The Children of Oslo 1993

In 1991, writer/playwrite Shmuel Haspari composed a song 'Horef '73' about children conceived in the wake of the Yom Kippur War who were then being called up for their service in the Israel Defense Forces. The song quietly, but effectively, expressed the bitter disappointment of those who lived through the 1973 war that its leaders had not done enough to 'turn an enemy into a lover' (מאויב לאוהב, a line ironically taken from SY Agnon). The underlying premise was cognitively dissonant idea that the absence of peace in Israel was all Israel's fault. If only we gave the Palestinians what they want, we would have peace. That type of thinking led to the Oslo debacle of 1993.

The original song is here.

Now LATMA (the people who brought you 'We Con the World') have produced an updated version that expresses the feelings of the parents whose sons and daughters reported this year for induction, in the wake of ther hallucinations of Peres and Beilin, Deri and Rabin that if we only give them what they want, they'll strike a deal and make Peace. Turns out that they won't get what they want until we (ie the Jews) are no longer here. (The Hebrew is far more powerful than the English)

Gilad Shalit: Between Scylla and Charybdis

There was no easy way to obtain Gilad Shalit's release, especially since the feckless Olmert-Livni government did nothing to rescue him during the critical first few days after his kidnapping. (Ironically, had he not been kidnapped, he'd have been court martialed for sleeping on guard, which is why he was taken.) As a very perceptive friend of mine noted, Israel should have given Hamas a daily ultimatum: Release Gilad Shalit or we will pulverize 'x' suburb in Gaza. Civilians would be aware of the need to leave, and then we would level it. If he hadn't been released, we should have continued: OK, release Shalit or in twenty minutes the port of Gaza will be destroyed, and so on. No other sovereign country would or could do less.

Olmert, however, did not stand tough. The Israeli government, once again, cared more for its PR image than for the safety of its citizens. Shalit was buried deep with in Gaza. Once that happened, it was only a matter of time that we would have to release unrepentant murderers in return for Shalit.

Personally, I'm torn. As the father of a soldier, I understand and identify with the Shalits. However, I also know that these animals that we are turning loose will murder again. Gilad Shalit will be home, but dozens, God forbid, of others will be thrown into a tail spin of grief from which they will never recover, because we paid this price. We have, once again, displayed weakness in the face of an enemy, who only respects force and fortitude, and who has absolutely no respect for human life.

It's a lose-lose proposition. I hope that the media circus that is about to descend upon us, led by Leftists who will always celebrate anything that makes Israel weaker, will give serious coverage to the renewed grief of parents and children, spouses and siblings who must now see the murderers of their loved ones free and feted by the Palestinians.

Damsels in Distress

The long expected volume, Sefer Tuv Elem, in honor of my teacher, colleague and friend Professor Reuven Roberto Bonfil, has just been published. My article, 'Damsels in Distress,' examines the status of Jewish women in Renaissance Italy as reflected in the responsa of R. Joseph Colon Trabotto (Maharik).

The article may be accessed here .

The TOC and appreciation by David Ruderman article can be downloaded from here.

שלומית בונה סוכה

Who Shall Live and Who Shall Die: Post Yom Kippur Reflections

Yom Kippur 5772 was, for me, a truly profound, uplifting experience. Flanked by my sons, knowing that my daughters were sitting with their mother and grandmother, I was privileged to enwrap myself in its proffered sanctity and internalize the awesome power of the day, what the Rabbis called 'עיצומו של יום.' As the day reached its end and its crescendo at Neilah, I could not help but wish that the moment might never end. My emotions were, admittedly, mixed when the Shofar signaled the Shekhina's departure. And yet, the heightened spiritual awareness with which Yom Kippur vouchsafed us is so intoxicating, so overpowering that I dare to believe that it can accompany me (and everyone else who let it in) through the coming year. מיום כיפורים זה עד יום כיפורים הבא עלינו לטובה.

Here in Eretz Yisrael, Barukh HaShem, the number of Jews for whom the intimate encounter with God on Yom Kippur is important, rises every year. More and more formal and informal observances of the day are sprouting up over the length and breadth of the country. Communities and settlements that were doctrinally allergic to Judaism, know build synagogues, study Torah and reconnect with being Jewish. The papers claim that only 58% of Israeli Jews fast, but those numbers are (in my opinion) inaccurate. The real numbers are more like 70%. Either way, however, the rejudaization of the Holy Land is in full swing. It is, as many have noted, nothing less than a renaissance and Yom Kippur is a touchstone of that rebirth. The Jew's yearning for God, through Torah study and pure spirituality, is alive and well in Israel.

The state of the Exile is, sadly, much less promising.

After the fast, when I logged on to Facebook, I was really shocked and deeply saddened to see just how many of the American Jews with whom I am connected, were totally unaware (or didn't care) that today was Yom Kippur. When I was growing up, we spoke of Three Day a Year Jews. Then there were One Day a Year Jews. Now, it appears, there are many many No Day a Year Jews. I suppose it was inevitable. Through ignorance and intermarriage, acceptance in America and weakened identity, most American Jews will be gone within a generation. Or, they will have created for themselves a patina of attenuated Jewish affiliation that will not long last. The historian in me sees a parallel with the Graeco-Roman diaspora, which largely assimilated away during the First Century CE, when being Jewish ceased to be comfortable because the Jews of Eretz Yisrael kept rebelling against Rome, and Jews felt more comfortable in the academies of Greece than the synagogues of Jerusalem or Alexandria.

There are, of course, counter indications. Efforts at bringing alienated Jews back to Judaism are happily successful, and Orthodox Judaism rightfully prides itself in its achievements. The overall direction, though, is clear. The contrast with developments in Israel, only highlights that fact.

That does not mean that we should, God forbid, give up on any Jew in the Diaspora. However, it reinforces my conviction that any possibility of continued Jewish existence abroad is absolutely dependent upon the strengthening of Judaism in Israel. (Did I hear anyone say: כי מציון תצא תורה?)

One crucial way to do that is to create a credible Modern Orthodoxy in Eretz Yisrael, which will speak to intelligent secular Jews, and sensitively respond to men and women who can no longer relate to the religious koine of either the Religious Zionist or Haredi worlds.

Ultimately, as with our individual fates, so too the destiny of Jewish communities is in God's hands. However, we have a role in this as well.

The Book of Exodus (18, 13) recounts that: 'And it came to pass on the morrow, that Moses sat to judge the people; and the people stood about Moses from the morning unto the evening.' The plain meaning of the verse is that Moses judged the people on the day after his father-in-law Jethro arrived at the Israelite encampment (as described in the previous verses). Rashi, however, asserts that the events described occurred 'on the morrow of Yom Kippur' (מחרת יום הכיפורים).

The Rav זצ"ל observed that, despite the textual difficulty, Rashi's comment contains a profound observation about the manner in which the Jew must go about his business. He must always feel, Rav Soloveitchik said, as if it were the day after Yom Kippur. The heightened spiritual awareness, the glow that remains from immersion in holiness that derives from one's encounter with God, must accompany oneself through the year.

In other words, in order to be Yom Kippur, Yom Kippur must transcend itself and infuse the other 354 days of the year. That lesson is both personal and national. On the personal level, as quotidian superficialities threaten to deaden our God-awareness, we need to hold on to the 'high' of Yom Kippur to prevent being dragged under, once again. One does that through ongoing actions like prayer and study, tzedakah and hesed; a carefully balancing of commandments between oneself and God and between oneself and one's fellow man or woman.

On a national level, that demands that all of us in Israel who were elevated by God's visit during these past ten days must work, through teaching and conduct, to intensify the trend back to Torah and to thereby save not only the Jews of Zion, but those abroad, as well.

Erev Yom Kippur 5772: Holiness Expands

An enigmatic Talmudic passage (Yoma 81b) reads as follows:

Hiyya, the son of Rab, of Difti learned: ‘And you shall afflict your souls in the ninth [day of the month]’. But is one fasting on the ninth? Do we not fast on the tenth? Rather, it comes to indicate that, if one eats and drinks on the ninth, Scripture accounts it to him as if he had fasted on the ninth and the tenth.'

The Netziv (in his commentary to the שאילתות) interprets Hiyya's remarks to mean that Erev Yom Kippur merges with Yom Kippur itself to form one unit. On Erev Yom Kippur, we celebrate the sublime opportunity, nay the incalculable privilege, that God has given us to spend a full day in His Presence, basking in the unmitigated light of the the Shekhina. He offers us this time of intimacy with Him to ask forgiveness for our sins, to reconcile with one another and with Him. We know, deep in our hearts, that God's endless love for us will lead to סליחה, מחילה וכפרה if we only return to Him and set ourselves on the path of Teshuvah. So, the Torah instructs us to celebrate our quality time with God, our anticipated immersion in sanctity and our hoped for forgiveness, in advance of Yom Kippur itself!!

This means that both the ninth and the tenth of Tishrei possess a unique tangible charisma, קדושת היום.

You don't really need Hiyya bar Rav to teach you this truth. All day, as I saw everyone go about their business in the Hills of Judea and in Jerusalem, you could feel the sense of anticipation. 'Yom ha-Qadosh' (as my late father in law referred to Yom Kippur, מיט א ציטער) is upon us. Already tonight, the atmosphere is infused with an aetherial, other worldly feeling. It is the Ninth of Tishrei, and the sanctity of Yom Kippur is steadily descending and intensifying. It will grow, as the country winds down, and stops starting tomorrow night.

Listen carefully. The harbingers of the שכינה are already here. They are in the profound silence outside my window. They are gathering at the Kotel, where thousands of בני עדות המזרח are gathered for their most exalted selihot. The King is coming. The Shekhina is descending. A mixture of anticipation and awe, fear and excitement fill Eretz Yisrael, which is blessed not only with Yom Kippur but with Erev Yom Kippur.

אשרי העם שככה לו. אשרי העם שד' א-לקיו

גמר חתימה טובה לכל בית ישראל

Shanah Tovah

חִזְקוּ וְגִילוּ כִּי שֹׁד גָּמַר

לְצוּר הוֹחִילוּ בְּרִיתוֹ שָׁמַר

לָכֶם וְתַעֲלוּ לְצִיּוֹן

וְאָמַר סֹלּוּ סֹלּוּ מְסִלּוֹתֶיהָ

תָּחֵל שָׁנָה וּבִרְכוֹתֶיהָ

צרכי עמך ישראל מרובין ודעתן קצרה.
יה"ר שתברך את כל עמך ישראל
בשנה טובה ומתוקה, שנת שלום ושלוה
שנת תורה ויראת שמים, שנת בריאות ופרנסה

שנה בה נלך יחד לבית ד' ברינה:

לשנה טובה תיכתבו ותיחתמו לאלתר
בספרן של צדיקים גמורים

מאחלים לכם ולשלכם,
ג'פרי, טובי, אבי, אריאל, חנה, אלישבע ומוריה
וולף

Warmest Best Wishes for a Happy and Healthy New Year
From
Jeffrey, Toby, Avi, Ariel, Chana, Elisheva and Moriah
Woolf

A Cri de Coeur-- Reflections on Selichot

A famous vort, attributed to the Kotzker Rebbe, goes like this:
The Kotzker once emerged from his inner sanctum to find his Hassidim swaying while praying. Angry (but wasn’t he always), he cried out: Der vos shokelt zich, shteht fun veitens. Loosely translated, and sacrificing the sharp homiletic, the Kotzker was saying people who shockel miss the point. One is supposed to tremble ‘inside’ (innervenig), and not merely outside.

I was reminded of that comment during Selihot the past two nights. Technically, they were fine. The hazzan’s pronunciation was exact. The cantillation impeccable. What was missing? Soul, awe, dread, fear, apprehension, kavvanah and elation at the opportunity for Teshuvah. There was absolutely no indication that anyone in the places I davened was aware of Rabbenu Yonah’s statement (Sha’are Teshuvah I, 1):
מן הטובות אשר היטיב השם יתברך עם ברואיו, כי הכין להם הדרך לעלות מתוך
פחת מעשיהם ולנוס מפח פשעיהם, לחשוך נפשם מני שחת ולהשיב מעליהם אפו

What did I see? I saw more of what I see all over Israel and all over the Orthodox World. The pace and the body language of the people cried out: ‘It’s 1233AM (sic!). Let’s get this over with quick. I’ll do exactly what I’m supposed to. If the Shaliah Tzibbur misses a note or uses the wrong nusah, I’ll be the first to send him to Golgotha. However, don’t you dare make me devote more time to this than I need to.’ As we all know, in a different context, Tosefet Shabbat be-yetzi’ato is a sin.

This is the tragedy of much of contemporary Orthodoxy. Halakhic punctilliousness has conquered the field, but in too many places spirituality has been banished. As Professor Haym Soloveitchik concludes in his magisterial essay, ‘Rupture and Reconstruction’: ‘Having lost the touch of His presence, they seek now solace in the pressure of His yoke’ (Tradition, 28(1994), 103).

I have no doubt that he is correct. The state of affairs that he describes, however, is neither sufficient nor acceptable. It leaves observance anemic, at best, and totally stale, at worst. The massive search for spiritual expression that presently characterizes contemporary Orthodoxy of every stripe is a loud protest not against Halakhah, but of the legitimate need to infuse mitzvot with feeling and with God’s Presence. The Rov זצ”ל already foresaw this need. From the late 1950’s on, he consistently complained of having failed, as it were, at developing a sensitized spiritual awareness among many of the same disciples who had mastered the Brisker Method and were capable of dazzling hiddushim in every area of Halakhah. (See, e.g., ‘Al Ahavat ha-Torah u-Ge’ulat Nefesh ha-Dor’ and his oft-cited remarks in his eulogy for Reb Haim Heller, ‘Peletat Sofrim’).

In light of this lugubrious reality, is it any wonder that so many of our children and youth take off their kippot?

There is, however, even more to my deep sense of ennui and despair the past few days after Selihot. Ladies and Gentlemen, we are presently in very serious trouble, both as a people and a religion. Assimilation is an aggressive cancer eating away at the body politic of our nation, both here and abroad. The forces of evil really are planning to destroy us, and are developing the means to do so. As the Psalmist said (Ps. 85, 5): They have said: ‘Come, and let us exterminate them as a nation; that the name of Israel may be remembered no more.’ Throughout the Summer, as we read Sefer Devarim, the words of the Torah had an immediacy and a global relevance that I had never felt before. Particularly during the most recent war, I walked around feeling as if I was living in the midst of Shirat Ha’azinu. From conversations with many, many others, I am not alone in that feeling.

Isn’t that enough reason to cry out from the depths of our souls to God to save us? Is it such an imposition to move ourselves to feel? How long will we sophisticate ourselves to death? After all, Tefillah be-Et Tzarah is the commandment of prayer according to the Ramban, and a special dimension (qiyyum) according to the Rambam ( See Sefer HaMitzvot, Aseh 5 and Hassagot Ha-Ramban and Hil. Tefillah 1, 1 and Kesef Mishneh, ad loc.).

Self-satisfaction is the perpetual malady of the Jew. It is also quite lethal, as we will read on Shabbat Shuvah (Deut. 32, 15): ‘Jeshurun thus became fat and rebelled. You grew fat, thick and gross. [The nation] abandoned the God who made it and spurned the Mighty One who was its support.’ This ailment comes in all shapes and sizes, visiting both ostensibly observant Jews as well as the non-observant.

There are a few days left to prepare for Rosh Hashanah. We should search our souls, unleash our souls, and not just check the size of the shofar and the rate of the stop watch to time the teqi’ot.
Our Lives, and our souls, depend upon it.

[I wrote this five years ago. Tragically, it's still painfully relevant.]

The Real Victims of the Palestine Authority

The world's hypocrisy, especially the hypocrisy of the Jewish and Israeli Left, is best borne out by the Palestinians themselves. No, I'm not referring to the well-dressed, well-fed self-appointed representatives of the PA, the PLO, and Hamas. I'm referring to the simple, working class Palestinian Arab.

You see, as opposed to the Left, I live among Palestinians. Right now, I hired an Aran named Ghattib and his son Ayman, to help us move to a temporary apartment while we renovate our house. The tale he tells us is horrific. They have no medical insurance. They have no medications. They have only fifth class hospitals (as in Bethlehem and Hebron). They used to get a minimum ration of oil and flour. Once the PA goons found out that Ghattib does occasional work for Jews, they cut him off because he must rich. His daughter-in-law has rheumatism and had to travel to Amman for treatment. Ghattib is working overtime to fund her treatment. Why don't you have medical insurance, I asked?

The fatcats in the PA take all the money and build themselves mansions, buy clothes and fancy cars. They leave nothing for us.

This is the state the same fatcats are crying for. I guess it's good for them. For Ghattib, it's an ongoing nightmare.

Forty One Years Later: My, Father, A. Irving Woolf ז"ל

It seems like only yesterday. It was a cold, drizzly Friday morning in Nantasket. I heard my mother ע"ה scream (it was 5:45AM). I ran into her room. She was standing with the phone in her hand. Wit a look of shock and horror on her face she cried: 'Daddy passed away in his sleep!' It was left to me to wake my brothers and tell them the horrible news that would change our lives forever.

It seems like only yesterday, but it happened forty-one years ago. I have often thought that time (on a certain level) stopped for me at that moment. Of course, it didn't really. I was blessed with a heroic, wonderful mother and siblings. I found my עזר כנגדו with whom I had the merit and love that allowed us to build a family based on אהבת ד, אהבת העם ואהבת הארץ. I was privileged to study at the feet of the greatest leaders of my generation, both Torah giants and Leaders in צדקה and חסד.

God has blessed me in so many ways.

Yet, the cold chill of that moment never goes away. Someone is always missing. I miss smiling, fun-loving man who was always there and able to show us how to enjoy life (especially on the spur of the moment. 'Full of Fun' is how a cousin described him). I so wish he'd been here longer for me to learn that lesson, or to just have someone to talk to (as I imagine sons speak to fathers). Not only my life, but that of my children would've been that much better for it. I miss sitting with him in Shul, with his hand lightly on my shoulder. He was an emotionally shy man, who poured his obvious love for us into actions and hesitant words. We played Little League, he was the team manager. We were in Cub Scouts, he was the Packmaster....You get the idea.

But, oh, if I could I could only summon up the memory of his voice.

He was such a good, kind man. Like every good man, he told none of us of the many many acts of חסד that he performed. We only heard about many of them during the Shiva and after. Perhaps the greatest tribute to him was the large contingent of Blacks who he had helped to buy their own homes who came to the funeral and, one by one before the service, came forward to kiss the casket. (A ringing denial of a nefarious, agenda-ridden history of the times.)

Forty One years, only yesterday and lifetime ago.

Maybe this year I'll learn to embody the lessons of his short life to a greater degree. That would restart the clock.

יהי זכרו ברוך.