Answer:

Yes, sex is permitted and even encouraged on Shabbat.

The Talmud is full of positive references to sexual intercourse between married partners on Shabbat. Since Shabbat is a day of rest and enjoyment, Friday night is often considered an optimal time for marital relations. In Bava Kamma 82a, the Gemara says:

One should eat garlic on Shabbat eve. This is due to the fact that garlic enhances sexual potency, and Friday night is an appropriate time for conjugal relations.

Today, Jewish people in many different communities have the practice to set aside time on Shabbat for sexual intimacy. Shabbat is considered a particularly holy time to fulfill the mitzvahs of onah (pleasurable marital relations) and pru ur’vu (be fruitful and multiply). 

Nonetheless, there are some bedroom activities that are avoided on Shabbat due to the prohibition against melacha, or forbidden labor. For example, tying knots or using an electric vibrator are both violations of traditional Shabbat law.

Rabbi Lara Haft Yom-Tov is a Jewish educator based in London.

The post Ask the Expert: Is Sex Permitted on Shabbat? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Answer: What an appropriate question! Even in the days of the Talmud, our rabbis dealt with this issue of danger. In Shabbat 21b, the rabbis explain:

It is a mitzvah to place the Hanukkah lamp at the entrance to one’s house on the outside, so that all can see it. If he lived upstairs, he places it at the window adjacent to the public domain. And in a time of danger, one places the menorah on the table, and that is sufficient to fulfill his obligation.

Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 21b

The law of publicizing the miracle of Hanukkah turned from outward facing — placed next to the public domain — to inward facing, meaning that it was more important for people in the house to see the candles than someone outside in the street to see them. 

Therefore you can certainly light a menorah in a prominent place in the house that will only be seen by those inside the house. I think that it might be important to take the risk and publicize that we are proud Jews, but that is a decision for you to make. 

As far as fulfilling the mitzvah of lighting Hanukkah candles, you are on solid ground doing it inside the house. Some actually prefer to do it inside rather than in the window and will place the menorah on a little table next to the mezuzah in an inner doorway. This custom also originates in the Talmud (Shabbat 22a). 

Happy Hanukkah!

Rabbi Asher Lopatin is the spiritual leader of Kehillat Etz Chaim in Detroit, Michigan.

The post Ask the Expert: What If It’s Not Safe To Display My Menorah? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Dear Jennifer,

I appreciate your desire to convert to Judaism and understand how hard it is to give up what you were raised with. Our childhood memories and practices help make us who we are today, and they can be hard to relinquish. 

There are many points of intersection between Judaism and Christianity, including the values of loving your neighbor as yourself, feeding the hungry, helping those less fortunate and honoring the image of God in all people. But if you choose to convert to Judaism, you will not be able to remain a Christian, mainly because Jewish and Christian theologies are incompatible. Jews believe in one God and most Christians believe in the trinity. 

Jews also don’t believe that Jesus is the messiah. We believe that Jesus was a human being who was a rabbi and a healer. Mainstream Jewish theology does teach that a messiah will come someday, but that this day has not yet arrived. When it comes, there will be peace on earth and justice will prevail. A quick look at the front page of a newspaper shows us that sadly we are quite far from this vision.

Rabbi Daniel Siegel, the founding rabbinic director of ALEPH Canada and the Integral Halachah Institute, notes some additional differences between Judaism and Christianity that would make it hard to embrace both:

Where Christians focus on correct belief, we tend to allow for more options (which Christians also do if we look at all the different churches as part of one whole). Where Protestants at least believe that faith itself is all that’s needed, we tend toward putting beliefs into practice through ritual and ceremonies in order to support our commitment to ethical behavior. And, while Christianity is ‘catholic,’ meaning that a person from any national or ethnic background can become a Christian, Judaism is still tied to a particular people with all the range that comes with (including non-believers, active heretics and so on), which is why becoming Jewish means being adopted into the tribe.

If you still find yourself drawn to Judaism but are unable to renounce your belief in Jesus, I invite you to find a Jewish community where you can participate as a Jewish ally or supporter of the Jewish people. It is a challenging time to be a Jew and having friends helps us feel less isolated. And if you decide that you want to convert to Judaism, without maintaining your Christian beliefs, we welcome you.

Rabbi Amy Grossblatt Pessah is a rabbi, author, spiritual director and mother. She was ordained by Aleph: Alliance for Jewish Renewal and received a master’s degree in Jewish education from Hebrew Union College.

The post Ask the Expert: Can I Convert to Judaism and Still Be Christian? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Dear Michael,

Amongst the best known phrases in Jewish culture is: Baruch atta Adonai, elohenu melech ha’olam. This translates to: “Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, sovereign of the cosmos.” 

This phrase, which concludes in many different ways, is the standard Jewish formula for what is called a brakha, or blessing.

The rabbis devoted considerable attention to blessings. In fact, the very first section of the Talmud, Tractate Berakhot, discusses both the form and content of these liturgies. Jewish blessings have some consistent characteristics: They contain both God’s name and the recognition of God’s sovereignty. They begin in the second person, addressing God directly. And they conclude in the third person, describing God with an epithet. In the Hamotzi blessing recited before eating bread, for example, the conclusion is: “the one who brings forth bread from the earth.”

The blessing formula is a major organizing principle of the siddur, or Jewish prayer book. The Amidah, the most central Jewish liturgy, is a sequence of paragraph-long blessings. And when the siddur makes use of other kinds of prayer texts, such as biblical excerpts, they are often framed by blessings that introduce, consecrate or contextualize them.

But while all blessings might be rightly described as prayers, not all prayers are blessings. Some of the oldest Hebrew prayer forms are lyric poems, such as those found in the Book of Psalms, which variously beseech, bemoan, praise or affirm God’s role in the life of the writer. The Shema, a centerpiece of daily Jewish prayer, consists of three biblical texts and no blessings. The Mourner’s Kaddish likewise contains no blessing formula. The Amidah’s peak moment is known as Kedushah, which moves beyond the human ability to bless God, invoking the angels singing “Holy! Holy! Holy!”

In recent as well as ancient times, many Jews have moved beyond scripted liturgies when they pray. Some utilize the Hasidic practice of hitbodedut, in which the individual speaks aloud, in their own language, directly to God (ideally alone, outdoors, in an unceasing stream of consciousness). Others find the most potent form of prayer to be the repetition of a single phrase, such as ein od milvado (“there is nothing besides God”). And still others move beyond words entirely and pray by singing a niggun, or wordless melody.

While blessings are inarguably a central feature of classical Jewish prayer, they are far from the totality.

Rabbi Kohenet Sarah Bracha Gershuny is a writer, ritualist, musician, healer and teacher.

The post Ask the Expert: What’s the Difference Between Jewish Prayers and Jewish Blessings? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

The middle days of Passover — known in Hebrew a hol hamoed — are a period in which some of the restrictions observed on the first and last days of the holiday (known as yom tov) are relaxed, but the days are still meant to have a festive holiday feel. 

Among the main differences between hol hamoed and yom tov of Passover is that many types of work are permitted, provided they are for the holiday, are enjoyable, or you would incur significant loss otherwise. So many people will return to work during these days rather than take a full week off of work, but if it’s possible to take a vacation without a significant penalty, it makes Passover feel very special. 

Because work is generally discouraged during these days (taking into account the above caveats), the practice among Sephardic Jews and many Ashkenazi Jews is not to wear tefillin during hol hamoed. Some Ashkenazi sources say that you should wear tefillin without reciting a blessing. The practice of my teacher, Rabbi Ahron Soloveichik, was not to wear tefillin during morning prayers (when they are usually worn), but he would wear them during the afternoon service without saying a blessing. My personal feeling is that not wearing tefillin gives hol hamoed a more yom tov feel, so I recommend not wearing them. But whether you do wear them or not, try to be extra strict about making the hol hamoed days feel a little more special. Maybe take an extra day off, or work an hour or two less.

There are also several adjustments made to the daily liturgy during hol hamoed. One of these is that we recite an abridged version of the Hallel prayer, the celebratory selection of psalms recited on most Jewish holidays. We only say half of Hallel because we are sad that the redemption of the Jews from Egypt came at the expense of the Egyptians who drowned in the Sea of Reeds. Another reason is that even though the Jews were freed from slavery, the full redemption of the messianic age has not yet come. We also add a special prayer, Ya’aleh Veyavo, during the morning service, which expresses a yearning for a time of true redemption and peace. And we add the extra Musaf prayer, which commemorates the special sacrifice that was offered in the ancient Temple on Passover. 

We also read several short Torah readings each day of hol hamoed. The readings deal with the laws of the first born and teaching Torah, lending money and caring for the weakest in society, the second set of tablets that were received after the sin of the golden calf, and the second “make-up” Passover first observed in the wilderness. 

There is also a prohibition on getting a haircut on hol hamoed because the rabbis wanted you to get one before the holiday. Many opinions say that you can shave on hol hamoed, but some say you can only do so if you shaved the day before yom tov. The reasoning is similar to the prohibition on haircuts: The rabbis wanted you to enter the holiday looking your best. 

Finally, hol hamoed has an eating requirement. You don’t have to eat matzah, but you are not supposed to fast. In the old days, it was customary to add chicken fat to eggs and onions. I think that custom has long gone from most homes, but food is a way of bringing people together and allowing for joy and friendship.

Rabbi Asher Lopatin is the spiritual leader of Kehillat Etz Chaim in Detroit, Michigan.

The post Ask the Expert: How Do I Celebrate the In-Between Days of Passover? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

–Rachel, Great Neck

Answer: Congratulations on surviving the experience of being harassed by scary women in babushkas, Rachel — it’s part and parcel of visiting the Holy Land these days.

The Evil Eye

The red string bracelets these women are hawking are part of a whole genre of folk traditions having to do with ayin hara, or the evil eye.

Some people believe that tying one of these red strings around your left wrist will ward off bad luck. Others believe that a single woman should wear the string until it falls off naturally, at which point she will meet the person she will end up marrying. Still others connect the string to increased fertility, or to protection from bloodshed in war.

The source of the practice is somewhat murky. The Hasidic rabbi known as the Be’er Moshe (1890-1971), or the Debreczyner Rav, wrote that as a child he saw pious people wearing red strings, but he was never able to find any written sources that explain why they would do so.

Differing Rabbinic Attitudes

Some scholars see a reference to the practice in the Tosefta (Shabbat 7). Among a list of superstitious practices is an ambiguous mention of the custom of either tying a red string or tying a string around something red. This chapter in the Tosefta deals with practices that are prohibited because they are darkhei Emori, which literally means “the practices of the Emorites” (an ancient people), but more broadly refers to customs associated with this idolatrous nation.

When it comes to the string-tying practice one rabbi asserts that it is among the prohibited darkhei Emori, while another rabbi says it is not.

In fact, it’s likely that the red string is not unique to Jewish folk life. In an essay called “The Red String: The Cultural History of a Jewish Folk Symbol,” Elly Teman writes that the practice of wearing a red string “has been widely documented in the historical and ethnographical records of many cultures.” She cites similar traditions in countries ranging from China to Greece to Romania to the Dominican Republic. In nearly every culture where the red string is found, it is claimed to protect against the evil eye and bad luck.

Red Strings Today

Today, many of the people trying to sell red thread bracelets to Jews claim that they have first wrapped the thread seven times around Rachel’s Tomb, in Bethlehem. These red strings are said to carry or encourage some of the characteristics of the biblical Rachel who was known for being generous, beautiful, and compassionate.

In Israel today, red string bracelets can be seen among all sectors of society, from the very religious to the completely secular. No longer limited only to bracelets, some men carry red strings in their wallets, and women who are pregnant, or trying to get pregnant, sometimes wear red strings around their waists. The trend went international, with red strings being worn by everyone from celebrities who bought them from the Kabbalah Centre, to pre-teens who picked them up at Target. (Red string bracelets are also easy to purchase online.)

It’s clear that wearing a red string bracelet to ward off evil is not a practice deeply rooted in Jewish text and tradition, but it seems to have struck a chord in contemporary spiritual circles and is apparently meaningful to many people. While some traditional authorities frown upon the practice, if it’s the kind of thing that speaks to you, go for it. Just remember that, mystical jewelry aside, the best way to keep people from shooting you the evil eye is probably to be a nice person.

The post Red String Bracelets: What’s the Jewish Significance? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Dear Judith,

Many of us have experienced that awkward moment in synagogue when the bar mitzvah boy’s rousing haftarah is met with grand applause by unknowing spectators in the pews. Those who are not familiar with the prohibition of clapping on Shabbat tend to applaud without abandon, while those who know the law either shift uncomfortably or join in knowing that it’s against the rules.   

The earliest mention of the prohibition of clapping on Shabbat and festivals is in the Talmud (Beitzah 36b), which suggests that it is forbidden because the clapper might become so engrossed in the rhythm they might be moved to grab an instrument to play along. And what’s wrong with playing an instrument on the Sabbath? If the instrument breaks, they may forget it is the Sabbath and try to fix it. And that — fixing the instrument — is the actual prohibited activity on Shabbat and festivals. 

Clapping, dancing and even playing music were once permitted on Shabbat when the Temple stood in Jerusalem. Some say the prohibition on music and dancing emerged after the Temple’s destruction. 

Jewish legal authorities have ruled on the prohibition of clapping on the Sabbath and festivals with varying levels of stringency. The Sephardic understanding of the law tends to be more stringent, while the Ashkenazi understanding is more lenient. Some Hasidic sects actually encourage clapping and dancing on the Sabbath, particularly as an accompaniment to ecstatic prayer. In most instances, clapping with a shinui (literally, a “change”), such as hitting the palm of your hand with the back of your hand instead of the more common practice of clapping two palms together, is generally permitted. 

So all that being said, is it ever appropriate to applaud during religious services? If the service is not being held on Shabbat or Yom Tov, there would be no specific prohibition as there is no concern for violating the Sabbath. However, different communities may have their own standards of decorum that don’t perfectly track to the technical requirements of Jewish law. So the best practice is probably to see what the community’s practices are and adjust accordingly.

Rabbi Danielle Upbin is the associate rabbi and prayer leader at Congregation Beth Shalom in Clearwater, Florida. 

The post Ask the Expert: Applauding During Services appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Dear Jim,

Traditionally, mourners recite Kaddish for their parents for 11 months minus a day so that a full 30 days will pass between the conclusion of reciting of saying Kaddish and the elapse of a full year following death. The 11-month rule also applies in a leap year, when there are 13 months. The Jewish year 5784, which corresponds to the Gregorian year running from the fall of 2023 to the fall of 2024, is a leap year. 

The Hebrew date of your father’s death is 18 Av, 5783. That means the 11-month period would conclude on 18 Sivan, 5784, which corresponds to June 24, 2024. Your last day of reciting Kaddish would therefore be the day before: June 23, 2024. Since 5784 is a leap year in the Jewish calendar, there will be two months rather than the normal one between the conclusion of Kaddish and your father’s yahrtzeit on 18 Av, 5784, which corresponds to the Gregorian date August 22, 2024. You can look up these dates through Hebcal’s handy Jewish date converter. 

Jewish law does not stipulate what to do at the completion of Kaddish, but there are many meaningful customs that you can observe, including receiving an aliyah to the Torah, reciting a passage from Pirkei Avot (or another rabbinic text), as well as sharing some personal remarks in the memory of your loved one. There are also other creative rituals you could observe to mark the occasion. 

May your father’s memory be for a blessing.

Rabbi Danielle Upbin is the associate rabbi and prayer leader at Congregation Beth Shalom in Clearwater, Florida. 

The post Ask the Expert: How Do I Know When To Stop Saying Kaddish? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Dear Julie,

Weddings and family tensions go together like a horse and carriage. Isn’t that how the song goes?

Not to make light of a serious question, but I think it’s important to note that family obligations are central to this question. What relationships will be better or worse off if you choose not to go to the wedding? What is your relationship with your brother and what do you want it to be? Questions like these place this challenge in the realm of what our tradition calls shalom bayit — peace in the house. 

But at the heart of most (all?) Jewish dilemmas are the clash of two or more sacred values — in this case, the imperative of shalom bayit and the expectations of Shabbat. That’s the other set of questions that come into play here. What is your relationship with Shabbat? What are the usual practices and choices you make around Shabbat? And maybe — for whom do you feel obligated to keep Shabbat? If you do not have a meaningful or defined Shabbat practice, I would think that your brother’s wedding should pose no issue. But if you do, then you have a clash.

Perhaps not surprisingly, there is a significant body of Jewish text dedicated to the question of what we do when faced with two mitzvot that conflict. Which takes precedence? The sense throughout Jewish tradition is that there is a hierarchy among mitzvot, an organizational framework that can help us make the best choice when it’s not obvious. And while there are exceptions to every rule, the tradition tends to err on the side of interpersonal mitzvot.

While I think I know what my personal answer would be, I cannot answer for you here. What I can offer is a system in which to think about the choice you want to make. So first, as the rabbis might ask as well: Is there a way to compromise? Is there a way to uphold Shabbat and celebrate with your brother at his wedding? That would be the easy answer, so I hope it works for you. 

But if it doesn’t, I will leave you with this teaching: 

It is generally known that the rules of Shabbat may be broken for saving a life, pikuach nefesh. There’s more to this. The rabbis who edited the Babylonian Talmud’s Tractate Shabbat wanted to emphasize their understanding that when these two values conflict — following the rules of Shabbat and helping someone in need (whether or not it saves a life) — we should help the person. We should do it freely. The Tractate started out with strict care and ended up with lovingkindness, with chesed, and with joy.

Mazal tov on your brother’s wedding, whatever you decide.

Rabbi Sari Laufer is the chief engagement officer at Stephen Wise Temple in Los Angeles.

The post Ask the Expert: Can I Attend a Family Wedding on Shabbat? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Dear Dennis,

First of all, my condolences on the passing of your wife. May her memory be a blessing. 

The custom of lighting a memorial candle in memory of the dead is deeply ingrained in Jewish tradition. Candles are commonly lit to mark losses both communal (such as the Holocaust) and personal, like the loss of a parent. The flame reminds us that no life is ever truly lost, only its memory gained.

Candles are customarily lit for the dead on their yahrtzeit, the Hebrew anniversary of their death. While the focus of a yahrtzeit in Jewish law is the recitation of the Mourner’s Kaddish, lighting a memorial candle is a more personal and home-based ritual. And though it is mentioned in some of the Jewish law codes (see Kitzur Shulchan Aruch 221:1), it merely a custom and not binding under Jewish law, which is why no blessing is recited over the lighting. 

While you are certainly not obligated to continue lighting a candle for your in-laws, if you are moved to remember them out of respect for their special relationship to you or mentorship they provided, then by all means light a candle on their yahrtzeit. You might also consider whether or not there are other mourners (such as your wife’s siblings) who are willing to maintain the tradition.

Rabbi Danielle Upbin is the associate rabbi and prayer leader at Congregation Beth Shalom in Clearwater, Florida.

The post Ask the Expert: Should I Light a Yahrtzeit Candle For an In-law? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Although kissing the mezuzah when we enter or leave a space is a much beloved Jewish ritual, it is actually a custom — not a mitzvah, or commandment. There are indications that in ancient times the custom was simply to touch the mezuzah when one passed through a doorway. There’s a famous story in the Talmud (Avodah Zarah 11a) about a man named Onkelos who converted to Judaism and was summoned by the Roman emperor to account for it. But when the emperor’s soldiers came to fetch him, they saw him touch the mezuzah. They asked him why, and when he explained what was inside and what it meant to him, they were so inspired they left him alone.

Maimonides explained that touching the mezuzah is a gesture of mindfulness, helping us to recall the creator and the meaning of life. Four hundred years later, Rabbi Moshe Isserles suggested that touching the mezuzah calls to mind God’s protective power. Indeed, some think that the God name shadai, which is indicated by the Hebrew letter shin inscribed on many mezuzah cases, might be an acronym for shomer dirot yisrael (“guardian of Jewish homes”). However, neither of these authoritative sources mention kissing the mezuzah, so it’s likely that for most of Jewish history, people touched the mezuzah without kissing it at all. 

The practice of kissing the mezuzah is first discussed by the well-known kabbalist Rabbi Isaac Luria, who also suggests a reason for touching it first and then kissing one’s hand: that the holiness of the mezuzah is being transferred to us, not vice versa. This same reasoning applies to the way people commonly kiss the covering of a Torah scroll or other ritual items like tefillin. Rabbi Luria would apparently pray that kissing the mezuzah would ensure that its holiness protected him from the yetzer ha’ra, the evil inclination.

So when we kiss the mezuzah or any other Jewish ritual object, it isn’t just about showing our affection for it. Rather, this marker on our doorposts has a protective power, and when we touch it and then kiss our hands, we are drawing that power towards us.

Kohenet Rabbi Sarah Bracha Gershuny is a writer, ritualist, musician, healer and teacher.

The post Ask the Expert: Kissing the Mezuzah appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Mazal tov on your graduation! Graduating any educational program is an achievement — it involves work, time and expense — and it brings blessings of knowledge, possibility and renewal.

How do we mark an event like this through Jewish ritual? One common suggestion for marking important moments of our lives is to say the blessing known as the Shehecheyanu: “Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe, who has kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to this time.” It’s a blessing with a built-in awareness of time and the calendar cycle: We say it over new fruits, over holiday observances and over moments of renewal. It’s a blessing where we approach God with gratitude, and with the holy awareness that reaching a moment in time is itself a gift.

Although the Shehechiyanu is a common suggestion for celebratory moments, I would like to suggest a different blessing, called, Hatov v’Hameitiv: “Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe, who is good and does good.” Why? The Talmud (Berakhot 54a) tells us:

On rain and on good tidings, we say: Blessed is the One who is good and does good.

On bad news we say: Blessed is the true Judge.

Hatov v’Hameitiv is the blessing we say upon hearing good news. The other one, known as Barukh Dayan HaEmet, is the blessing we say when we hear bad news, such as news of a death.

This pair of blessings makes an important theological claim. It reminds us that the nature of the world is that both good and bad things happen, and that all of this happens in the same world, with one God. Contrary to some religious approaches in which God is credited for good, and evil deities are credited for bad, we Jews affirm that it all comes from God. This is an emotionally mature religiosity.

All of us, in our lives, will have moments when it is appropriate to say, with sadness, “Blessed is the true Judge.” We encounter loss whether we like it or not.

But we also encounter good things in our world — graduations, for example — and these should be celebrated by remembering that the world is full of good, and that God does good things in it.

Shehechiyanu is a blessing about marking time. This is important, and from one perspective, a graduation is a timely event — it comes up every year. Yet a graduation is not just about marking time, it’s also about marking work and celebrating knowledge. It’s appropriate, therefore, to use a blessing that speaks in a more complicated manner about the world:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה׳ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם הַטּוֹב וְהַמֵיטִיב.

Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu melekh ha’olam, hatov ve-hameitiv.

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe, who is good and does good.

Rabbi Eric Woodward is the rabbi of Congregation Beth El-Keser Israel in New Haven, Connecticut.

The post Ask the Expert: Celebrating a Graduation appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Jews are commanded in the Torah to tie fringes, called tzitzit (plural: tzitziyot), onto the corners of their garments. Numbers 15:38 tells the Israelites to “make … fringes on the corners of their garments … let them attach a cord of blue to the fringe at each corner.”

We see these fringes often in Jewish prayer spaces — they are part of a tallit gadol, or prayer shawl, that many adult Jews wear during prayer. We see them in ordinary spaces too, as some Jews wear an undergarment called a tallit katan in order to practice the mitzvah of tzitzit all the time. But most of the tzitzit we see are white, not blue, even though the commandment specifies that one thread be blue. What’s the story here?

The Tosefta in Menachot (9:6) specifies that the blue dye used — called techeilet in Hebrew — must be the product of a certain snail, called the hilazon. The hilazon was a rare and expensive sea creature, and over time most Jews lost access to it. White tzitzit — that is, the natural color of wool — became the norm.

The hilazon is now widely understood to be the murex trunculus snail. Archaeological evidence has been found in Israel indicating use of the snail going back thousands of years. Some Jews have thus begun again to use this rare and expensive dye for threads of their tzitzit.

So why do only a minority of people use the dye of the hilazon in tzitzit today? There are two concerns at play. One is doubt about whether the murex trunculus really is the hilazon — doubt that derives from having lost the thread of that tradition. 

The second is whether the embrace of blue tzitzit might actually express a subtle rejection of centuries of white tzitzit. If white tzitzit were good enough for our ancestors for more than 1,000 years, who are we to innovate? This might seem a bit narrow-minded, but there are some important values involved. For one thing, do we want to subtly impugn the practice of our ancestors? Second, traditions should not be too quickly discarded, even if we think they are no longer suitable. There might be a value in preserving the white tzitzit.

For some, these arguments, though meaningful, are not persuasive. The Torah commands a dye of techeilet, we have such dye — why not use it? Right now, we see Jews living between these two positions. What will the future bring?

Rabbi Eric Woodward is the rabbi of Congregation Beth El-Keser Israel in New Haven, Connecticut.

The post Ask the Expert: Blue Strings On Tzitzit appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Absolutely! Many people who were not given a Jewish name when they were children decide to take one on later in life.

Maybe you already have a name in mind, but if not there are lots of resources online (see here and here). You might choose a name that sounds like, or starts with, the same letter as your secular name. Some prefer a name that honors a loved one or a teacher or a biblical character that you admire. Sometimes, people choose names that say something about them personally. 

In some ways this last category could be the most fun, something that you as an adult are choosing for yourself to reflect a part of your identity you want to claim. I know someone who took the name Faygele, which means “little bird” in Yiddish but was commonly a derogatory term for homosexuals, as a proud reclamation of their sexuality. Another friend took the name Wilde Chaye (“wild animal”), traditionally a term for someone who is out of control, as reclamation of a desirable wildness. 

Once you have chosen your name, the traditional way to adopt it is by using it to be called for an aliyah to the Torah. This gives the community the opportunity to recognize you answering to this name in a holy context. After the aliyah, a special prayer is sometimes recited where the name is affirmed and blessings are called down upon you.

Kohenet Rabbi Sarah Bracha Gershuny is a writer, ritualist, musician, healer and teacher.

The post Ask the Expert: Can I Choose My Own Jewish Name? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

When a Jewish person dies, it is customary to sit shiva, a period of intense mourning during which the immediate family of the deceased typically remains at home and is supported by their community. During this time, many people will pay visits to sit with and comfort the mourners. While we don’t generally bring gifts when we do — and in particular flowers, as this is not a customary practice for Jewish mourning —  there are things you can bring to show your support and concern.

Generally, the focus of a shiva is on honoring the deceased and supporting the mourners, so anything that contributes to that is appreciated. Chief among these is food, especially easy-to-serve items. Families in mourning are not typically in the mood to cook or entertain, and in many communities the practice is to provide food for them. Knowing the family’s dietary restrictions is helpful as not to bombard them with food they will have to pass along or dispose of. 

Many people also make donations to charity in memory of the deceased, and it can be meaningful to bring an acknowledgment of such donations with you to shiva. A simple greeting card with a message of sympathy can also be a thoughtful gesture. But above all, the most important thing to bring is yourself and your compassionate presence. In some houses of mourning, it is traditional practice to enter in silence and not initiate conversation with the mourner. This is one of the few and precious times in Jewish tradition that silence speaks louder than words. Though there is a traditional phrase that is offered to mourners: Hamakom yinachem etchem b’toch she-ar avelei tzion v’Yerushalayim (May God comfort you amongst all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem).

When and if it seems appropriate to speak, I have found in my many years of leading and attending shiva gatherings that offering personal stories about the deceased can be even more powerful than a plate of cookies. A thoughtful, brief story about your personal connection to the deceased, or a meaningful description of how they impacted you, lets the mourners know that the legacy of their loved one lives on beyond their circle of family.

Rabbi Danielle Upbin is the associate rabbi and prayer leader at Congregation Beth Shalom in Clearwater, Florida. 

The post Ask the Expert: Bringing Gifts to Shiva appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

The ethics are complicated and there are reasons to buy, and also refrain from buying, such goods. I can’t give you a one-size-fits-all answer, but I can help you think through some of the issues at play through the lens of Jewish values.

Let’s start by defining what we mean by judaica. Judaica are items that are expressly Jewish. Quite often, we use them to perform mitzvot, such as candlesticks used for lighting Shabbat candles, or a Kiddush cup for saying the ritual blessing over wine. These items help make the behaviors and rhythms of Jewish life possible. It is important to remember that they are often one of several items needed to do a mitzvah. For example, Kiddush is the blessing over wine or grape juice, not over the kiddush cup, which is just used to hold that liquid.

Given that you are writing from Europe, it seems plausible you are wondering specifically about the menorah’s connection to World War II and the Holocaust. There is a chance that the item was stolen, it also could have been abandoned or sold. 

There are various halakhic and ethical ideas to consider when pondering this purchase. Let’s say the item was stolen. Are you permitted to use a stolen item to fulfill a mitzvah? The Babylonian Talmud, in Sukkah 29b-30a, addresses this exact question. There, the rabbis introduce an idea that a mitzvah that is done via transgression (i.e. by using a stolen item) is not actually fulfilled. So if you believe the menorah to be stolen, this would argue against using it yourself.

But what if you believe the menorah was lost? The same talmudic discussion introduces another important concept in Jewish law: hefker, or ownerlessness. If someone loses an item, they  continue to own it, even when it is not in their physical possession. However, according to Jewish law, once they give up on the object — perhaps they believe that they will never be reunited with reading glasses lost at Grand Central Station — they forfeit halakhic ownership and the item becomes hefker.  

Let’s get back to that menorah in the flea market. The menorah that you are seeing is presumably not hefker if it is being sold at a flea market. The seller is (most likely) the current owner. What we cannot easily know, however, is who were the owners before the seller? Before it belonged to that seller, was it hefker? Was it stolen?

The question of previous ownership can be significant, especially because Judaism has a complex system of inheritance laws. However, without knowing who the original owner, or last “proper” owner was, it is difficult to know if there is possibly a valid inheritor. The Holocaust further complicates this, as the owners of many of these items were murdered.

In some cases, archives and museums might be able to help you answer that question. However, many items have unclear history, especially items mass-produced in factories. The movement of an expensive painting is often easier to follow than of a set of mass-produced candlesticks.  And in any case, it’s not practical to do this research at the flea market.

Civil law might also be able to help here. You’re writing from Berlin, Germany, where German civil law applies. The Bürgerliches Gesetzbuch, or BGB — Germany’s civil law code, includes laws on stolen goods. In the case of purchasing a stolen item, if you didn’t know that it was stolen, after 10 years you officially become the owner. However, there is also a law that the statute of limitations for the owner to reclaim the object expires after 30 years. 

The ideas introduced up until now have been more “negative” ideas than “positive” ideas — reasons not to buy that menorah. Let’s examine two reasons that support acquiring the object. The first is redemption. We’re not talking big-idea, end-of-times redemption, rather, redemption of items that were used in the Temple. Items and animals were dedicated to God, at which point they became sacred. However, if an animal developed a blemish, it couldn’t be sacrificed. In such an instance, the animal could be redeemed for money that was sent to the Temple in its place so another animal fit for sacrifice could be purchased.

While we’ve lived for almost 2,000 years without a Temple, we might ask ourselves whether Judaica has inherent sanctity. Many of these items are used in homes, which are considered rabbinically to be reflections of the Temple. Can we justify acquiring the item not to redeem it (i.e. use it for a different, non-sacred purpose) but to use it for a sacred task (i.e. mitzvot)? 

Perhaps! But we cannot always know what an item was previously used for. Items with Hebrew or Yiddish engraving are more easily presumed to be Jewish. However, it is also possible that a pretty set of candlesticks, or even something resembling a menorah, are just decorative home goods that resemble Judaica. A menorah, however, is pretty clearly Judaica, so this is less relevant in your specific case.

One last concept to help you out is the idea of hiddur mitzvah, beautifying the mitzvah. This will help you decide on how much to pay. This idea comes from the Torah (Exodus 15:2) but really comes into its own in the Talmud. In Bava Kamma 9b, the rabbis decide that beautifying a mitzvah is so important, one can spend a third more on the object for the mitzvah than the typical cost. The inclusion of finances is significant here, because you are pondering buying an item. It’s hard to judge what a reasonable amount is for a used menorah. If the price feels a bit high, but still affordable-enough, maybe consider buying it. Some people, of course, feel that spending “too” much money on such an overpriced item might reward the seller, who is possibly selling an item with a sketchy history. However, there is also value in a beautiful menorah being used to fulfill its purpose of publicizing the Hanukkah miracle, rather than sitting unused in some cellar.

Hopefully some of these concepts can help guide you next time you come across flea market Judaica, whether in Europe, Israel, the US or elsewhere.

Paige Harouse is  a graduate student in Germany interested in the nexus of language, memory, and identity.

The post Ask the Expert: Judaica of Uncertain Origins appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Jewish circumcision is known in Hebrew as brit milah, which literally means “covenant of circumcision.” It is a ritual that formally celebrates a child’s entry into the covenant that God made with Abraham in Genesis 17:9-12. Circumcision is itself the “sign” of this covenant. Any baby born to a Jewish mother is considered to be included in this covenant, with or without circumcision. But if a Jewish baby is circumcised in the hospital, does this count as a brit milah? 

It does not.

The first issue is the timing. Brit milah is specifically instructed to occur on the eighth day of a Jewish boy’s life, or as soon thereafter as the newborn is healthy enough to undergo it. Most infant circumcisions in a hospital occur much closer to the time of birth.

But the bigger issue relates to the intention and ritual elements. When a brit milah is performed, it is stated explicitly that the procedure is being done to enact the sign of the covenant. This is reflected in the blessings and other aspects of the ceremony, such as the father formally conveying his responsibility to circumcise his son to a mohel, the person who performs the circumcision itself. It is also customary for the baby to receive his name during the brit milah ceremony, another element that makes it distinct from non-ritual circumcision in a hospital.

If a Jewish baby has been circumcised in hospital, parents may have a separate naming ceremony and ritual welcoming him into the community. To make this a brit milah, it should ideally occur on the eighth day and include hatafat dam brit — a notional “re-circumcision” in which a drop of blood is drawn from the penis and over which the blessing for circumcision is said. The ritual of brit milah is an extremely powerful one, full of love and affirmation of the child’s belonging. Even if your baby has already been circumcised, I would highly recommend experiencing the ritual as well.

Rabbi Sarah Bracha Gershuny is  a writer, ritualist, musician, healer and teacher.

The post Ask the Expert: Circumcision In a Hospital appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Although in many contemporary Jewish communities people are called to the Torah (and otherwise identified) using both parents’ names, you are right to ask why, in more traditional circles, a person is referred to by their father’s name at some times and by their mother’s at others. When is one used, and when the other? And why?

The general rule is that people are referred to using their father’s name. Maybe that’s not surprising given Judaism’s generally patriarchal orientation. Traditionally, the father’s name, or patronymic, is used not only for an aliyah to the Torah, but also in documents for marriage or divorce, and when inscribing a tombstone.

An exception is made when praying for someone’s healing, and some say also for any instance of personal crisis. Since this is more of a custom than a law, there’s no definitive reason for the practice, but there are several possibilities. 

One explanation rests simply on biblical precedent: King David, whose psalms are our most ancient prayers, prays for himself as “son of Your handmaid,” never mentioning his father. We follow in his ways even if we don’t exactly know the reasons for them.

A second line of reasoning is that, at least before the days of DNA testing, a person’s paternity was always somewhat uncertain. So in times of crisis, we identify them by their mother, about whose identity we can be more certain. (Some reject this suggestion because its implications are shameful; in general, we don’t question assumed paternity.) 

A third option is that men are more likely to fall short of piety because more mitzvot are required of them. Thus, invoking a sick person by their mother’s name hopefully connects them with their more meritorious parent.

Personally, I prefer another set of explanations, which emphasize maternal compassion and perhaps even imply that we are calling on God as mother, hoping She will be moved by our suffering as a mother might be. After all, the Hebrew word for compassion, rachamim, echoes the word for womb: rechem. Perhaps in using a person’s matronymic we are praying that the Divine Mother will also act to protect human mothers from the distress of seeing their children unwell or in danger. Our scriptures give us some potent images of maternal distress at their children’s misfortune, perhaps most poignantly Rachel “weeping for her children, who are no more.” (Jeremiah 31) 

All in all, alongside various alternatives, perhaps it simply makes sense to pray for a person’s physical wellbeing in the name of their mother, the person who made the body in question.

Rabbi Sarah Bracha Gershuny is  a writer, ritualist, musician, healer and teacher.

The post Ask the Expert: Mother’s Name Or Father’s Name? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Prior to an Ashkenazi Jewish wedding, it’s common to have a bedeken, a ceremony in which the groom covers the bride’s face with a veil just before the two join together under the chuppah, the marriage canopy. At my own bedeken, Rabbi Leora Kaye shared two scenes from the Book of Genesis. 

The first was the story of Jacob, Rachel and Leah from Genesis 29. A quick refresher: Jacob, fleeing his family of origin because of an incident with his brother Esau, takes refuge in his mother’s ancestral home. Working for his uncle Laban, Jacob falls in love with Laban’s younger daughter Rachel and agrees to work for seven years for the privilege of marrying her. Except Laban is a trickster, and Jacob discovers after the wedding that he actually married Leah. Luckily for him, plural marriage was still a thing in biblical times, and seven years later he was finally allowed to marry Rachel. 

The concept of the bedeken (a Yiddish word derived from the Hebrew for “to check”) is usually connected to this story. Many say the custom was developed to allow the groom to confirm that the bride in front of him is indeed the woman he intends to marry. (Note that the bedeken is purely an Ashkenazi ceremony; it is not common in Sephardi/Mizrachi tradition.)

But as Rabbi Kaye taught me, and as I now teach other couples, the veil goes back to an earlier scene in Genesis when Jacob’s mother Rebecca first encounters her intended. Rebecca too has left her family of origin, but she did not flee. Given the choice to set out on a new life with a man she had yet to meet, she says yes. And in Genesis 24, well before Jacob meets his beloved, we read:

Raising her eyes, Rebecca saw Isaac. She alighted from the camel and said to the servant, “Who is that man walking in the field toward us?” And the servant said, “That is my master.” So she took her veil and covered herself.

Most often read as a sign of modesty, Rabbi Kaye offered me and my husband a different explanation. She said that Rebecca was known for her beauty, and Isaac would be able to see that immediately. But, she reminded us, the work of marriage is falling in love beyond what you can see on the outside. In veiling herself, perhaps Rebecca was asking Isaac to fall in love with her true self, her inner self.

Like many aspects of the wedding ceremony, the custom of veiling ebbs and flows with modern trends. Because it has always been a custom and not a requirement of Jewish law, we see lots of different practices, including some egalitarian ones. Whether you veil or not, I hope you find a way to reflect on its symbolism, and invite your beloved to see your truest self.

Rabbi Sari Laufer is the chief engagement officer at Stephen Wise Temple in Los Angeles.

The post Ask the Expert: Veiled Bride appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

First of all, congratulations on your upcoming adoption.

In Jewish law, a circumcision, or brit milah, is traditionally performed on the eighth day after a male child’s birth, a timeline mandated by the Torah. In Genesis, God establishes circumcision as a sign of the eternal covenant between God and the descendants of Abraham. The text says explicitly: “And throughout the generations, every male among you shall be circumcised at the age of eight days.” (Genesis 17:12)

Given the explicit injunction in the Torah, there is a strong preference to conduct a brit milah on the eighth day of life unless there is a clear medical reason to delay. Even in such a case, you can always plan a Jewish welcoming and naming ceremony for your baby when you return home so you can celebrate the child with your home community. 

However, if the adopted child is born to a non-Jewish mother, there is no obligation to perform a brit milah on the eighth day. When a non-Jewish baby is adopted and later converted to Judaism, the brit milah is performed at the time of the conversion, in conjunction with immersion in a mikveh. If that is the case with your adopted son, there’s no religious reason why a delay of several weeks is inappropriate. But if the delay until conversion lasts for a few months, it’s possible that traditional circumcision methods may no longer be appropriate, so it is worth consulting with an expert for medical advice.

Rabbi Danielle Upbin is the associate rabbi and prayer leader at Congregation Beth Shalom in Clearwater, Florida. 

The post Ask the Expert: Delaying Circumcision appeared first on My Jewish Learning.