Orot Shalhevet - Tishrei 2022 | 5783

COVER ART BY

MOLLY MENASHE SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘23

Welcome to Orot Shalhevet

RABBI DAVID BLOCK HEAD OF SCHOOL

Dear Shalhevet Community,

Many of us know what we believe in. What we stand for. What our values are. But how many of us keep those values front and center, always? How many of us see the world - in all its brilliant complexity - through the lens of those beliefs? I don’t ask judgmentally. There’s a reason we often don’t: It’s hard. Such a perspective takes constant focus, piercing honesty, and unwavering compromise. So, naturally, our minds – and our actions – drift.

There’s a term for this in halacha. Some mitzvos require constant focus, and when our minds drift, we call that interruption “hesech hada’as.” It is not a lack of knowledge or forgetfulness, but simply the absence of active focus in a particular moment. It is hesech hada’as, R. Aharon Lichtenstein suggests, that is the struggle of the Elul and Tishrei seasons. Teshuva (repentance) is not just about “fixing” our myriads of sins; more fundamentally, it is about rectifying our general hesech hada’as, our lack of constant focus on Hashem, Torah, and Divine values that should permeate every facet of our lives.

There’s a perplexing opinion in tractate Pesachim (34a) that challenges our usual understanding of hesech hada’as.

Terumah (food for the Kohanim, priests) demands constant attention until it is eaten. If one becomes distracted or one’s attention is interrupted, the terumah is disqualified from being eaten. The question is, why? Why is the terumah rendered unacceptable if one shifts one’s focus away from it even temporarily? R. Yochanan explains it pragmatically: We have to be concerned that, when it was not watched, the terumah became impure, which would render it disqualified. Reish Lakish, however, suggests a fascinating alternative: The unwatched terumah is disqualified simply because it was unwatched. The hesech hada’as, the lack of active attention, somehow defiles the item itself.

R. Aharon suggests that Reish Lakish’s opinion may actually have relevance beyond the halachot of terumah.

According to Reish Lakish, when we do not actively focus on our relationship with Hashem, it does not impact upon that relationship alone; rather, it may impact upon God’s presence in the world itself. The presence of God’s shechinah in this world is determined by whether we bring it here. And the way we will be able to integrate the shechinah into our lives and the world we live in is by keeping Hashem and Hashem’s values front and center; to allow Hashem to guide us in all that we do. If we were to have hesech hada’as, it would undermine our core responsibility in its entirety.

Part of what makes Shalhevet unique is that we do not just teach or talk about Hashem; Hashem’s values animate every decision, every lesson, every action. Our students learn what it means to live with Hashem. Orot Shalhevet is one of the ways in which we share that holiness beyond our walls and bring Hashem more consistently into our lives.

Wherever you are for the chagim, take Orot Shalhevet with you and share the kedusha with others. It is my bracha that the varied and unique voices of our faculty, students, and alumni infuse our holidays with meaning, and that the stunning student artwork serve as a hiddur mitzvah (beautification of the Torah within). As I always note, the teachers, students, and alumni are all the Orot (lights) that come together to form our dazzling Shalhevet (flame).

Shanah Tova, Rabbi David Block

EVAN RUBEL

THE ALLURE OF PERFECTION – FINDING MEANING IN JUDAISM PAGE 3

DR. SHEILA TULLER KEITER OPENING YOUR HEART ON YOM KIPPUR PAGE 5

RAV YITZCHAK ETSHALOM RABBI ELI BRONER

THE STILL SMALL VOICE PAGE 7

TISHREI IS OVER: NOW WHAT? PAGE 9

MS. CHANI LIBERMAN THE CONNECTION BETWEEN YOM KIPPUR AND CHESED PAGE 11

MOLLY MENASHE

SARAH AND THE BANISHMENT OF YISHMAEL: A NEW UNDERSTANDING PAGE 13

MS. ARIELLA ETSHALOM

CONSISTENTLY INCONSISTENT: USING TEFILLAH TO KEEP US GROUNDED PAGE 15

RABBI ARI SCHWARZBERG

DON'T FAKE YOUR FAITH: SEFER YONAH AS A GUIDE TO THE ‫ימים נוראים‬ PAGE 17

RABBI DEREK GORMIN ZEV KUPFERMAN

STARCHED COLLARS PAGE 19

THE TRUE JOY: APPRECIATING THE UNIQUENESS OF THE SIMCHAT BEIT HASHOEVAH PAGE 21

thank you TO THE FOLLOWING SUPPORTERS WHO HAVE GENEROUSLY SPONSORED THIS EDITION OF OROT

SHALHEVET. WE ARE GRATEFUL TO THEM FOR HELPING TO PROMOTE THE SPREAD OF MEANINGFUL TORAH LEARNING AND SPIRITUAL GROWTH IN OUR COMMUNITY. PLEASE ENJOY THE TORAH YOU WILL FIND WITHIN IN THEIR MERIT.

KAREN AND AVI ASHKENAZI HADAR AND MICAH COHEN MAYA AND NEIL COHEN SANDRA AND MARK GAMSON SHARON AND ALAN GOMPERTS PAMELA AND AVI GOOR CARA AND ZEV GROSSMAN MIRIAM HELLER HEATHER AND JOEL JACOBSON MICKEY AND HAIM KAHTAN JOSH AND MALKA KATZIN STACY AND RANON KENT DANIELLE AND STEVEN KUPFERMAN PAUL AND MICHELLE LERNER

LAUREN AND DAVID LUNZER SHIRA AND JOSEPH NAVON DEBI POMERANTZ AND MICHAEL MENDELSON ROBIN SCHAFFRAN AND RONNIE EISEN GABRIELA AND JONATHAN SCHWARTZ NAOMI AND RABBI ARI SCHWARZBERG NAOMI AND JEFF SELICK ALISA AND ROY SHAKED DRS. TAALY AND ADAM SILBERSTEIN SANAM AND ASHKAN SOLEYMANI DR. TALYA AND RABBI DAVID STEIN DR. MIRIAM AND JONATHAN STERN LAURA WASSERMAN AND MICHAEL STEUER LESLEE AND ALEX SZTUDEN

Shalhevet Class of ‘20 EVAN RUBEL

EVAN RUBEL (’20) IS A JUNIOR STUDYING ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING AND COMPUTER SCIENCE AT MIT. HE LOOKS BACK FONDLY ON HIS TIME AT SHALHEVET AND IS PROUD TO BE A FIREHAWK.

The Allure of Perfection –

FINDING MEANING IN JUDAISM Judaism is more than a collection of religious texts, legal principles, and rituals; Judaism is a guide for daily life. However, it may prove challenging to find clear purpose in such a complex religious system. Throughout the millennia, the Torah and mesorah (Jewish tradition) have provided us with a roadmap setting out how we can strive for kedushah (holiness) and find meaning in our world. But, how practically can we accomplish this? We will outline a number of different ways through which one can strive to achieve this goal.

One manner involves attempting to unravel the infinite mystery that is Hashem. When an individual encounters an existential crisis, this may catalyze a search for religious meaning, leading to a closer connection to Hashem — Sefer Kohelet provides an apt example here. In the text, Kohelet himself endures an existential crisis. At first, Kohelet seems to have a paradoxical worldview; he writes enigmatically about the purpose of life and fails to find meaning or order in the world. Despite his struggle, Kohelet does eventually reach the following conclusion: “The end of the matter, everything having been heard, fear Hashem and keep His commandments, for this is the entire man” (Kohelet 12:13). At this point, Kohelet has internalized the contemplation of Hashem in his life.

Rabbi Hayyim Angel (Revealed Texts, Hidden Meanings: Finding the Religious Significance of the Tanakh, p.197) argues that, while the universalist nature of the text makes Kohelet’s struggle relevant to every person, the religious nature of the text (as evidenced by its place in Tanach) makes the struggle that much more profound. The issues with which Kohelet grapples are necessary steps in his journey to finding meaning. Kohelet also demonstrates that significant religious value emerges from this struggle; namely, this struggle transforms one’s understanding of Hashem’s will (something that is, by definition, incomprehensible), quantifies it, and associates it with deep religious meaning. If there were no struggle, then there would be no way for an individual to attempt to understand the nature of Hashem’s will and find religious meaning.

The struggle, ultimately, empowers an individual to recognize their humanity and develop a greater reverence for the infinite nature of Hashem. With this, they can come full circle and begin to find shards of meaning in their life.

Developing one’s intellectual, moral, and imaginative faculties is yet another way in which one can strive to find meaning.

In his Guide for the Perplexed, the Rambam offers three perspectives on biblical prophecy, a mode of striving for spiritual perfection. His first perspective on prophecy is most consistent with the traditional reading of prophecy in Tanach – an individual with good inclinations receives nevuah (prophecy) and relays it to their peers. While straightforward, Rambam’s first perspective is not altogether intellectually satisfying. His second and third perspectives, rather, highlight an important aspect of this particular mode of striving for spiritual perfection — the role of human initiative and the ensuing search for meaning. The Rambam writes that nevuah requires the necessary intellectual and imaginative faculties on the part of humanity, not just Divine whim (Guide for the Perplexed, translation M. Friedlander, Chapter XXXII). Nevuah increases an individual’s depth of religious understanding; the individual will seek to understand more about Hashem and the world around them, again furthering their search for meaning.

The mitzvot themselves act as mechanisms through which we can find meaning as well. In their pursuit of truth, individuals will be motivated to not only find holiness in the realm of bein adam l’Makom (between man and Hashem) but also in the realm of bein adam l’chaveiro (between man and his fellow), thereby embellishing their moral and 3

imaginative faculties further. One can develop their deveikut (lit. clinging to Hashem) by working on their interpersonal relationships and the connections to their community — the Gemara (Sotah 14a) states that greater deveikut can emerge through mitzvot bein adam l’chaveiro (e.g., visiting the sick and consoling the mourners). Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein adds that “one should strive to reach the level where he can translate God’s will into his own” (By His Light: Character and Values in the Service of God, pp. 58-60). Yet, an individual who has risen to near-perfection in the sphere of performing mitzvot and observing Halacha will never truly accept any exterior label of perfection as they will only be driven to uncover more of the mysteries of Hashem. This cycle will continue on as their search for meaning continues.

At first glance, it may seem that only a select group of people are capable of truly appreciating nevuah or aiming for spiritual perfection. Every person can be motivated to “perfect” themselves – and they can do so by finding holiness in their own lives, reaching farther across the “infinite gulf ” (Revealed Texts, Hidden Meanings, p. 201).

The themes of godliness and attaining perfection are especially pertinent during the holiday season of Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot. As we attempt to return to Hashem through introspection and repentance on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, and, as we read Kohelet on Sukkot, let us try to internalize the methods of modeling godliness discussed above, even if we will not be receiving prophecy in the near future. Striving for perfection is the allure of Judaism, but — with a desire for closeness to Hashem — in conjunction with the innate motivation for perfection, perhaps we can come just a little bit closer to achieving this goal as much as humanly possible.

MAI SULTAN

SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘24

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Limudei Kodesh Faculty

DR. SHEILA TULLER KEITER DR. SHEILA KEITER IS A MEMBER OF THE LIMUDEI KODESH FACULTY AT SHALHEVET. SHE HAS A B.A. IN HISTORY FROM UCLA, A JD FROM HARVARD LAW SCHOOL, AND RECEIVED HER PHD IN JEWISH STUDIES FROM UCLA, WHERE SHE TAUGHT IN THE DEPARTMENT OF NEAR EASTERN LANGUAGES AND CULTURES.

Opening Your Heart

ON YOM KIPPUR

One of the most evocative images in the Yom Kippur liturgy, one that recurs multiple times throughout the holiday as well in the Selichot, is the idea of circumcision of the heart. Over and over, we call upon Hashem: ‫מול את לבבינו‬, “circumcise our hearts.” We are all familiar with male circumcision in the context of brit milah, but circumcision of the heart is a completely different matter. The prayers are not discussing cardiac bypass surgery; the expression is clearly metaphoric.

The concept of circumcising the heart first appears in sefer Devarim. In parashat Eikev, Moshe implores the people of Israel to fear and love Hashem and to keep His commandments. Moshe then exhorts them: (‫טז‬:‫ )דברים י‬:‫ומלתם את ערלת לבבכם וערפכם לא תקשו עוד‬ “And circumcise the foreskin of your hearts, and do not stiffen your necks further” (Deut. 10:16).

Similar language appears in parashat Nitzavim. There, Moshe describes a time of future redemption when Hashem will gather in the exiles and reestablish them in the land. In addition: (‫ו‬:‫ )דברים ל‬:‫נפשך למען חייך‬-‫לבבך ובכל‬-‫ה' אלקיך בכל‬-‫לבב זרעך לאהבה את‬-‫לבבך ואת‬-‫ומל ה' אלקיך את‬ “And Hashem your God will circumcise your heart and the heart of your descendants to love Hashem your God with all your heart and with all your soul so that you will live” (Deut. 30:6).

We know that the circumcision of brit milah means the removal of the foreskin. The term for foreskin is ‫ערלה‬, orlah. But orlah has other meanings as well. We see orlah as used in the first of the pesukim above referring to the foreskin of the heart. The first fruits produced by a newly planted tree are forbidden for the first three years (Lev. 19:23). These restricted fruits are also known as orlah. In addition, we see the term ‫ערל‬, arel, uncircumcised, used in the episode of the burning bush. Moshe protests that he is unfit to lead because he is ‫ערל שפתים‬, aral sifatayim, of uncircumcised lips (Ex. 7:12,30).

In sefer Yirmiyahu, Hashem complains that the people do not listen to him because ‫ערלה אזנם‬, arelah oznam, “their ear is uncircumcised” (Jer. 6:10).

By now you should be able to discern that orlah refers to things that cover or obstruct, most literally in the context of male circumcision, but metaphorically in our other examples. Orlah fruit blocks the farmer from deriving benefit from the tree’s produce. Moshe’s uncircumcised lips obstruct his words from flowing fluently. The people’s uncircumcised ear blocks their ability to hear God’s words.

We can now bring this concept back to the idea of circumcising the heart. The classic commentators understand this in three different ways, one intellectual, one psychological, and one spiritual. In the ancient world and through the Middle Ages, the heart often represented the center of thought, the way we think of the mind today. Thus, when Moshe urges Israel to circumcise their hearts, he is essentially asking them to open their minds. As Ramban puts it, “So that your heart will be open to know the truth” (Ramban, Deut. 10:16).

From this perspective, when we ask Hashem on Yom Kippur to circumcise our hearts, we are asking for intellectual 5

clarity. If we can fully understand the truth, the true nature of God, the true purpose of the commandments, the truth behind our motivations, the true consequences of our behaviors, we will be far less likely to sin. On Yom Kippur, we acknowledge our failings and ask Hashem for the discernment we need to avoid those pitfalls in the future. In practical terms, this means approaching our behaviors with greater consciousness. Think before you act.

The second approach is the psychological one. Although biologically, the psychological center of our drives and desires is in our minds, we often speak of the heart as being the source of our urges and impulses. Thus, Ibn Ezra can speak of circumcising the heart “to distance yourselves from the desires that are thick and heavy like orlah” (Ibn Ezra, Deut.

10:16). In other words, the heart, the center of our drives, leads us to sin because it is prone to self-gratifying desires.

On Yom Kippur, we are asking Hashem to mitigate the power of those desires and remove their pull on our hearts.

Perhaps we can envision this as a request that Hashem strengthen our yetzer hatov, our good inclination, and weaken our yetzer hara, our evil inclination. In truth, we are the ultimate agents of our own moral decisions. We decide whether to exert self-control or give in to temptation, and thus, we are responsible for our actions. However, we can certainly seek God’s help in strengthening our resolve and inner strength.

Finally, the mephorshim view this concept in spiritual terms. Recall that in the second pasuk we examined from sefer Devarim, Moshe uses the imagery of circumcising the heart as a feature of a future redemption. In that time, Hashem will circumcise our hearts so that we will love Him wholeheartedly. Ramban describes this dynamic thusly: …From the time of creation, humanity had the freedom to act according to its will, righteously or evilly. And it is so all the time of the Torah, so that they will have merit when they choose good and punishment when their will is to evil. However, in the time of the Messiah, the choice for good will be natural to them. Their heart will not desire that which is not worthy, and it will not crave it at all.

(Ramban, Deut. 30:6).

While still dealing with the idea of orlah as temptation that weighs upon the heart, Ramban views a messianic future where evil desires will no longer plague humanity.

From this perspective, our repeated prayer on Yom Kippur that Hashem circumcise our hearts calls upon Him to usher in the long-hoped-for redemption. This is an aspirational goal. In praying for spiritual redemption, we hope for a world no longer ravaged by evil. As long as we can envision this messianic ideal, we can do our best to conduct ourselves in line with that ideal, doing our parts to eliminate our personal wrongdoing from this world.

There is one additional approach to this language of circumcising the heart, the emotional approach. In both pesukim in Devarim, circumcising the heart and removal of orlah is designed to foster love of Hashem. This is a theme taken up in the Yom Kippur liturgy, where we ask Hashem to “circumcise our hearts so that we will love and fear Your Name.” When we focus on the emotional, orlah becomes whatever obstructs our heart’s ability to fully love God. So, what does obstruct our ability to love God? There is no one answer to this question. We might be angry with God for a perceived injustice. We may resent Hashem’s commandments that restrict our freedom to do what we want. We might question the extent of God’s role in our lives or even question His existence. We may be embarrassed by discussion of our practical relationship to the Divine. Or our hearts may simply be blocked from opening to our Creator by the all-too-present distractions of everyday life, both positive and negative.

Yom Kippur is our opportunity to earnestly correct and connect. We ask Hashem to open our hearts, but every relationship is a two-way street. This year, take the time to consider, “What keeps me from opening my heart fully to Hashem? What can I do to improve that relationship?” Whether you find your answer in the intellectual, psychological, spiritual, emotional, or some combination thereof, there is no better time for self-reflection and removal of the obstacles to our loving Hashem, our family, our friends, and ourselves.

6

Rosh Beit Midrash

RAV YITZCHAK ETSHALOM

RAV YITZCHAK ESTHALOM IS THE ROSH BEIT MIDRASH AT SHALHEVET HIGH SCHOOL. RAV ETSHALOM CONTINUES TO DIRECT THE TANACH MASTERS PROGRAM AT YULA BOYS’ HIGH SCHOOL, GIVES SHIURIM THROUGHOUT THE CITY, IS A REGULAR CONTRIBUTOR TO YESHIVAT HAR ETZION'S VIRTUAL BEIT MIDRASH, AND IS A PUBLISHED AUTHOR ON TANAKH METHODOLOGY AND RABBINIC LITERATURE. HE ATTENDED YESHIVAT KEREM B'YAVNE, RABBI ISAAC ELHANAN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, AND YESHIVAT HAR ETZION BEFORE RECEIVING SEMICHA FROM THE CHIEF RABBINATE OF YERUSHALAYIM.

The Still

SMALL VOICE Rosh Hashanah is defined by the Torah as a Yom Teruah (Bamidbar 29:1) – a day of “blasting sound.” Nowhere does the Torah tell us how to make that sound, nor what sort of sound it is. The Tannaitic Midrash on Vayyikra (Sifra, Emor par.

11, cited in BT Rosh Hashanah 33b), utilizing the close textual affinity between Rosh Hashanah and the Jubilee Year (Vayyikra 25:9), defines the vehicle for that sound as a shofar and the requirement to sound three teru’ot – broken sounds.

Building on that Midrashic methodology, Haza”l adduce the obligation to have a peshutah – a flat, unbroken blast – before and after each teru’ah. In other words, the essential obligation of the day is to hear three broken blasts, each preceded and followed by a teki’ah – an unbroken blast – all from the shofar. (Since we are unsure what sort of sound a teru’ah is meant to be and some had the practice of sounding a pulsating blast, others a staccato sound and others both of those, we sound all three options – thus bringing us to the “30 sounds” which is the core Halakhic obligation of the day.)

Although from Rabbinic times until today, numerous appealing and often moving explanations have been proffered to explain the symbolism of the shofar, I’d like to propose a new wrinkle within the broad landscape of shofar-symbolism.

There is a long-standing debate, anchored in rabbinic literature, as to whether we view mitzvot as (seemingly) arbitrary Divine decrees, or as actions intended to mold our minds and hearts to greater service to God and Man. Even those who would posit the first position would certainly agree that a mitzvah associated with memory – Rosh Hashanah is called Yom haZikkaron – “Remembrance Day” – and whose vehicle has such a rich and deep emotional history for us (the shofar of Sinai, the ram at the Akedah and the anticipated shofar of redemption) must be geared to deep and profound emotional and spiritual impact. We are, therefore, not only justified, but likely mandated to ask – what is the point of the varied blasts of the shofar and what should our hearts be hearing?

The constant theme of the Tefillot on Rosh Hashanah is the coronation of the Almighty. It is a day in which we declare, repeatedly and poetically, God’s reign over all and our fervent prayer that all of His creatures throughout the world will come to recognize that “Hashem, the God of Israel is King…”

This immediately helps us decipher the intent of the opening teki’ah, the single, unbroken, and majestic blast. This is nothing short of a coronation, heralding the ascent of the King to His Throne. God’s dominion, unlike that of despots, but similar to that of beneficent rulers, is not all about Him – it is about His subjects. Our declaration of His rule is ultimately the world’s great gain. As such, each person stands before God as he or she declares the hegemony of the Almighty.

The awareness of standing before the King of Kings cannot help but bring home the real sense of insignificance that each person must feel in His presence. If we feel small at the lip of the Grand Canyon, from the top of Mammoth Mountain or in the presence of our newborn child, how much more so when standing before the Creator of all. This mood, this sense of fragmentary existence which defines the human condition, is given a Halakhic imprimatur in the focal command of the day – the sound of the teru’ah. That shattered sound gives voice to the shattered heart, reeling from the encounter with 7

our Creator. If we were to stop there, we might posit that this is the essential mood of the day – people coming to terms with their own fragmented and paltry lives.

The Halakhah, however, does not leave us there, weeping and wallowing in our own smallness. The shattered heart is redeemed, and the broken voice becomes whole again with the teki’ah that must follow every broken sound. What is the meaning of this grandeur? It is not God’s omnipotence overwhelming us – it is God’s beneficence lifting us, redeeming us and reminding us that we each play a grand and significant role in His world. We all matter and each of us, warts and all, brings a unique and vital strength and power to the unfolding of history and to the ultimate redemption of the world.

If the first teki’ah is the sound of God and the teru’ah symbolizes the sound of the human heart, then the final teki’ah – and ultimately the teki’ah gedolah of redemption – is the sound of our hearts echoing and giving our own voice to the majesty of God in His world.

ARIANA MYERS

SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘23 8

Ninth Grade Dean RABBI ELI BRONER

RABBI ELI BRONER SERVES AS 9TH GRADE DEAN AND JUDAIC STUDIES TEACHER AT SHALHEVET, AS WELL AS YOUTH DIRECTOR OF BETH JACOB CONGREGATION. RABBI BRONER HAS BEEN A LEADER IN THE FIELD OF JEWISH EDUCATION FOR WELL OVER TWO DECADES. OVER THE YEARS HE HAS TAUGHT ALL SUBJECTS OF JUDAIC STUDIES TO STUDENTS FROM FIRST TO TWELFTH GRADES. HE PREVIOUSLY SERVED AS MASHGIACH RUCHANI AND DIRECTOR OF SAFETY AND SECURITY AT HARKHAM HILLEL HEBREW ACADEMY, AS WELL AS PRINCIPAL AT THE CONEJO JEWISH DAY SCHOOL IN AGOURA HILLS. RABBI BRONER RECEIVED HIS BACHELORS OF RABBINICAL STUDIES FROM THE RABBINICAL COLLEGE OF AMERICA AND ORDINATION FROM YESHIVA COLLEGE IN SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA. HE IS A MEMBER OF BOTH THE WESTERN ASSOCIATION OF SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES (WASC) AND THE CALIFORNIA ASSOCIATION OF INDEPENDENT SCHOOLS (CAIS).

Tishrei is Over:

NOW WHAT?

The month of Tishrei is full of joy and inspiration. It is a month that at every turn, we have been occupied with thought, introspection, inspiration, Tefilla, extra acts of kindness, exuberance, and family and community gatherings. We have spent the month on a constant upward spiral of spiritual growth and now we must return to our everyday, mundane lives.

At times like these, we are faced with a choice. We can say, “Ok, that was great and Tishrei, see you next year.” Or we can say, “Let’s look at what I have accomplished in this month and how I can take the inspiration into my daily life for the rest of the year.”

The Journey of The Rest of The Year After Simchat Torah, it was customary at the court of the Rebbes of Chabad to declare: “‫“ — ”ֹויעקב הלך לדרכו‬And Jacob went on his way.” This quote from Sefer Bereishit, Parshat Vayetzei (33:2) describes how after twenty years in Charan, Yaakov our forefather took his family and all that he had acquired and headed back to Eretz Yisrael. We can apply this idea in the context of Tishrei to say that now we have spent the month amassing inspiration and many Mitzvot, it is time to take all that we have collected and use it on the path of life ahead.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Sichot on the Parsha, Bereshit-Noach-Lech Lecha, 1978) writes that by looking at each of the words in this phrase, we can draw inspiration and guidance for how to incorporate the Tishrei experience into our daily service of Hashem.

1 ‫ ויעקב‬- And Yaakov The name Yaakov represents the way we as Jews engage with the everyday world and connect it to G-dliness. The name Yaakov consists of the root word ekev, meaning heel, and the additional letter yud, which commonly refers to the holiness of Hashem. Yaakov represents taking the “heel” of the world, i.e., even the most mundane matters and those seemingly unconnected to spirituality, and connecting it to the divine. ‫ הלך‬- Went A Jew must know that he needs to constantly be moving upward on a path of growth. For this reason, saying that “Tishrei was nice and now we move onward” is not an option. We must take the inspiration of Tishrei and continue to grow in our connection with Hashem while concurrently making an impact upon the world around us. We need to take the relationships that we have cultivated over the month, be they with family, friends, community, or Hashem, and continue to develop them into even greater connections.

I recently read the following account from a healthcare professional: "I was a Red Cross certified lifeguard and swim instructor for almost a decade. Some public pools will actively prevent their lifeguards from obtaining more advanced first aid/lifesaving certifications so that they cannot be held liable in the event of an emergency requiring that level of care. For example, they don't want their lifeguards to be certified in using BVMs (bag valve masks) or other equipment because then the lifeguard is obligated to provide that care if it is required, and this opens the facility to more liability if something goes wrong and a complaint or lawsuit is brought against them."

While this policy might be good enough for a facility that does not want to shoulder a greater level of responsibility, we 9

as Jews are not satisfied with the status quo. As we enter into the rest of the year, we cannot just say that we will continue with our everyday lives unaffected by the inspiration and growth experienced during Tishrei. A Jew must always be on a path of growth. ‫ לדרכו‬- On his way A “derech” is a path or a road, which can connect two locations together, even those that are distant from one another. In the context of our daily lives, we have just spent the month of Tishrei in the “King’s palace.” It is a month that we spend in the presence of Hashem with our days filled with Tefilla, learning, and Mitzvot. It is a month that is more holiday than weekday. As we leave Tishrei and head into the rest of the year, we occupy ourselves with our everyday mundane routines. If we are lucky, we manage to make Shabbat an island of spirituality and connection. If we are really dedicated, we manage to grab a shiur or chavruta, and find time to perform some acts of chesed. The theme of “and Yaakov went on his way” is for us to use the road of the year that we are traveling on to connect back to Hashem’s palace that we came to know in Tishrei and bring that inspiration into our daily, weekly, and monthly lives. We need to find moments of Tishrei every day.

Tishrei: The Ultimate Trade Show In Chassidic thought, Tishrei is compared to traveling to a trade show. You walk the various stalls amassing all types of wares, and at times you are not even fully aware of what you picked up on your many stops. When you leave the show, you take an extra suitcase with you to your home destination. When you get home, you begin to unpack what you acquired and use or sell it. In the same way, each of the chagim and moments in Tishrei are stalls in our spiritual trade show. Now that we are heading home, it is time to see what we picked up along the way and begin to apply it to our everyday lives.

These are some of the points that we have hopefully amassed during the various times of the holiday season.

Elul – Reflection; assessment; resolutions for the future.

Every day we can find a moment to reflect on the day before and resolve to make a change for that day.

Rosh Hashana – Accepting Hashem as our King; teshuva; sweetness.

Every morning, we awaken and say Modeh Ani again, declaring that we are ready to serve Hashem.

Teshuvah is not a once a year process; every day, we can reflect on what we need to improve on to get closer to Hashem.

Even when we are stuck in the daily rigamarole of making a living, we need to find time to bring sweetness into our day.

Take time to find what brings you joy and happiness.

Yom Kippur – Fasting; focusing on what really matters; forgiveness.

While we engage in the pursuit of all things, material and corporeal, we must take time to see that it is only a means to an end. We must maintain focus and use that which we acquire to better our family, community, and the world around us. In addition, there will be times that we need to take a moment to forgive those that may have wronged us just like Hashem forgave us on Yom Kippur.

Sukkot – Unity; temporary dwelling; joy.

Just as on Sukkot the binding of the Lulav symbolizes uniting all types of people, we need to continue to connect with each other and use our differences to our advantage. In addition, while we have moved back into our permanent homes, we must always remember that what really makes a home is the people and the actions we take while in the home. Finally, we should infuse our lives every day with a little of the joy we experienced while rejoicing in the Sukka.

Simchat Torah – The joy of completing the Torah; dancing with the Torah.

We must find ways to continue learning throughout the year and celebrate the completion of portions of Torah. And when life gets heavy and difficult, stop and just dance. It will change your day!

Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak of Lubavitch once went to see his father (Rabbi Shalom Ber of Lubavitch) after Yom Kippur and asked, “What now?” His father answered, “Now, especially, we must repent.” With a suitcase full of Tishrei tools, we are now truly prepared to travel on our journey into the year and remain connected to the inspiration and feeling of growth of Tishrei. May we merit not only to stay connected, but also to reach new heights and continue to repent, improve, and refine ourselves, our families, our communities, and the world around us.

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Director of Chesed

MS. CHANI LIBERMAN

MS. CHANI LIBERMAN IS THE DIRECTOR OF CHESED AND A MEMBER OF THE LIMUDEI KODESH FACULTY AT SHALHEVET. MS. INFIELD WAS FORMERLY THE DIRECTOR OF PROGRAMMING AT YACHAD IN NEW YORK AND IN MOSHAVA WILD ROSE. SHE STUDIED BOTH IN BAR ILAN AND AT TOURO COLLEGE IN NEW YORK.

The Connection Between

YOM KIPPUR AND CHESED

The Rambam writes (Hilchot Teshuva 3:4) that during the Aseret Yemei Teshuvah, it is customary not only to work on our tefillot and mitzvot in general, but also to increase the amount of tzedakah we give and the ma’asim tovim (good deeds) that we do. Throughout these 240 hours, we take the time to reach out to those in need, ask forgiveness from those we have wronged, and try to have better focus during our tefilot to prepare for our Day of Judgment, Yom Kippur, where we are given our final verdict for the coming year.

These days of repentance are a time where the gates of Heaven are open and we call out to Hashem, ask for his forgiveness, and reevaluate ourselves and our actions from the year passed. We use this time to cleanse ourselves from our wrongdoings and try to start over. This time period marks the end of one year and starts a new year for each of us on a clean slate. Given this reality, the importance of increasing and improving our tefillah and mitzvot during this time makes sense, but what is so important about doing ma’asim tovim, or chesed (kindness)? How can increasing our acts of chesed really change us in a matter of ten days? Wouldn’t tefillah or tzedakah be enough?

Furthermore, why does the Mishnah in Pirkei Avot (1:2) declare that gemilut chasadim is one of the three pillars upon which the world is built? The other two of Torah and serving Hashem appear to be much more fundamental and crucial than acts of kindness.

We can learn from both the Rambam and Pirkei Avot just how important chesed is. The first two pillars mentioned in the Mishnah focus on the relationship between Man and Hashem, while the third pillar focuses on relationships between Man and Man, which evidently is equally important. Perhaps this is because doing chesed not only helps the person in need, it also strengthens the relationship of people with each other and of mankind as a whole. Chesed builds a community of those who share common values and understandings.

Increasing our chesed at this time of year not only helps us rectify our wrongdoings with our fellow man from the year before, but it also sets us up to start the new year off with our best foot forward. We use the Aseret Yemei Teshuvah both to fix our previous mistakes and to teach ourselves how to be better for the future. Chesed serves as our connection to each other and also helps guarantee that we continue to grow from year to year. It is important that we increase our observance of mitzvot in general, but we should make sure, as the Rambam states, to also increase our performance of chesed. Giving others what they are lacking and giving ourselves the opportunity to unite with other Jews is a great way to begin the new year.

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CAROLINE KABOUDI SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘24

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Shalhevet Class of ‘23 MOLLY MENASHE

MOLLY MENASHE IS A SENIOR AT SHALHEVET AND A MEMBER OF THE BEIT MIDRASH (BMT) PROGRAM.

Sarah and the Banishment of Yishmael: A NEW UNDERSTANDING

Every year during the Torah reading on Rosh Hashanah, we read about the drama that unfolds within the “first family” of Avraham and Sarah. Sarah selflessly offers her servant, Hagar, to her husband, Avraham, when she is unable to have children, knowing that her husband’s children were destined to become a nation. Then, after Hagar gives birth to Yishmael and Sarah miraculously gives birth to Yitzhak, Sarah instructs Avraham to expel Hagar and Yishmael in order to protect her family. God commands Avraham to listen to Sarah, and so Yishmael and Hagar are cast into the desert.

This story bears no apparent connection to Rosh Hashanah, which is about renewal, creation, and reflection. Moreover, this story seems to focus on Hagar and Yishmael, two individuals who are ultimately not even included in the Jewish nation. Why did the Sages choose this story about complex family dynamics as the Torah reading for the first day of Rosh Hashanah every year?

A closer examination of the text raises some thought-provoking questions that may perhaps complicate the situation further while simultaneously providing some clarity: Is this conventional narrative what the Torah is actually portraying?

Why did Sarah actually banish them? Was her decision just and necessary, or was it perhaps too harsh?

Some commentators interpret Sarah’s actions as quite harsh. Rashi (21:14) cites the Midrash Rabah, which explains that Hagar placed Yishmael on her shoulders when they were sent away because Sarah had cursed Yishmael with an evil eye, so he fell ill and became unable to walk. This explanation does not offer a rationalization for Sarah’s actions and can possibly be understood as depicting her actions as nefarious (though see below for Rashi’s understanding of Yishmael’s conduct). Furthermore, the Ramban (21:15) writes that because Sarah demanded that Avraham immediately send Hagar and Yishmael away, “‫”להוציאו מיד‬, they were unprepared. They lacked necessities – such as camels and money – that could have aided them in the desert. According to this explanation as well, Sarah’s actions were particularly harsh, and perhaps she could have at least provided Hagar and Yishmael with proper supplies. Both Rashi’s and Ramban’s explanations (as well as several other mefarshim – see Ibn Ezra, Chizkuni, and Tzeror HaMor to Bereishit 21:9, 14) of this story seem to portray Sarah as acting cruelly and raise questions as to whether her actions were superfluous (though Hashem does validate her decision).

Others, however, clearly justify Sarah’s actions as necessary and provoked. The Torah records that Sarah saw Yismael “‫מצחק‬,” playing, and she then told Avraham that Yishmael and Hagar must be expelled because “,‫“ ”לא יירש בן־האמה הזאת עם־בני עם־יצחק‬this servant’s son shall not inherit with my son, Yitzhak.” Sforno and Kli Yakar (21:10) both infer from this verse the magnitude and dire nature of Sarah’s situation. According to Sforno, Yismael, at the instruction of his mother, spread rumors that Avraham was not actually Yitzchak’s father so that he could steal Yitzhak’s inheritance; therefore, Sarah, who knew that Yishmael did not have any rights to the inheritance, had to banish Yishmael to protect her own son. Kli Yakar explains that the word ‫ מצחק‬refers to idolatry, murder, and forbidden relationships in other stories in the Tanach. Thus, Sarah was not actually concerned with monetary inheritance; she rather feared Yitzhak acquiring Yishmael’s bad behavior (Rashi mentions this understanding as well). By explaining Sarah’s actions, both Kli Yakar and Sforno indicate that Sarah’s actions were motivated by her concern for her family.

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Dr. Marsha Pravder Mirkin interprets part of this story in a different light. She does not interpret Hashem’s words to Avraham, “‫שמע בקלה‬,” “listen to her voice,” to mean that Avraham should obey Sarah and actually expel his servant and son. Instead, she explains, Hashem is instructing Avraham to simply listen to Sarah’s words – to hear her concerns, empathize with her, and make her feel heard. This interpretation dismisses Avraham’s expulsion of Hagar and Yishmael as a consequence of a misunderstanding between himself and Hashem, where Avraham believed that Hashem was instructing him to execute Sarah’s request, while in reality Hashem simply meant that he should validate her feelings.

Through the lens of Dr. Mirkin’s interpretation, Hashem’s initial commandment to Avraham, “‫שמע בקלה‬,” emphasizes the importance of simply listening. The act of listening, being present and saying “I hear you,” rather than listening only with the purpose of solving one’s problems, can have a significant impact upon an individual. Too often, we find ourselves consumed by the allure of social media, the flashiness of technology, the stress of work and school, relentless news stories dropping and the social drama that ensues, as our eyes and ears subconsciously glaze over the people around us. Reading this story on Rosh Hashanah serves as a reality check, urging us to check in on our loved ones and truly listen to those around us.

Returning to the approaches of the classical commentaries, perhaps we can derive additional lessons from the story that are relevant to Rosh Hashanah. Although it remains unclear whether Sarah in fact sinned at all in this instance, the story teaches us that everyone, including Sarah, occasionally performs actions that hurt or damage others, even if justified. In fact, in Parshat Lech Lecha, the Ramban clearly states that Sarah did sin when she afflicted Hagar (Bereishit 16:6). In light of the larger debate among mepharshim there concerning whether or not the Avot were fallible, at the very least this narrative requires that we must always consider how our actions will affect others negatively and how best to help them, even if we feel those actions are necessary. Perhaps it is for this reason that the Torah specifically notes that Avraham was distressed over the fate of his son, Yishmael. Even if he felt that Sarah’s position was justified and necessary, Avraham understood that banishing Yishmael would be harmful to him in the short term and was pained by it.

As we sift through a year of memories during this period of teshuva, repentance, we replay the moments where we made mistakes and hurt others or ourselves, just like we reread this parsha twice a year, both on Rosh Hashanah and during Parshat Vayeira. This redundancy allows us to reinterpret the story and reflect upon it differently with each reading, enabling us to critique and refine our own interpretations. In doing so, we need to accept that our own perception, while legitimate and valuable, is incomplete without, and not inherently more valid than, other perspectives on the story. This humility is essential to the process of teshuva. We must examine our past deeds through this lens of humility, without getting stuck in our own self-righteous stories and defenses of our actions, but instead considering and respecting the narrative of those affected by our actions. Reading this story on Rosh Hashanah not only diversifies our perspective of Sarah and provides profound insight about empathy and imperfections, but also teaches us the key to a meaningful teshuva: humility.

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Limudei Kodesh Faculty

MS. ARIELLA ETSHALOM

MS. ARIELLA ETSHALOM IS PROUD TO BE PART OF THE JUDAIC STUDIES FACULTY AT SHALHEVET, SERVING AS THE SHOELET U’MEISHIVA OF THE BEIT MIDRASH TRACK. AFTER RECEIVING HER B.A. AT STERN COLLEGE, SHE SPENT A YEAR TEACHING IN SAR HIGH SCHOOL'S BEIT MIDRASH FELLOWSHIP PROGRAM. ALONG WITH TEACHING AT SHALHEVET, SHE IS CURRENTLY WORKING TOWARDS HER MASTER'S IN BIBLICAL AND TALMUDIC INTERPRETATION AT YESHIVA UNIVERSITY'S GRADUATE PROGRAM FOR ADVANCED TALMUDIC STUDIES (GPATS) AND WORKING AS AN ADVISOR COORDINATOR FOR MIDWEST NCSY.

Consistently Inconsistent:

USING TEFILLAH TO KEEP US GROUNDED When we begin the month of Elul, anticipating the upcoming festive season, we are filled with a wide range of emotions.

Thankfully, each holiday has a unique set of Tefillot to represent the theme of the day and give voice to the special emotion of that time. We have a Machzor for Rosh Hashana, which is different than our Machzor for Yom Kippur, and certainly different than that of Sukkot. But throughout the whole period, from Rosh Chodesh Elul all the way through Sukkot, we recite one additional psalm that somehow relates to each of the different holidays. Twice a day, at the end of our Tefillah, we say Psalm 27; “‫”לדוד ה’ אורי וישעי‬. What is this psalm all about? And what emotions is it meant to evoke such that it is added continuously during this whole period of Elul and Tishrei?

This psalm can be split up into three sections, which each express a different emotional theme. The first one expresses strong faith and connection to G-d – “‫”ממי אירא‬, the second one consists of slowly creeping doubt that begins to form – “‫”אחת שאלתי‬, and the third is one of complete fear and crisis – “‫”שמע ה' קולי אקרא וחנני וענני‬. If the goal of reciting this psalm is to connect to its emotional tone in order to inspire us during this time of year, how is possible for us to do so when the emotional tone of the psalm itself seems to vacillate?

I’d like to suggest that the inconsistency of emotions is exactly why we read it at this intense time of the Chagim. As we go from Rosh Hashana, a time of crowning Hashem as our King and rejoicing in the excitement of the new year, to Yom Kippur, the day of deep reflection on our actions and our choices in life, we too feel wobbly and inconsistent. Much like the Psalmist, we feel fully secure in who we are and what we have chosen to focus our efforts on, we also feel completely dissatisfied with where we find ourselves, and sometimes we find ourselves in the middle, with a small element of doubt.

And we often vacillate between these three states. How do we choose to deal with these conflicting emotions? We do not just sit and wallow in depression, we turn to G-d and ask Him for help. We do this in the sweeter moments of Rosh Hashana, dipping our apples in honey, as we transition through the Aseret Yemei Teshuva, and all the way through Sukkot. As humans, we don't always have control over our emotions, but we do have control over how we deal with them.

Ledavid is a psalm about connecting to the human element inside all of us. We have moments of complete confidence in G-d and in His ability to help us with everything we need to do, but we also have moments of doubt and fear. As humans, it is natural to have the inconsistency of both. But what grounds us through it all? It is the structure of Tefilla. Turning to G-d in times that we have such strong faith and also in moments that we feel a shakier bond with Him is what keeps us on the path, counterintuitively, to a stronger connection. Much like David, we can acknowledge that we have this human instinct to both feel our own strength and also a complete reliance on G-d and His constant help.

I hope that we can all embrace this time of reconnecting with Hashem by remembering that it is not unusual to have those inconsistent emotional moments (or not to feel that much at all) as long as we structure ourselves through the Tefillot that help us keep the consistent relationship alive. Wishing you all a Shana Tova UMetuka!

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RACHEL BLUMOFE SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘ 24

Dean of Students

RABBI ARI SCHWARZBERG RABBI ARI SCHWARZBERG IS THE FOUNDER AND DIRECTOR OF THE SHALHEVET INSTITUTE AND DEAN OF STUDENTS AT SHALHEVET HIGH SCHOOL. HE RECEIVED HIS SEMIKHA FROM YESHIVA UNIVERSITY AND HOLDS A MASTERS OF THEOLOGICAL STUDIES FROM HARVARD DIVINITY SCHOOL.

Don't Fake Your Faith:

SEFER YONAH AS A GUIDE TO THE ‫ימים נוראים‬

One of the first Jewish ideas I can recall from my youth is that we each have a yetzer hara and a yetzer tov, an evil and good inclination. These figurative angels and demons account for our inner voices that compel us to be both our best and our worst each day of our lives. As we mature and grow older, we hope that we’ll be more angelic than demonic, but it’s hard to imagine being able to simply hit the delete button on our dark side. Our “good” and “bad” sides constantly battle for proprietorship of our soul and much of our religious work is to redeem ourselves from the immoral thoughts and actions embedded in our genetic code.

This is all well and good. We know that we’re not meant to be perfect and that there’s work to be done.

But what do we do when our demons burden us? How do we respond when doubt or skepticism shake up our faith? What about when the world we inhabit is tormented by shootings, terrorist activity, and health crises? These are difficult questions for everyone, but for the believers out there, these can be testy times. As we enter Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur, our inner voices might be asking questions about a world that can often seem more unjust than just and more merciless than merciful. These are crippling ruminations that we’d prefer would go into hibernation this time of year. As we daven, the last thing we want is swirling thoughts in our head that might pollute the holy work of the day.

Or is it?

What if we were to bring our most real and honest selves into shul and engage our tefillah not only with belief and faith, but also with the rawness of our vexations and difficulties that comprise an inextricable part of any religious consciousness?

If you’re not convinced, look no further than the curious selection of Sefer Yonah as the haftara for Mincha on Yom Kippur afternoon. Often bestowed upon an honorable member of the community, rabbis and scholars have long wondered how a story about a rebellious prophet figures into the Yom Kippur liturgy. In short, the prophet Yonah begins his book by rejecting God’s request and ends the story as a reluctant messenger of God, who despite fulfilling God’s demand does so unwillingly, even angrily.

The standard explanations usually emphasize the exemplary nature of Nineveh’s teshuva. Nineveh, a large Assyrian city, transformed their actions and thereby serve as a model of repentance and subsequent forgiveness on Yom Kippur. Others might emphasize Yonah’s personal change from a person who flees from Hashem to a Navi that ultimately fulfills His command. While these approaches have merit, they both seem incomplete. On the one hand, Nineveh’s teshuva is quite temporary. Eventually it’s the Assyrian nation that is responsible for the exile of the Jewish people and the decimation of Judah. Additionally, while Yonah does eventually carry out Hashem’s command, Yonah remains angry and bitter about his job even at the conclusion of the sefer.

The image of Yonah, therefore, still provides a strange way to usher in the climactic moments of Ne’ila. There are surely other stories in Tanach that would more easily convey powerful messages about teshuva, piety, and righteousness. Why are we bringing reluctance, rebellion, and anger into a day designated as kulo l’Hashem, a day steeped in holiness and 17

enveloped by godliness?

But perhaps that’s it. Yonah’s role on Yom Kippur instructs us that a relationship with God isn’t always one of simple faith and submission. Sometimes, there are moments of clarity and purpose that bring us close to our Maker, and other times we are lost and troubled, feeling like God’s presence is anything but near.

We spend most of Yom Kippur knocking on Heaven’s door, attempting a 25-hour existence that does its best to transcend the human realm. But then there’s about a ten-minute window late in the afternoon when we’re invited into the world of a troubled prophet who finds an unjust world intolerable. Yonah doesn’t mince words: in the final chapter he twice exclaims to God that “it is better for me to die than to live.” Even at the close of the story, after God does His best to show Yonah His ways, we are left wondering about Yonah’s reaction. The story closes on a cliffhanger with the reader unsure whether Yonah remains recalcitrant or is finally convinced of God’s preeminence.

The linchpin, however, is that despite all this, Yonah is, and remains, a prophet. While many other prophets prove their prophetic worth by unquestionably heeding God’s demands, Yonah’s prophetic qualities are best understood in the inverse. Yonah’s constitution as a navi b’yisrael (a prophet of Israel) directly emerges from his boldness. Though he could have checked out or remained silent, Yonah demands a world that is better, his moral clarity ultimately furnishing an activism that could just as easily have faded into apathy. Rather than remaining asleep in the hold of a ship, Yonah brings his frustrations into a conversation with God. In fact, the climactic moment of the story occurs when Yonah channels His accusations into an actual tefillah: ‫חנון‬-‫ל‬--‫ כי ידעתי כי אתה א‬:‫ לברח תרשישה‬,‫כן קדמתי‬-‫על‬--‫אדמתי‬-‫היותי על‬-‫זה דברי עד‬-‫ה' ויאמר אנה ה' הלוא‬-‫ויתפלל אל‬ .‫הרעה‬-‫חסד ונחם על‬-‫ ארך אפים ורב‬,‫ורחום‬ He prayed to the Lord, saying, “O Lord! Isn’t this just what I said when I was still in my own country? That is why I fled beforehand to Tarshish. For I know that You are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in kindness, renouncing punishment.

This is the tefillah par excellence of our tradition, the 13 attributes of Hashem, the ‫י״ג מדות‬, a refrain we’ve been saying for weeks now and that we’ll say throughout Yom Kippur. Yet, Yonah inverts this tefillah, accusing Hashem of being overly merciful at the expense of truth and justice (notice how ‫ אמת‬is glaringly absent in Yonah’s prayer). The point being that although Yonah vehemently disagrees with God, his consternation becomes a vehicle for tefillah, an instrument for a more honest and vulnerable communion with God. Of course, God is right and Yonah is wrong. Our ability and need to question God is not a comment on His perfection.

Still, this short story is retold on Yom Kippur as a reminder that a real relationship with God is not always harmonious.

Yonah, the prophet, models the capaciousness, the ability to both believe and question, that any meaningful relationship demands. We both relate to Yonah’s firm declaration in chapter one that “I am a Hebrew; and I fear the Lord, the God of heaven, who made the sea and the dry land (1:9),” while also sympathizing with Yonah’s disposition as described by the narrator: “This displeased Jonah greatly, and he was grieved.” Religious life is neither linear nor one-dimensional.

So, I invite you all to give it a shot. If you’re feeling troubled or frustrated with the world, if things haven’t been going the way you’d imagine them, step into the shoes of Yonah, and bring your complete self into your service of God this Yom Kippur. For such is the way of prophets.

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Limudei Kodesh Faculty Regional Director, West Coast NCSY RABBI DEREK GORMIN

RABBI GORMIN IS PART OF THE LIMUDEI KODESH FACULTY AT SHALHEVET, WHERE HE TEACHES TALMUD, JEWISH PHILOSOPHY, CHASSIDUT, AND TEFILA (PRAYER). WHEN NOT INSIDE THE HOLY WALLS OF SHALHEVET, RABBI GORMIN IS THE REGIONAL DIRECTOR OF WEST COAST NCSY. RABBI DEREK GORMIN STUDIED POLITICAL SCIENCE, MUSIC AND SOCIOLOGY AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, IRVINE, AND RECEIVED A CERTIFICATE OF INTERNATIONAL POLITICS FROM YONSEI UNIVERSITY IN SEOUL, KOREA. UPON GRADUATION, DEREK WAS BLESSED TO SPEND TIME DIVING INTO THE DEPTHS OF HIS JEWISH HERITAGE IN VARIOUS YESHIVOT IN JERUSALEM.

Starched COLLARS

I love the feeling of a freshly laundered shirt with a heavy starched collar hosting a skillfully crafted half-Windsor knot.

We all know that feeling of the initial donning of a fresh new garment. We understand the idea of “you look good, you feel good.” We also know that fresh collars don’t last forever. After a few days, weeks, or months that newness wears off.

The once new and exciting shirt becomes the norm and the feelings of joy subside. The cycle looks something like this: New shirt, clean it, newish shirt, clean it, regular shirt, clean it, old shirt. There are occasions that trigger the buying of new clothing; a wedding, a bar mitzvah, or the first day of school. When the opportunity presents itself and we are blessed to get a new garment, the exciting life cycle of fresh clothing and good vibes repeat itself.

Fresh garments bring feelings of confidence, renewal, and joy. Perhaps applying this idea as well to our spiritual journey through the season of the Yomim Noraim, the high holidays, can help us better appreciate and maximize the season.

Imagine Yom Kippur as a spiritual washing machine. The power of the day rids our soul of any stains or schmutz that may have been picked up over the year. We come out of Yom Kippur spiritually soaped, starched, and steamed. What an incredible feeling! We are ready to take on the world.

But the story doesn’t end here, and frankly, it has a major sequencing challenge. That freshly laundered shirt brings with it renewal and confidence. Those lifecycle events that facilitate shopping for new clothes are hallmarks of fresh beginnings and new starts. We buy the clothing, first wear them on the occasion for which they were purchased, and then the life cycle of clothing continues. It would seemingly make more sense to follow the same order for the high holidays; to first have a spiritual laundering, namely Yom Kippur, which would chronologically land before Rosh Hashana. We want to wash our schmutz through the spiritual laundry machine and only then, with a fresh clean soul, celebrate Rosh Hashana. But our flow of high holidays does not seem to follow suit with our clothing, where first we launder, and then we wear fresh clothing for the new start. Why would the calendar have us entering the new year at precisely the point when our souls are the dirtiest? No one feels a deep sense of renewal from pulling soiled clothing out of a hamper.

Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, Chassidic luminary and founder of the Chabad dynasty, taught that on Rosh Hashana, every creation has a special ability to experience a reorientation towards its original purpose. Rosh Hashana requires a person to dig deep and come face to face with their reason for existence. In Jewish parlance, one might say, Rosh Hashana helps us refocus on our tachlis, our individual purpose of creation. Perhaps more simply put by sociologist Simon Sinek, Rosh Hashana forces us to “start with why.”

The days between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur are traditionally referred to as the Aseres Yemei Teshuva, the ten days of repentance. These days, which fall out right after the recalculation of our Spiritual GPS, allow for reflection and exploration relating to our fresh life. With our specific and authentic “why” in mind, we are able to ask meaningful questions about our journey this year. Questions like: Where are we going? How will we get there? Where can I find help?

What type of new skills will I need? What does spiritual success look like for me? Who is my new growth oriented chevra? These questions should fill our minds and hearts during the time between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. We can only have these types of directed, “tachlis” oriented reflections after achieving understanding of our truest purpose 19

through Rosh Hashana. Rabbi Isaac Luria, known as the Arizal, kabbalistic thinker, writes about the ten days of repentance that it is our time to be involved with “binyan hamalchus,” literally translated as “building the kingdom.” This kingdom can be understood on multiple levels. It refers to God’s kingdom, which is the entire universe, the kingdom of the Jewish people, and most notably for our purposes here, the kingdom within each one of us. This is the time to build ourselves.

With this new framework in mind, we can now understand why the spiritual cleansing of Yom Kippur must take place following the celebration of Rosh Hashana and we could never imagine Yom Kippur occurring beforehand. We would never pack for a trip before we know where we are going. An African jungle safari necessitates a very different packing list than a trip to Brooklyn for your cousin’s bar mitzvah. The Mishnah in Pirkei Avos (3:1) urges us to “know where you are going.” The GPS directional knowledge comes from Rosh Hashana. The second step is to figure out how to get there and which tools or “clothing” we need. This work is done during Aseres Yemei Teshuva. Finally, once we have determined which clothing we need, we can launder them to be fresh and ready for an incredible trip ahead. That spiritual laundering is our holy day of Yom Kippur.

May this holy season bring you the clarity to see your truest holy purpose. Sending blessings for the insight to build your personal kingdom. Ultimately, may you have the spiritual joy of wearing a freshly laundered shirt with a heavy starched collar hosting a skillfully crafted half-Windsor knot. May you and your family be inscribed and sealed in the book of life, l’chaim tovim ul’shalom ul’simcha!

ELLIOT SERURE

SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘23

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Shalhevet Class of ‘20 ZEV KUPFERMAN

ZEV KUP F E R M AN G R AD U AT E D S H AL H E V E T IN 2020, S P E N T A YE AR L E A R NI NG A T YT VA A ND I S N OW AT W AS H IN G T ON U N IV E RS IT Y IN S T . L OU IS S T U D YIN G A R CHI T E CT U R E .

The True Joy: Appreciating

THE UNIQUENESS OF THE SIMCHAT BEIT HASHOEVAH "‫ לא ראה שמחה מימיו‬,‫"מי שלא ראה שמחת בית השואבה‬ “One who did not see the celebration of the Simchat Beit Hashoevah never saw simcha in his days." (Sukkah 51a) Chazal in this statement refer to the unique and wondrous joy of the Simchat Beit Hashoevah, the celebration in the place of the water drawing, that took place in the Beit HaMikdash on Sukkot. What exactly was so special about the simcha experienced there?

Rav Menachem Fromen, of blessed memory, a student of Rav Tzvi Yehudah Kook and a founding Rabbi of the Gush Emunim movement, points to two different aspects of the joy present at the Simchat Beit Hashoevah that made it unique.

To illustrate these points, he cites two different statements made by Tanaim who attended the celebration.

The first is that of Hillel the Elder, who declared at the Simchat Beit Hashoevah (Sukkah 53a): “If I am here, everyone is here; but if I am not here, who is here?” On the surface, it seems that Hillel is making an arrogant statement. Rashi clarifies that Hillel was in fact speaking in the name of God. “If I am here, everyone is here," means that when His presence is brought into a space, then everything is there, and nothing else exists. However, if His presence is missing, there is nothing of value in that place.

Immediately after, Hillel is quoted as making another statement: “To the place that I love, there my feet take me. [Now speaking in the name of Hashem:] If you come to My house, I will come to your house; if you do not come to My house, I will not come to your house.” This statement can be understood as referring to one’s relationship with Hashem: If you invite God in, He “will come.”

Hillel seems to be stressing in these two statements that at the Simchat Beit HaShoevah, it was clear to all that the presence of Hashem and the desire to draw close to Him was what made the festivities so great and unique. The joy and celebration stemmed not from a desire to have a good time, but rather due to the spiritual feeling of ecstasy of being in the presence of Hashem. In this context, a seemingly “chutzpadik” statement on the part of a great Sage becomes imbued with great holiness because its intent was to illustrate the central role of Hashem’s presence at the event. Moreover, it is precisely on Sukkot that this event was celebrated, since it is during this time that our temporary living space in the sukkah has no permanent structure, and metaphorically, the walls we have created to separate ourselves from God have disappeared.

The second aspect mentioned by Rav Froman that made the Simchat Beit HaShoevah special was that the societal framework was shattered. This is evident from a second statement about the rejoicing at the Simchat Beit HaShoeva concerning Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel, the head of the Sanhedrin (Sukkah 53a). Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel would juggle eight flaming torches that miraculously did not touch each other. Imagine a well-respected rabbi juggling fire – it would be an absurd sight to see.

Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel put his personal honor aside to experience and convey to others the joy of the festival.

Through his actions, he found a way to ignore the high status he held and enable others to rejoice with him on equal footing. This was the other unique element of joy present at the Simchat Beit Hashoevah – the joy was not stained by one’s 21

social framework or affected by one’s social status. Rather, all individuals, including the greatest of rabbis, were able to rejoice and dance together equally to celebrate Sukkot and bask in the divine presence in the Beit HaMikdash.

This second message, too, is especially pertinent on Sukkot. The sukkah is a space where the societal walls are brought down. During the days of Sukkot, Am Yisrael leaves their permanent houses to live in sukkahs, like the Jews in the desert, where no distinction existed between the rich and the poor. Our homes have permanent established walls, while our sukkahs are temporary with makeshift walls, a space open to boundless joy. This is the other true simcha that was experienced and highlighted at the Simchat Beit HaShoevah: The joy of freeing oneself from society’s rigidity, where even great rabbis can engage in juggling or make statements that appear arrogant when they are done for the sake of rejoicing with Hashem.

Wishing everyone a Sukkot filled with joy and the ability to keep their sukkahs open to all, because “to the place that I love, my feet take me.”

MAAYAN MAZAR

SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘24

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