevant passage from Megillah 7b:

This is loosely translated as “Rava said: a man is obligated to get drunk on Purim until he does not know the difference between “cursed Haman” and “blessed Mordechai.” This of course, requires an immense degree of intoxication. Some major halakhic works simply cite this dictum without qualification (Rif 3b, Shulhan Aruch Orach Hayim 795:2). Consequently many take this statement at face value, and therefore drink and encourage others to get inebriated, under the assumption that they are fulfilling a rabbinic commandment.

I’ve found several sources on the web which deal with this issue in one way or another, but I’ve found most of them to be lacking in real analysis. What I will show here is that while this statement might be obligatory, it does not require the degree of drinking which is commonly practiced.

(For readability, I will be sacrificing some precision in translations).

It’s time now for my response to Rabbi Daniel Stein. Sorry for the delays, but I do have schoolwork to do here. I’ve been working on a response that will adequately address R. Stein’s points, while not succumbing to ranting. As comical and entertaining as a Grach-type review would be, I feel that R. Stein’s article deserves a serious analysis and critique.
(Rants may come at the end)

If you were following Protocols a while ago, you might be familiar with Douglass Rushkoff and his recent book Nothing Sacred. I know I’m a little late with this, but there is one point of Rushkoff’s thought which I would like to address.¹ Specifically, Rushkoff suggests a Judaism modeled after a popular software movement which he calls, “Open Source Judaism.” (OSJ)

According to Rushkoff:

An open source religion would work the same way as open source software development: it is not kept secret or mysterious at all. Everyone contributes to the codes we use to comprehend our place in the universe. We allow our religion to evolve based on the active participation of its people. We internalize and engineer Jewish laws and ideas as adults, rather than following them by rote, as children. We come to realize that the writings and ideas of Judaism are not set in stone, but invitations to inquire, challenge, and evolve. Together, as a community, we define Judaism as the ongoing resolution of our individual sensibilities.²

Superficially, OSJ is nothing more than a restatement of Reconstructionism. However, through his analogy to open source software, (OSS) Rushkoff actually offers a different model, one which requires its own analysis.

To understand OSJ, we must first understand the culture it’s supposed to emulate. As its name states, OSS programs’ code is “openly” published and is freely available to the public. This allows users to modify programs to suit their specific needs, add functions to the program, and find bugs or security holes.

However, OSS is more than just a programming model, but it is a culture unto itself. According to the GNU Foundation, OSS is about free software. By “free,” GNU primarily means autonomy. Licenses may not restrict the implementations of a program – a user may run a program in any way s/he sees fit. Users are free to study and modify the code to suit their needs. Although they advocate the ability to redistribute software, GNU insists, “‘Free software’ is a matter of liberty, not price. To understand the concept, you should think of ‘free’ as in ‘free speech,’ not as in ‘free beer.'”

With these freedoms, developers have created stable and secure operating systems, advanced web browsers, powerful graphic manipulators, and absurdly powerful text editors. Developers create projects and publish code on sites like Sourceforge where other programmers may download, test, and debug their programs. Developers, therefore, share their code with an entire community, the totality of which in turn promotes creativity and innovation.³

Since the strength of OSS is its dependence on the community’s voluntary contributions, its anti-model would be Microsoft. All of MS’s software is proprietary and available only through purchase. Normally, we would simply call this “capitalism.” But companies who choose themselves to MS software also commit to MS’s fickle licensing policies and costly forced upgrades.

Furthermore, MS refuses to release its code to the public and is constantly responding to several various security holes. That MS uses their ubiquity to create their own programming standards and blackmail other companies does not endear them to the public. Unlike the communal nature of OSS, MS’s culture dictates that MS is the supreme software vendor, and clients must only go through them.

As Eric S. Raymond writes, the differences between MS and OSS are comparable to a cathedral and a bazaar. The cathedral is hierarchical and monolithic whereas the bazaar is democratic and diverse. This distinction echos various denominations of Judaism which promote individual autonomy over institutional authority.

“Classic” Reconstructionism tries to preserve Jewish culture through evolution, and it operates on a macro-social level. Rushkoff claims that the only constant throughout Jewish history was evolution. Generation after generation modified Jewish theology and practice to better adapt to their world. In order to know the needs of the community, the religion depends on the members to participate and contribute. Furthermore, we allow the individual the freedom to “debug” someone else’s “code” or “hack” it such that it best suits himself. For example, Rushkoff created an Open Source Haggadah where people may contribute their own liturgy or rituals to the community. Individuals may use the exact submissions or further alter them as they deem necessary.

My critiques of Ruskfoff’s model come two different perspectives. As a (former) programmer, I find Rushkoff’s OSS analogy flawed. Although OSS is an open community, it succeeds through extensive quality control and programs are held to some objective standard. A program either works or it doesn’t. Once a program is functional, it may then be optimized for superior speed or resource management, or enhanced security as the case may be. Before a program can be useful to a community, it first must meet certain requirements of functionality and efficiency, and to some extent serve as an improvement over its predecessors. Even an “average” programmer will find it difficult to have his/her project “accepted” by the community. The programs which are assimilated into mainstream usage are most often written by superior developers.

OSJ has no such quality control, nor can it. Religion is not an objective science. But if there are no standards or rules of submissions, then the community has no mechanism of policing itself. If anyone can submit anything, and all submissions are legitimate, then OSJ runs the risk of intellectual hijackings. There is neither a system nor criteria for weeding out garbage. Furthermore, if in fact, everything is acceptable for OSJ, then it becomes tautological and subject to the Pluralism Equation.

I partially agree with Rushkoff’s model. Torah is “open source” in that the texts are accessible to everyone; it is neither in heaven nor across the sea (Deut. 30:12-13) and there is no hidden law. Torah is democratic in the sense that kings and water gatherers are all equally bound by the same laws. However, Rushkoff confuses the technical definition of “open source” with “modification.” In the computer world, OSS implies that the users have rights of modification. However, if one were to rewrite Apache web server such that it becomes a word processor, i.e. the primary function changes, s/he could no longer call it “Apache” – or if he did it would not have the same meaning.

Judaism may also change and evolve, but it must stay within certain parameters. Sages may have the authority of interpretation (Deut. 17:11), but even they are subject to its rules (B. Horayot 2a-b). The Torah is complete (Ps. 19:8) and although we have the free will modify some rituals in Judaism, once any commandment is removed, the system is no longer Torah (Deut. 13:1).

Orthodox Jews might be able to salvage something from Rushkoff’s model by reaffirming some objective standards. Following the OSS analogy, God should be the “project owner” who opens the project to the community. People may contribute but must follow certain rules of submission and modifications. Or to put it succinctly, the Torah’s source is open, but God retains the copyrights.