In most congregations the Shir Shel Yom is uprooted from its usual place at the end of the service and is instead recited at the very begginning of the service on the days of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur.[1] I’ve been searching for some kind of authoritative explanation for this change but I haven’t come up with anything too impressive, so I’m hoping readers can help me.

One possible explanation I (and others I asked) came up with is that it is in order not to burden the congregation with seemingly unimportant readings at the conclusion of an already long prayer service. The problem with this approach, however, is that it is completely fictitious. The service will end at the same time whether a certain prayer is recited at the beginning of the service or at the end. Would the sages implement such a change simply in order to accommodate some kind of childish pschychologial diversion? Maybe. But unlikely.

The sefer “Shirat Shmuel”, which is a compilation on everything imaginable regarding the Shir Shel Yom, also ponders this question with no concrete answer. He suggests that maybe the Shir Shel Yom is recited at the beginning of the service, alongside the korbanot, in order to further emphasize the theme of avoda and the Beit Hamikdash which features prominently in the Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur liturgy.

While the second explanation is a slightly more creative one, it is still problematic since it is not merely the Shir Shel Yom which is transplanted to the beginning of the service – but a number of other additional readings (shir hayichud, anim zemirot), which have no direct connection with the Beit Hamikdash, are transplanted along with it, as well.

Jerry Glazer of Modiin suggests that maybe it was moved to the beginning of the service because of some deadline that might have existed in the Beit Hamikdash which required the Leviim to sing the Shir Shel Yom by a certain time each day (chatzot?) which would be missed if the Shir Shel Yom were to be recited at the end of the service on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. Was there such a deadline? I don’t know. I’d need to get my hands back on the Shirat Shmuel to check that one out. In any event, Glazer always has good ideas — it’s time he wrote a sefer.

It would be remiss not to note that the Noheg K’tzon Yosef (p. 42) records a custom of always reciting the shir shel yom at the beginning of the service together with the korbanot. This actually makes good sense, as the Shir Shel Yom was sung by the Leviim in conjunction with the daily offering which the recitation of korbanot serves to recall. However, not only have I never seen any community which follows this custom but there would be no basis to suggest that “this one time” we should follow the Noheg K’tzon Yosef as it is a sefer of primarily German customs and not a sefer which commands much halachic authority.

Any other ideas?

Shalom Zachar – Friday Night – Rechov Nachal Dolev 31b – Ramat Beit Shemesh. Bris on Monday, iy”h.

Ktivah V’Chatima Tova to all – and if I have offended anyone in my postings, please be assured that it was unintentional and I ask you forgiveness as I extend the same to any who offended me. May we be zoche to see the rebuilding of the beit hamikdash speedily and in our days (and as I ended a dvar torah last week – if moshiach comes and says the rationalists got it all wrong, I will be happy to become a cabbalist, just let him come already.)
Joel Rich

From: Current Edition of Tradition – Judah Goldberg
Ultimately, the strength of my conviction that patients deserve a chance at the truth flows less from any particular argument and more from a visceral aversion to all forms of paternalism. I have learned this aversion – in good faith, I hope – from mori ve-rabbi R. Aharon Lichtenstein, who consistently displays a deep reluctance to make decisions for others, and I have observed the same in other students of the Rav as well. This tendency, I believe, stems from multiple sources. On the one hand, it represents a fundamental belief in free will as not just a mandatory catechism, but as a celebration of both the privilege and the challenge of charting one’s individual course and owning its consequences. But more than that, this lack of enthusiasm for writing the destinies of others reflects a conviction that life decisions are intensely personal and, as such, call for personal responsibility. No one else can fully sort out the nuances of personal background, context, or predilection that influence a significant decision, nor does anyone else need to live with the outcome.
Question: If you are a true believer in “Daat Torah” in its strong form, why would you ever make your own decisions rather than ask “Daat Torah”?

Shiras Haazinu

Shloshim Yom Department

A. Various Aspects of Rosh HaShanah

B. Aseres Ymei Teshuvah

C. Erev Yom HaKippurim

D. The Chamishah Inuyim

E. Hilcos Sukkah

We have, in the past, discussed how some rabbis of the time reacted to the moon landing (link). R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik responded negatively to a query whether this disproved the verse stating that the heavens are only for the Lord. R. Ya’akov Kamenetsky stated that this refuted the Maimonidean (Aristotelian) view that the moon is a living being. R. Menachem Kasher, on the other hand, argued (unconvincingly) to the contrary in a monograph devoted to the meaning of the moon landing.

I came across another rabbinic response to the moon landing that takes a somewhat different approach than those discussed above. R. Shlomo Wolbe, in a talk on Shabbos Parashas Ki Seitzei in 1969, used the moon landing as a parable (Da’as Shlomo, Ma’amarei Yemei Ratzon p. 81). Unapologetically and unselfconsciously, he told how the astronauts were quarantined for 21 days after returning to Earth to ensure that no alien bacteria or viruses came back with them. Similarly, he suggested, if there were spiritual beings on the moon they would have quarantined the astronauts for upon landing to ensure they were not bringing any “bacteria” of lack-of-God-fearing, any contamination of irreligiosity. If the Chafetz Chaim, R. Yisrael Meir Kagan, had been the first to land on the moon, he would have seen a pure landscape entirely untainted by irreligiosity, perhaps even attaining the level of prophecy.

I find this reaction entirely characteristic of a Mussar personality — using contemporary events to illustrate a spiritual point. I also find it noteworthy that R. Wolbe saw no religious challenge in this monumental event, referring to it without skeptical disclaimers or intellectual alarm. Instead, he found a Mussar aspect which could further the goal of deepening fear of God.

A similar question can be asked of a counterintuitive Torah requirement. The generation about to enter Israel is told (Deut. 29:15-17):

You know how we lived in the land of Egypt, and how we came through the midst of the nations through which you passed. Yand you saw their abominations and their idols… Lest there be among you man or woman or family or tribe, whose heart turns away today from the Lord our God, to go and serve the gods of these nations…

Rashi explains that this generation of the desert saw, as they passed through the land of other nations, that the idolators worshipped gods that were disgusting and detestable, like insects and excrement. They are then immediately commanded to beware lest any of their number turn to worship these idols. I would understand the need for this if they may have been fooled into thinking that these idols have some power but why, if they recognize the meaningless of these idols, would they be suspected of worshipping them? Shouldn’t this realization serve as the ultimate preventive medicine?

R. Yisrael Salanter, in his Letter on Repentance (Or Yisrael, no. 32), provides two approaches to understanding the yetzer ha-ra, the evil inclination. Rationalists see it as man’s physical desires, his biological needs pulling his mind, body asserting itself over soul. Mystics, however, consider it to be a spiritual force enticing man to violate the Torah’s laws. R. Salanter accepts both approaches, and we can readily see the duality. Most desires are of a physical nature — food, rest, relations. Some are more psychological but can still be connected to physical success — power, praise, money. Yet the “forbidden waters” example fails to fit into this definition. The occasional desire that is contrary to physical pleasures remains unexplicable without the Mystical approach.

Returning to the biblical question, disgusting idols represent no natural challenge. One has no physical or psychological desire to worship them because one will attain no benefit from doing so. Yet the “forbidden waters” attract a person, the mystical desire draws one to violate this Torah law. This is why, despite the recognition of the ineffectiveness and disgusting nature of idolatry, one must still be alert for its ability to attract.

Space/Time Continuum Questions:
A gzeirah (promulgation) is made on the assumption that the community will accept it.
1) Do those being gozer have to expect 100% will accept it? 90%…(you got the idea)
2) As the gzeirah is enacted (let’s assume the answer to question 1 is 90%), initial acceptance is 92.76%. Are the other 7.24% punishable sinners?
3) At the end of 6 months acceptance drops to 10% and the promulgators realize this is a gzeirah shein hatzibbur yachol laamod bah (unworkable promulgation) and it is no longer halachically operational (side question – do they have to declare this or does it happen by itself?). Are the original 7.24% sinners or retroactively off the hook? What about the next 2.66%? What about the one guy who put it to 89.999999%?

Single Motherhood
This isn’t a new issue but a recent article (link) highlighted the minority rabbinic opinion that allows older single women to conceive a child artificially rather than remain childless. I understand the reasons for lenience. Let me repeat that I understand. But the issue is larger than any single person. What will happen once (if) this procedure becomes standard? It will become an option. Women will be able to choose to marry and have children that way or have children on their own. While there are many benefits to marriage, there are also downsides to the constraining and often frustrating relationship. Women will lose a major psychological and biological reason to marry. People act based on many different motivations and pressures. By removing parenthood as a pressure for marriage, we will be significantly lessening the pressures that encourage women to take a risk with marriage. I see this as, in the long term, compounding the singles problem that we are supposed to be solving.

Every belief system, every religion and ideology, adopts certain beliefs as underlying assumptions. Moses Mendelssohn is often quoted as saying that Judaism has no dogmas. The truth about his view is more complex, which has probably led many to misunderstand his views. In a similar fashion, contemporary questioners of the conventional wisdom on Jewish dogma have seen their complex views equally misunderstood.

R. Aharon Lichtenstein

In the recent book, The Relationship of Orthodox Jews with Jews of Other Religious Ideologies and Non-Believing Jews, partially quoted last week on this blog (link), R. Aharon Lichtenstein disputed a viewpoint he attributed to Moses Mendelssohn and, in a contemporary version, to Prof. Marc Shapiro. Here is the relevant excerpt (p. 189):

At a second plane, there are those who, not content with tilting swords with the Rambam over the catechetical weight of a specific codicil, question the very notion of Jewish dogma–either to the point of denying its historical existence or by asserting that it lacks all normative halakhic force. This position is most familiarly identified with Mendelssohn, who affirmed it quite unequivocally; but it was subsequently adopted by many in the early stages of the Reform movement who, for obvious reasons, so long as they still claimed allegiance to the halakhic canon, preferred to denigrate potentially divisive doctrinal elements while focusing upon ritual and ethical implementation; and it even gained credence among some avowed adherents of tradition who, in the similar interests of communal unity, preferred to be denominated as Orthoprax rather than Orthodox.

In actual fact, however, this position constitutes a skewed misrepresentation both of what had been and of what could have been. It is, of course, true that dogma occupies a less prominent station in yahadut than in Christianity–particularly, if the basis of comparison is Lutheran “justification by faith.” It is, further, equally true that we encounter in Hazal little of systematic theology, whose efflorescence gained momentum only after Rav Saadyah Gaon and the Rambam. But there is also little of systematic morality in Hazal, and Spinoza’s Ethics was as alien to their spirit as Luther’s Ninety-Five Theses. Would anyone therefore deign to assert that the ethical dimension did not constitute an authentic and integral facet of yahadut?

And then in an endnote (p. 220 n. 4):

Mendelssohn’s position was in all likelihood oriented to his specific Jewish background and agenda. Beyond this, however, it probably reflects the pallid character of the Enlightenment. Recently, this position has been energetically pressed by Marc Shapiro, but it can hardly be defined as a variant of avowed Orthodoxy.

Moses Mendelssohn

The question has been asked whether R. Lichtenstein accurately portrayed Mendelssohn’s and Shapiro’s views. While Mendelssohn is often quoted as saying that Judaism has no dogmas, the truth about his view is more complex. Solomon Schechter wrote (Studies in Judaism, vol. 1 p. 148):

[Mendelssohn] himself was not consistent in his theory, and on another occasion declared that Judaism has dogmas, only that they are purer and more in harmony with reason than those of other religions… [H]e published a school-book for children, in which the so-called Thirteen Articles were embodied, only that instead of the formula “I believe,” he substituted “I am convinced.”

Prof. Alexander Altmann (Moses Mendelssohn: A Biographical Study, pp. 543-544) claims that Mendelssohn believed that Judaism offers freedom of doctrine except concerning the existence of God, providence and revelation.

These explanations of Mendelssohn’s view do not contradict R. Lichtenstein’s statement because R. Lichtenstein offers two definitions for questioning the existence of Jewish dogma: 1) denying the historical existence of such dogmas, 2) asserting that these dogmas have no normative impact. Schechter has proven that Mendelssohn does not fit the first definition but has nothing to say on the second. I have no insight on this either.

Prof. Menachem Kellner

There are two main contemporary exponents on the contours of Jewish dogma. Each, like Mendelssohn, has been accused of denying that Judaism contains dogmas. Yet each has nuanced views that are misunderstood.

Prof. Menachem Kellner, if I understand him correctly, argues that there are basic Jewish beliefs but no dogmas (see his Must A Jew Believe Anything?, particularly the afterword to the second edition). This means that while Judaism is incomprehensible without certain basic theological beliefs (e.g. God’s existence), these beliefs do not function as dogma, as gatekeepers determining who is in and who out. It is not clear to me whether this approach falls into R. Lichtenstein’s first category but it certainly is within the second.

Prof. Marc Shapiro

Prof. Marc Shapiro, on the other hand, argues against the idea that Judaism has no dogmas. He writes (The Limits of Orthodox Theology: Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles Reappraised, p. 29):

There is no question that one of the great misinterpretations of Judaism, so frequently repeated that it is often assumed as a matter of course, is that Judaism does not have dogmas. To be sure, all would agree that belief in God and some sort of revelation are dogmas that the tradition has always affirmed, but, aside from these, Judaism has commonly been portrayed as granting complete freedom in matters of thought. However, even if one discounts Maimonides’ original advocacy of what can be termed salvific dogmas (namely, dogmas the belief in which guarantees one a place in heaven), the fact remains that for all medieval authorities, as well as the talmudic rabbis, there were certain dogmas which Jews were obligated to believe in, simply because the religion is unintelligible without them.

Here Prof. Shapiro argues strongly that there exist beliefs that Judaism deems to be obligatory. He even calls them dogma. But does he believe that they have normative halakhic force? He never states it explicitly but that seems to be the implication of his entire book. He argues that while there are Jewish dogmas, the Rambam’s thirteen principles are not them. Evidently, if he could define the “true” dogmas then they would have normative halakhic force. Do we have such a definition? Would he consider someone who asserts that the text of the Torah is morally deficient or entirely denies revelation — ideas not found anywhere among classical exponents of Judaism — to be a heretic?

In this hyper-connected world, it is easy to clarify things like this. I e-mailed the question to Prof. Shapiro, also noting that we must take into account various leniencies and considerations before applying the term “heretic,” and he responded in the affirmative — given all the appropriate disclaimers, such a person is a heretic (or such a position is heresy — he didn’t specify but there is no reason to nitpick on this). It seems to me that Prof. Shapiro does not fall into either of R. Lichtenstein’s categories. I am not sure, though, whether readers generally recognize the nuances of Prof. Shapiro’s approach.

(I also e-mailed Prof. Kellner with my summary of his views and he confirmed its accuracy.)