The following is an exposition of an idea quoted in the Daily News (December 25, 2005)
I’ve always found it interesting how Hannukah, a relatively late Rabbinic enactment, has become of the most widely recognized and observed Jewish holidays. To be sure, its proximity to Christmas has helped; Hannukah falls around the most celebrated holiday worldwide and comparisons or connections between the two are understandable. Thanks to an increasingly politically correct climate, Menorahs are often displayed in more ecumenical seasonal displays, further increasing Hannukah’s exposure.
But I would also suggest that it is Hannukah’s intrinsic messages and meanings which inspire countless generations. Compared to other Jewish holidays, the primary themes of Hannukah are not exclusively relevant to religious Jews, but are universally fundamental and basic to the larger population as well.

After years of horrible dating experiences, you finally find The One. She’s (or he’s) pretty, funny, smart, a dynamo in the kitchen, and even with your impossibly high standards, she’s (you get the idea) everything you’re ever been looking for in a spouse.

Well … almost.

As it turns out she doesn’t want to make aliyah. Or vice versa, she does and you really don’t. For some reason, this little detail got overlooked by both of you and/or the shadchan never bothered checking. While there are many factors one considers in dating, aliyah is unique. There are significant halakhic, hashkafic, and practical considerations, and there is little room for compromise. You’re not choosing between city and suburban life, but living in Israel or not living in Israel.

At any rate, you’ve now got a choice to make. Do you marry the girl of your dreams and give up aliyah, or go ahead with your life and take a chance with the dating game for however long it might take?

Naturally, there’s not going to be a definitive answer to the question. But for those who are facing this dilemma, perhaps we can help sort through some of the factors to consider.

Way back in 1999 when I was a senior in YU I worked for both of the major undergradutate publications: as a co-techie/webmaster with Ben for The Commentator and a short-lived editor-in-chief for Hamevaser (alav hashalom). So when Edah organized their first conference, I scored a free press pass to cover the new Modern Orthodoxy for either paper.
I also scored an interview with Rabbi Saul J. Berman himself.
It wasn’t a long interview; Rabbi Berman was extermely busy and preoccupied and the fact that he gave me any time at all was generous on his part. However, while Ben’s analysis got printed in The Commentator, my interview got buried in Hamevaser’s quagmire and was never published.
A recent cleaning of my YUCS account turned up this lost piece of history, still in its Word Perfect format. Since the interview was intented for publication, and it’s not like Hamevaser will do anything about it, I don’t see too much of a problem posting it up here.
And of course, many thanks to Fresh Samantha for the loan of her tape-recorder.¹

Introduction
It should be obvious by now that my take on Judaism is a little bit different than most other people’s. Sometimes I appear to be mahmir (strict), other times meikil (lenient), and other times completely ambivalent. I’m inconsistent to some, mechanical to others. I’ve had people try to throw every possible label at me trying to peg me down into an ideology with which they could identify. Even when I give my typical short answer of read Rambam’s Introduction to Mishnah Torah, I typically get blank stares or people just don’t understand the point.

In truth, I’ve never tried try to fit into most of the religious boxes that people set. I suppose I would be considered “Modern Orthodox,” but there are so many opinions as to what that term means that I do not believe it is terribly useful. I would also avoid using the varying degrees of “frum,” as well as the currently fashionable qualifications of “orthopraxis” or “heterodox.” Rather than rely on the social categorizations of other people, I will try to explain as best as I can what I believe and why. You’re free to call it whatever you’d like.

Personally, I prefer simply, “Shomer Torah.”

Introduction

As mentioned previously (and obvious to many readers), Orthodox Judaism is considered to be religious, traditional, and/or authentic, but there are several gradations and sub-categories within Orthodoxy. There are countless customs, world views, and interpretations such that adequately defining what Orthodox Jews do or believe is nearly impossible.

Of course, this never stopped people from trying.

So in today’s installment of the “Personal Hashkafa” series, I’d like to present my take on the worlds of Orthodox Judaism, with a theory I believe accounts for most if not all phenomenon found in Orthodoxy. Let me just restate that this is my thinking and how it plays into my overall hashkafa. This is not an academic paper – though it could be a fun one if/when I’d ever have the opportunity.

The Role of Custom In Jewish Law

Introduction
Today’s installment is a write-up of my Mahshevet Hazal shiur on Minhagim. The reason why I’m focusing specifically on customs is that most halakhic arguments are based, either implicitly or explicitly on communal practices and preferences. Still working under our assumption that for Orthodox Jews the Oral Law is authoritative, it would make sense to first see how the Torah Shebe’al Peh defines the role of communal norms in the halakhic system.