This past Sunday YU’s newly formed Medical Ethics Society’s held its first annual conference, this one being titled, “Organ Donation: A Matter of Life and Death – A Conference on Organ Donation in Jewish Law.” In general when YU puts on one of these events, the result is positive and this was no exception. The organizers did a fantastic job of setting up the program and managing the flow of the conference, as well as adapting to unforseen scheduling conflicts. The speaker list was very impressive, including a nice range of speakers and topics, but more importantly, everyone spoke surprisingly well. Despite the complexities and nuances of the halakhic and medical issues involved, all speakers were clear, lucid, and articulate making these complicated topics accessibly to a lay audience. I found this to be especially notable in the Roshei Yeshiva R. Willig, R. Schachter, and R. Tendler who were all very well focused on their presentations. The end result was a highly poignant, informative and occasionally entertaining. I was told that there is a plan to have something published for the event, and perhaps the audio of the presentations will find their way on line. Until then, here’s my recap and analysis of the conference including the classic R. Schachter/R. Tendler showdown on the controversial topic of Brain Death.
UPDATE You may also want to check out CuriousJew’s transcription.

In this season of teshuva leading up to the yamim nora’im religious discussions primarily focus on personal change. We look to change our practices, ideally becoming more committed to Torah. We seek to change our religious perspectives, hopefully reconnecting with the Divine. For Rambam, this process of change is not simply behavioral, but existential. As we acknowledge and renounce our transgressions we also take measures demonstrating that we have changed to the point where we “are no longer the same person who committed these actions” (Hilchot Teshuva 2:4).

But what does it mean that we are no longer the same person? How does the process of teshuva effect a change so substantive that it alters our fundamental identity? In order to fully understand this transition we must tackle the philosophical question of what is the true essence of our personal identity – to find the essential determinant which makes us “us” such that changing this element constitutes a meaningful change in our identity. While this challenge may seem daunting to lesser minds, it is no match for the discerning duo of The Incredible Hulk…and an Oxford PhD.

Years ago at the Shabbat table my sister and I used to tease my father’s “selective” memory with the old joke “the memory is the second thing to go.” What made this funny was not the joke itself, but the number of times we were able to successfully elicit the appropriate response of “what’s the first?” Our amusement increased exponentially each time.

Sadly, it seems that I’ve inherited the selective memory gene, or at least as it pertains to my dating life. I first noticed this on a flight to Israel for last pesach. Trying to be friendly, I introduced myself to the person sitting across the aisle only to be reminded (very gracefully I might add) that we went out once about a year and a half earlier. Only after a good 5 minutes of solid thought was I able to recall the date. During that stay in Israel, a friend referenced the fact that I went out with someone with whom she was indirectly connected. This time it took a few days to make the connection and remember that I did in fact go out with that person. A few weeks later I participated in a Hospitality Shabbat in Washington Heights. It turns out I had gone out once with the wife of the hosting couple, but I had no idea who she was until I noticed her maiden name on her diploma.

My memory is generally flaky regarding people. Sometimes I remember a name, other times I can only remember where we met, and often I just remember that I know the other person and can go on naturally. Or I can forget someone’s name but recall some peculiar detail about the person. While I suppose it’s normal to forget people from time to time it does bother me when I cannot reciprocate even basic recognition. It’s especially troubling when I’ve met this person in the context of a date in which the entire purpose is ostensibly to actually get to know the other person.

I don’t think it’s a matter of cognitive dissonance so much as that most dates were, to put it bluntly, wholly forgettable. If a date goes horribly then we have comical stories to tell our friends. While I have my share of those, the majority of dates haven’t been good or bad, they just sort of…were.

I freely admit that it often has to do with my attitude. Given the number od disappointments and inappropriate matches, I can’t really get excited enough to put in the time, money or emotional energy to do something special. But even as dates should just be “getting to know someone,” conversations are generally safe and bland and this too is largely due to personal or ideological incompatibilities (I’ve even had to adopt the policy of avoiding talking Torah on dates). Regardless of the reasons, the results are the same. What should ostensibly be a pleasant outing usually becomes what I tend to call a “Date By Numbers.”

Mind you this doesn’t apply to everyone. Despite the frustrations, the dating process has also introduced me to some incredible and special people, some of whom have become close friends. The point is that some dates have become so perfunctory and meaningless to the point where people are interchangeable.

Even adopting a more selective approach in accepting matches has not reduced the number of pointless excursions.

I’m not going to reduce this to yet another gripe session on Jewish Dating or about how this is just part of a process etc. (Remember, I moderate the comments). Perhaps it’s just natural or inevitable to forget people who haven’t had a lasting personal impact, sort of like most grade school classmates. Even putting in more effort in the date won’t help if the other person is disinterested in reciprocating and you’d likely never see each other again.

Then again on the plus side, it does make the memorable encounters all the more valuable. And who knows, maybe one of those will be special enough that it won’t be one to let go.
Now that would be a first worth remembering.

As word gets around of my proficiency and legality in performing weddings I’ve been getting more questions about the laws of weddings and keeping track of everything which is required. I complied a checklist for the first wedding I officiated and I’ve already needed to forward much of the contents a few times to other people asking similar questions. So once again as a combination of personal convenience and public service, I give to you the Jewish Wedding Checklist.
I’m going to assume that you have the big things like a wedding date, a hall, F.L.O.P.1 (or F.L.O.P.S2 as the case may be) taken care of and I’m going to focus on the aspects relating to the actual marriage ceremony. Note that some of the things will be taken care of by the mesader kiddushin or the caterer/wedding hall. While this should be useful in preparing for the ceremony and knowing what to expect, all halakhic matters should be discussed with your mesader kiddushin.

Most people probably do not consider utilitarian philosopher John Stuart Mill to be any sort of an authority on Judaism. In fact, I doubt Mill himself would have considered himself to be such an expert. But I did find one passage of his which perfectly captures the state of discourse and debate in Orthodox Judaism.

The following paragraphs are from the beginning of Mill’s The Subjection of Women which I proudly bought for $6 at a Barnes and Noble moving sale. Mill’s basic argument is against the automatic social, economic, and political disadvantages imposed on women from birth. As an introduction to his argument, Mill explains the uphill battle he faces in challenging the widely accepted status quo. While his observations are generic enough to be applicable in many other areas (politics, business, academics etc), I’d like to put this in the context particularly in how Orthodox Jews engage matters of religion be it halakhic or theological, and perhaps recalling my own personal hashkafa series.

Note: Although I tried copying verbatim, I apologize for any spelling and punctuation errors. Because Mill has a tendency for run-on sentences, I bolded one particular segment for particular emphasis so as not to get lost in the paragraph.

While there is no shortage of Biblical verses rebuking Benei Yisrael for their various transgressions, one such indictment which seems imprecise and perhaps overly harsh is the comparison with the people of S’dom and ‘Amorah. As we know, the legacy of S’dom and ‘Amorah is one of unmitigated evil and a benchmark for immorality which is used to this day. Their sins were so complete and evil so absolute that Hashem does not simply cause the cities’ destruction, but completely obliterates them with unparalleled divine wrath. And yet in Eicha we are told that “the sins of the daughter of my people is greater than that of S’dom” (Eicha 4:6), and in the Haftara of Hazon the Navi exclaims “Heed the word of Hashem you leaders of S’dom, listen to the words of our God’s Torah you people of ‘Amorah” (Yeshayahu 1:10). Were the sins of the Jews in fact as serious and complete to warrant such comparisons with S’dom and ‘Amorah?

Despite the expectation from its title, Rabbi Herschel Schachter’s recent Beit Yitzchak article “Kuntres B’Inyanei Pesak Halakha” (PDF) does not articulate a system or method of deciding and applying Jewish law. Instead of outlining his views of how pesak works, the article is nearly entirely comprised of sources and anecdotes illustrating the dangers of blindly following observed practices even when they have been approved or enacted by rabbinic authorities. For example in some cases a rabbi could be responding to extenuating circumstances and in a different situation could pasken differently. It is also possible (if not likely) that a person will simply misunderstand or misinterpret the given pesak and thus not be competent to apply that pesak to other cases.

We’ve discussed these concerns in our Perils of Pesak from the perspective of the posek in terms of taking care in formulating responses. Here, R. Schachter passively argues that there is a corresponding responsibility on the recipient or observer of the pesak. Specifically, while non-gedolim are expected to follow the “hachmei ha-mesorah,” the typical Jew is not allowed to apply that pesak or observed practice to other situations since it is likely that a “ba’al ha-bayit” will be missing crucial information or intellectual sophistication to process and apply a gadol‘s pesak on his own.

By itself, this is a completely reasonable position considering how often people misunderstand or misquote Rabbis, but it does raise the question of what should be done. To answer this questions, R. Schachter tacitly argues for an additional level in a rabbinic hierarchy. Towards the conclusion of the first paragraph, R. Schachter refers to Rabba’s statement in (B. Avoda Zara 5b (English) that a person “does not stand/rely on the thoughts of his teacher until after forty years,” meaning it takes forty years to truly understand the methods of one’s teacher. This citation reveals the intention in the article’s first sentence, in which R. Schachter’s refers to his education with R. Soloveitchik “more than forty years ago.” Taking the Talmudic citation and the introductory statement together, R. Schachter establishes himself as one of the few genuine and authoritative interpreters of R. Soloveitchik.1

R. Schachter has previously argued for a restrictive model of halakhic discourse in which only certain individuals are entitled to an opinion. See for example his comments on Yom Tov Sheni:2

If one is a then he is entitled and indeed obligated to research each and every halakhic issue and to follow his own personal view on any matter. But, if one is not higia lehoraah (as the overwhelming majority of people who learned in yeshiva would be classified) then one may not pick and chose arbitrarily from amongst the various opinions of the poskim.

However, R. Schachter does not define exactly who is higi’ah l’hora’ah or how one achieves this status.3 From Kuntres, it is possible he is distinguishing higi’ah l’hora’ah with ba’al mesorah, where one can decide for himself but cannot speak for others, or if the two are in fact synonymous. In either case, pesak must only be made by approved people, but only those with the requisite experience may speak on behalf of the gedolim. I would suggest that for R. Schachter the two must work in tandem, since otherwise anyone who was in the Rav’s shiur 40 years ago would have equal standing for interpreting R. Soloveitchik – a common perception considering how many people claim to speak for R. Soloveitchik.

Practically speaking, R. Schachter’s suggestion further restricts the possibility of personal autonomy in following halakha. Only certain people allowed to go back to the original sources, and everyone else must ask them for halakhic decisions. However, even though one may have a pesak for one case, or observes how someone paskened in another case, one still should not repeat the pesak in other instances, but ostensibly should once again ask for another pesak. In other words, the solution to people not being able to follow the gadol system correctly, is to have an intermediary to explain and apply the gadol’s pesak for us.

While I can understand the pragmatic need for such a position, I think this is ultimately unhelpful since adding the additional rabbinic level simply creates another person to be misunderstood. If there is a risk of misapplying the pesak of a gadol, there is an equal risk of misapplying or misunderstanding the pesak of his student. Furthermore, we would also have to assume that the student does not have an agenda of his own or a desire to see his Rebbe portrayed in a certain light. Again using R. Soloveitchik as an example, there are numerous Rabbis trying to re-create R. Soloveitchik in their own image which requires ignoring or rationalizing certain decisions or behaviors of the Rav which are inconsistent with the student’s perception. For example, one Rabbi remarked at R. Soloveitchik’s funeral that he never saw the Rav reading a secular book. While this may be entirely true, the implication is misleading. Or for another example, despite R. Soloveitchik’s vehement stance against mixed seating, he allowed an uncle of mine to take a non-mehitza pulpit. When I mentioned this to one YU Rosh Yeshiva, the response was, “it couldn’t be – he must have misunderstood.” I cannot comment on who is right here, but the problem is the same regardless. If the gadol is widely accepted (or expected to be accepted), then of course there will be more of a desire to interpret his positions in a particular way to coincide with a student’s own hashkafa.

It would seem to me that the cause of such misapplications of halakha is the very lack of perceived autonomy in the “gadol system” of halakha. We have trained people to simply follow the gedolim, and that is exactly what people are doing. If the problem is that people do not know what they are doing in following the gedolim, then perhaps education in the halakhic nuances of pesak would be a more effective long-term solution.4

1. And by constantly referring to R. Soloveitchik as our teacher (rabbeinu), R. Schachter implies that this authority is sweeping.
2. Hat tip to Shaya for the link.
3. Though it’s clear that he does not consider most smikhas to be sufficient.
4. Or we could change the system, but that is not likely to happen anytime soon.