I am so sorry that you find yourself in this painful situation. It is sad when one does not feel loved by a parent and when one cannot offer that love. The abusive treatment you experienced clearly left deep wounds that remain tender. While your question lists several behaviors by your father that you object to, it is only the question of abuse that is relevant to the question of whether you must mourn his eventual passing or not.

There are two key issues embedded in your question. (1) What are the limits of the command to honor one's father and mother, at least regarding mourning. (2) For whom are the rites of mourning intended?

(1) It is worth noting that the Biblical command is “to honor your father and your mother” (Exodus 19:12). To honor, not to love. The Torah, and the rabbis in turn, are aware that abuse exists, that not every filial relationship evokes feelings of love. As a minimum standard the tradition mandates that the child assure that the parent has food and drink, clothing and shelter. The cost of these expenses is to be borne by the parent. Additionally the task of seeing to these needs can be assigned to an agent. (Maimonides, Hilchot Mamrim 6:3)

While this minimal reading of the obligation allows a child to create distance between themselves and the parent, distance that may be necessary for the child's protection, it falls short of answering if there are circumstances in which the obligation does not hold.

Rabbi Mark Draitch, the founder of Jsafe (The Jewish Institute Supporting an Abuse-Free Environment), discusses this as part of a longer article, Honoring Abusive Parents, which appeared in

Hakirah, the Flatbush Journal of Jewish Law and Thought. In considering those who might be considered exempt from observing shiva he note the following:

Rema adds to this list those who sin on a continuous and regular basis, even if they do so le-teyavon ̧out of a lack of self-control. R. Eliezer Waldenberg notes that Rema would also disqualify from this list those who violate a commandment le-hakhis (intentionally), even if that violation is not on a regular and continuous basis.

Draitch proceeds to outline a debate in the classical sources on this question, but then states clearly:

Nevertheless, an abused child is not obligated to mourn an abusive parent and may not be compelled to observe shivah, sheloshim, or the twelve-month periods of mourning.

I take seriously your statement that when you and your father have spoken “it just opens old wounds and literally makes me ill - physically and mentally.” As if in response to your comment Draitch specifically states that

it may be cruel for us to impose mourning rituals on these children. After all, being compelled to perform acts that honor an abuser may be abhorrent to the victims and may create additional feelings of resentment against the perpetrator, the community, and the tradition that places this onus upon them. In addition, listening to tributes for parents that children know are undeserving and unworthy further victimizes those children emotionally.

He goes into much more detail than I can include here. This is sufficient to allow me to say that the tradition certainly exempts a child who has suffered abuse at the hand of their parent from observing mourning.

(2) That leads, however, to the second question: for whom is the mourning intended. If it is for the benefit of the deceased, then Rabbi Draitch has provided a sufficient answer. If, on the other hand, it serves a productive, healing purpose for the survivor, then perhaps a case can be made that you would benefit from observing rituals of mourning.

It is conceivable that observing the rituals of mourning may offer a path to healing, either by using traditional observances or opting for more contemporary options.

Rabbi Dr Joel Wolowelsky theorizes that “opting out of the mourning process would only cement the lifelong feeling of betrayal... [Mourning an abusive parent] might just inspire individuals to seek help in coming to peace with their past” (cited in More Than a Tear: A Shiva Guide for Mourners and Consolers, by Yigal Segal). While clearly recognizing that “the halacha exempts abused children from sitting Shiva if they would suffer emotional distress,” Segal suggests that the process may offer a way to look forward to a future wholeness.

A similar outlook, though using less traditional practices, is offered in the book, Sexual Abuse in Nine North American Cultures: Treatment and Prevention, edited by Lisa Aronson Fontes (pg. 154ff). She suggests that some form of mourning may release some of the grief and sense of betrayal surrounding the abuse.

She cites this example that was published in the Valley Women's Voice by M. Wolf:

Sitting shiva for one's abusive parents is indeed a holy and spiritual process... The mourner is taken care of by her community for a period of time...one cries and tells one's story and feelings so often and with so many supportive mirrorings being reflected back, that it transforms one's memories from painful stones in one's shoes to threads lining the back of one's coat. In other words, what one has suffered no longer is a source of new original fresh pain, but part of what is behind you and magically transformed into something that protects and keeps you warm.

Aronson Fontes also notes the examples of those who have used the mikveh, the ritual bath, to provide a sense of spiritual cleansing and purification. Also, she offers the suggestion of creating affirmations that can be used through the time of mourning or in daily prayer/meditation. All of these have a goal of helping one connect with their cultural, historical, and spiritual background.

Clearly, based on the opinions outlined by Rabbi Draitch, you may choose not to observe mourning rituals for your abusive father. Alternatively, it may be worth considering if there are ways in which some traditional or contemporary rituals may serve you in your process of healing.

Finally, I would note that there is another question on the Jewish Values Online site that may offer useful insights: http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/question.php?id=546&cprg=%2Fsearch.php%3Fsearchtxt%3Dabuse%26what%3DA

The obligation of hakhnasat orkhim, welcoming guests, is a powerful one that reaches back to the very earliest levels of Jewish life. The Torah (Genesis 18) tells of Abraham running out to greet the men (who turned out to be angels) in the heat of the day, despite the fact that he was still recovering from his circumcision. Midrash Tanhuma (Lech l'cha) teaches that Abraham fed all passers-by generously and when they wished to thank him, since they did not know of a greater God, he taught them to thank God instead. The midrash makes the point that he did not limit his guests to those who agreed with his worldview, nor did he do anything that might embarrass his guests. They were welcome regardless of whether they shared his values or not.

Abraham's open tent policy stands as a background against which to consider this question, though it does not provide a complete answer. There are two sides to this question and they need to be considered separately. (1) Do you as host have the right to tell your guests how they should behave, at least if they want to be good guests? (2) Do you have the right to set standards of behavior for your home, which one might consider one's holy space?

We aren't privy to the specific situation the questioner envisions. Would it make a difference if the guests were:

• your 80 year-old, widowed aunt and her 85 year-old steady companion;

• a long-time couple in their 40's or 50's who simply choose not to get legally married;

• your 23 year-old who brought home his girlfriend of 2 weeks;

• or your daughter's 18 year-old friend from school who just brought along a friend?

• Would it make a difference to you if the couple were same-sex, and you didn't know if they were a couple or if they simply were traveling together?

• Is the question about the behavior of your own kids who are visiting in their parent's home?

• Does the question involve a party to a divorce that has articulated certain standards within a divorce or separation decree?

I would understand if you evaluated each of these scenarios differently, perhaps coming to different conclusions about how you think they should behave as guests.

In general I don't believe a host has the right to tell a guest what their behavior should be. There are limits. A parent can impose reasonable limits on the way a child behaves in the parent's house. If you know that your guest is party to a legal agreement with a former spouse, it is reasonable not to enable or encourage behavior that runs counter to that legal agreement. But those are exceptions. You may not approve of your friends choosing to live together for decades without getting married, but it would be wrong to impose your standards on them. They are free moral agents and have the right to make their own ethical decisions. They deserve your respect, even if you do not share their values.

At the same time you, as host, are due respect from your guests. We refer to one's table as a mikdash me'at, a mini-altar. Your home is your holy space and you have the right to define what adds to and detracts from that holiness. It may help to begin by thinking of other ways in which we set standards within our own home that we expect our guests to respect when they enter our space. Here are a few common standards that come to mind. We might ask friends

• not to smoke under our roof;

• not to use illegal drugs;

• to limit the consumption of alcohol;

• not to bring food that we find objectionable (not to bring treif into a kosher home, not to bring allergens that could affect us);

• or not to carry concealed weapons, assuming the host has an objection.

By extension from those examples one might well say that there is a standard for how couples behave in this space – that there is an expectation of a formal or informal arrangement that is the equivalent of marriage before we offer our guests to share a room. The hosts would likely need to explain their reasoning with a bit more detail, but such a limitation is possible. Note that it does not tell the couple how they should or should not behave sexually or as a couple, only that you have certain limitations. It's me, not you.

It might be reasonable to consider that certain circumstances might change the way one thinks about this question. For example, if there are young children in the house, would one want to control certain behaviors?

One aspect of this question that puzzles me is that usually when we have invited guests we know them well enough in advance that this situation would not come as a surprise. The time to have such a conversation is well in advance of a visit actually taking place in a setting in which one could articulate issues that cause you discomfort or concern. If the guest knew that the hosts were uncomfortable, for whatever reason, with them sharing a room with a single companion, would they even ask for such hospitality?

It must be added that if this situation led to a sudden confrontation – for example, the guest showed up with an unexpected companion and was told at the last minute that their expectations could not be met – I imagine that the friendship itself could be at stake. I would caution any host to think carefully about the ways in which their standards, however well-intended, might affect future relationships.

Abraham remains our standard. He conducted his life according to his own, high values, making him an exemplar in many ways. He also welcomed all who passed his way, understanding that their values differed from his. He chose to lead by example and in doing so drew many to follow his path. Abraham's standard is a high bar for any of us to meet, especially when we discover that our values clash with those we hold dear. May your home be filled with guests who add to the holiness of your space.

It is an interesting challenge to try to summarize the legacy of such a powerful personality. Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach's life included many chapters: shaliach for the Lubavitch movement, Orthodox rabbi, Hippie rabbi, singing rabbi, advocate for the Soviet Jewry movement, inspiration for Jewish Renewal, and more. You are correct that he inspired many people to return to their Judaism, but it was not only to Orthodoxy. Rabbi Carlebach taught and played at synagogues of all stripes as well as in the secular world, such as the Newport Folk Festival and folk clubs. His deeply rooted teachings, Hasidic stories, and songs encouraged people to embark on their own spiritual journey. Those journeys led them to explore Orthodoxy, but also Reform, Conservative, Reconstructionist and Renewal Judaism. His music, stories, and, more recently, his teachings can be heard in synagogues across the Jewish spectrum.

I had very limited experience of Reb Shlomo during his life, but I constantly meet people who were influenced by him in profound ways. I have met Jewish composers and song-writers who owe a debt to Reb Shlomo either because they build on his style or because he helped create an openness toward innovative new music. I have met people who returned to Judaism because of their encounter with him; they speak of his unbounded, loving welcome that led them to believe they had a substantive home in Judaism. Even people who had very limited contact with him recall the joy and the energy he elicited from his audiences. I don't suggest that this is the limit of his legacy, but these are certainly significant elements of the heritage he leaves us.

His daughter, Neshama Carlebach, attended the national convention of the Union for Reform Judaism last year. She writes that she felt something in that gathering that reminded her of her father's teachings. Moved by her warm welcome, she declared that she made aliyah to that movement. And she defined that aliyah, saying, “I have not abandoned anything that is intrinsic to me; I’ve simply expanded myself and been elevated.' I believe that she, as do so many others, blends the lessons and legacies of her father with the conditions and aspirations of her present life.

Perhaps the legacy of Reb Shlomo is that he inspired and empowered individual Jews to rediscover and reshape their own relationship to Judaism. I am hard-pressed to think of another teacher whose followers are to be found in every corner of the Jewish world. It is quite an achievement. 

Thank you for your inquiry. I admit that this is an awkward question to answer because it asks me to explain someone else's motivation. As one who supports circumcision for both religious and medical reasons, I find their position difficult. Here are some of the points as I understand them.

The Doctors Opposing Circumcision site speaks of genital integrity. They promote a film titled: “Whose Body, Whose Rights.” I understand their intent to be that only the person whose body it is has the right to make such a decision; and, conversely, that the parents do not have that right. Parents, however, make a myriad of decision on behalf of their children – ranging from whether to protect them from disease by use of vaccines, to whether they should go to a public or private school, to whether they should be raised in a particular religious tradition. All of these decision have long-lasting implications and most parents believe it is their obligation to act for what they understand to be the best interests of their children. I am hard-pressed to see this as a qualitatively different case.

This group cites various reasons for their opposition to medical circumcision. There has been an ongoing debate over the efficacy of circumcision for nearly a century. At times the medical establishment has advocated for, at other times against. In 2012, after a comprehensive review of the scientific evidence, the American Academy of Pediatrics found the health benefits of newborn male circumcision outweigh the risks, but the benefits are not great enough to recommend universal newborn circumcision. The decision should remain in the hands of parents. Doctors Opposing Circumcision has a paper explaining their dissent.

But none of this addresses the religious reasons for supporting circumcision. It is wonderful to have medical support endorsing this procedure, but the main reason Jews circumcise their sons is because it is considered a mitzvah, a religious obligation. The reasons behind this act are not about health benefits (those are an added benefit), but because it is a sign of the covenant. The bris, the ritual act of circumcision, affirms that this young boy is now a member of our ancient people, not because of choice but from birth. When a male convert chooses to become Jewish he also undergoes the rite, affirming his membership in the Divine covenant as if from birth.

There are feminists who object to the rite of circumcision because they feel that it implies that only males are part of the covenant. To address this objection a number of new rituals have been created over the past 40 years to welcome our daughters into the covenant in ways that parallel the bris.

There is also a group called Mothers Against Circumcision. On their web site they suggest that “Christianity split off from Judaism because its followers did not see any value in the Old Testament requirement.” This is a gross misunderstanding of the complex forces that led to the separation of Christianity from Judaism; one that does a disservice to both traditions.

They also suggest that if one does not observe all of Jewish tradition in detail, then there is a hypocrisy in choosing to observe the mitzvah of circumcision. This, however, misunderstands the development of liberal Jewish traditions over the past 200+ years. Each of the denominations of Jewish life understand their obligation to observe the Torah in different ways. A comprehensive response from the Reform movement concerning the question of rejecting circumcision is found at http://ccarnet.org/responsa/nyp-no-5769-4/

I hope this addresses your question. Questions of personal autonomy and integrity, such as this, ultimately reside with the family. As much as any rabbi or religious institution wishes to enforce their point of view, as much as any person suggests benefits or consequences, the family decision will prevail. As I suggested at the outset, my position is that this ritual act continues to serve as a defining rite welcoming a son (and I also encourage families to observe similar rituals for their daughters) into the covenant of Israel.

Your question goes to the heart of the Jewish understanding of the world. We understand the Book of Genesis to teach that God created the entire world and all of the peoples who populate the earth. Later God entered into a covenant with Abraham, which becomes the bond between God and the Jewish people. Implicit in this understanding is that God remains the God of all Creation. Even though the Jewish people have a particular relationship with God defined by the giving of the Torah at Mt. Sinai, God remains in relationship with all peoples who enter into a relationship with God that the Torah calls the Noahide laws. The prophet Amos declares: (9:7) “To me, O Israelites, you are just like the Ethiopians, declares the Lord. True, I brought Israel up from the land of Egypt, But also the Philistines from Caphtor and the Arameans from Kir.” As you suggest in your question, Judaism teaches that the righteous of all nations have a place in the world to come.

Based on this understanding one of the questions classically posed to those who wish to convert is, “do you understand that until now you were obligated only to the commandments given to Noah, but once you convert you will be obliged to observe the 613 commandments given at Mt. Sinai.” While individual rabbis may present the question in different ways, the implication is that you may serve God as effectively from outside the Jewish community as from within. Conversion fits those who wish to join their destiny with this particular people Israel.

But that may not address the core of your question. I don't hear you asking the general question, should one convert to Judaism, but the personal question of whether this is right for you. That is a question that cannot be answered for you, but requires you to listen carefully to the song of your soul. Is Judaism the path that allows you, in your most essential self, to serve God (however you understand that) or to bring holiness into the world? If Judaism is more effective than other paths for you, then I would counsel you to pursue your conversion.

There are no books that I know of that will address this question for you; the answer is to be found in your experience. Most rabbis require both study and practice as part of the process toward conversion. It may take a year or more – and often is keyed to your personal sense of readiness. You have obviously invested time and concern in exploring the question this far. I would suggest that you take the next step. Find a rabbi who understands your quest and enter into a process of exploration. Regardless of whether you decide that conversion to Judaism is the right path for you, or if you discover that it does not fit for you, your life will be enhanced. You will gain more self-knowledge. You will discover ways to bring holiness into the world, to promote righteousness and to serve God. You have everything to gain, I wish you many blessings along your path. 

As I understand your question, the concern is that kaddish either cannot be recited or will be delayed because of the donation of the body for science.

From a Reform point of view the donation of one's body for scientific study “is most certainly an instance of pikuach nefesh (saving a life)."  In contrast to those who might consider the donation of a body for medical education as something less than pikuach hanefesh, we hold that "if autopsy is an essential feature of medical education, it makes little sense to delare that we aprove of the saving of a life but not of the means by which medical professionals are trained to accomplish that goal... Our position presumes that the remains will be treated with the respect due to the human body (kevod hamet).” [Jewish Living: A Guide to Contemporary Reform Practice, Mark Washofsky, UAHC Press, 2001,, pg 189]

Based on this understanding there would be no reason to assume that the recitation of kaddish would be affected. Beginning with the time of death, or following a memorial service, the mourners would recite kaddish just as they would following a standard burial.  

I am sorry to hear that the issue of your husband's burial is causing such family strife. At a time when everyone is in mourning, one would hope that you could offer one another comfort. Alas, we know that deaths and the details that surround them often provoke tensions.

Your question leaves many details unanswered. Chief among them are these: Did your husband express any preference for burial locally or at Arlington? Do you live near Arlington, making it easy for family members to visit the gravesite, or might distance make visitation difficult? You don't say whether the decision to bury your husband at Arlington was a unilateral decision or whether it was a subject of discussion among the family members.

There are several possible issues embedded within your question. Here are the key topics I believe need addressing: is Arlington a proper place for Jewish burial? How are children to honor parents, in this case should they acquiesce to a parent's will? Is there an obligation that parents owe children to consider their point of view?

The question of burial at Arlington Cemetery has been discussed elsewhere on this site. In my response to that question I noted that Jewish service members and veterans have been buried at Arlington since the time of the Civil War. While there is no separate Jewish section, which may prove a problem for some individuals, Jewish burial there is common and acceptable.

As noted above, it is not clear whether the choice of Arlington as a fitting burial site originated with your husband or with you. Regardless one might ask if the obligation to honor one's parents extends to a decision such as this. The Torah teaches that children should honor and revere their parents (Exodus 20:12, Deuteronomy 5:16; Leviticus 19:1-3). Honoring parents means providing them with food and drink and clothing, and “leading them in and out.” Revering parents is understood as learning from them, not disagreeing with them in public and such.

On the face of it, then, the parent's decision is final, but I am hesitant to say so in this case. The choice of a burial plot impacts all members of the family who might wish to visit the site and honor their loved one in that way. Many people visit the gravesite at the time of the Yahrzeit or between the High Holy Days. Will the choice of burial at Arlington impose an undue burden on the children?

Which leads to the third question, what is the obligation of parent to child. The Talmud (Kiddushin 30a) teaches that a parent needs to provide the child with the skills necessary to survive in the world, including the ability to earn a living, be self sustaining, and establish an independent home. Where do we learn the skills of planning a funeral, coping with grief, and facing the financial and social dislocation that may accompany the loss of a spouse if not from watching our parents and grandparents?

I believe that the final decision is your's for a variety of reasons, including the honor children owe parents and the reality that you will bear the financial burden. However, I believe that you owe it to your children to have an open discussion about the decision. Their concerns need to be heard and considered and they need to hear your position. It may be that they can help if the issue is solely financial or that there is another burial site that may better fulfill the needs of the entire family. Whatever the final decision, your willingness to hold an open and loving conversation with your children will serve to guide them in the ways they can face grief and transition.

Granted, there are more details in Jewish law than any one person can keep straight. There are, at least in theory, consequences to the reality that no one is capable of doing it all. The High Holy Days liturgy includes the phrase that “repentance, prayer and tzedakah avert the harsh decree,” meaning that we recognize the consequences and can act to mitigate them. We do teshuva, acts of repentance, throughout the year and at Yom Kippur as a way of acknowledging our lack of perfection and petitioning God for forgiveness. One part of our constant conversation with God acknowledges that we are merely human and never perfect.

Being human, by definition, means we are not now and will never be perfect. God knows that better than we do; as Creator God understands the limits of our capabilities. If we look upon ourselves as “failures” because of our lack of perfection, it is only because we don't have God's perspective. We want and expect more from ourselves than is humanly possible.

In place of perfection we have choice. The Torah teaches: (Deuteronomy 30:19) “I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse.” This is our reality; we will enjoy life and we will die and along the way we will experience both blessing and curse. The Torah's response is “therefore choose life.” Life is messy, live with it because the alternative is much worse.

Human's have the unique opportunity to choose our behavior – to enliven our days or not, to observe the laws or not. We also have the ability to grow along the path; to do better this time than we did last. That growth is part and parcel of what we call teshuva, meaning for me that we can turn our lives to make better choices all the time. Our path is never a straight one, so we advance some days and get misdirected on others. I do not believe that our fate rests on any one choice. Knowing that at any given moment we may be off track, the goal is to find our way to be on track more often than not. The Torah's advice is not to give up, not to despair, not to look upon your past and declare yourself a failure but in every moment to look forward and strive to choose life.

I agree completely with Rabbi Fisher's response. Our tradition treats the matter of oath taking with great seriousness. Based on Numbers 30:3, "When one vows a vow unto the Lord, or swears an oath to bind his soul with a bond, he shall not break his word; he shall do according to all that proceeds out of his mouth,” it is assumed that God is party to any oath one makes. Jewish values clearly would not condone such a lie-under-oath.

I understand the impulse that underlies the question, but this is not a legitimate path to oppose the imposition of the death penalty in our criminal system. The state legislature bears the responsibility of setting guidelines for punishment, including whether and under what circumstances the death penalty may be imposed within their state. There are various organizations across the country lobbying against the use of the death penalty. Any individual who feels strongly about this issue should get involved and work directly on the issue through these groups.  

There are two aspects to the answer offered by the NY Times. The first addresses the question of lying to the boss for one's own benefit. Here the Ethicist responds that it is unethical and there is no way around this in reality. As you can read in a related question on JVO – noted alongside the question – Jewish ethics clearly would not endorse such a lie. The second question suggested by the response of the Ethicist is that there are occasions when, for pragmatic reasons, there seems to be no way to avoid a lie. While the Ethicist wishes to “contextualize the degree of real damage” and therefore allow the behavior, I would argue that Judaism would not agree.

The Sages taught that truth was the “seal of God,” one of the key names of the Holy One. In Exodus 23:7 we are specifically enjoined to “stay far away from falsehood.” That injunction includes speech, action and hearing. We should not speak falsely, act falsely or listen to falsehoods.

There is allowance for certain “white lies” – exemplified by the story of Sarah laughing at the idea of the aged Abraham fathering her child. God chooses not to pass the full content of Sarah's comment to Abraham in order to keep the peace. Similarly one is advised to praise the beauty of every bride, even if she may not be beautiful in your eyes. Such lies are characterized by the way they keep the peace and allow one to elevate everyone involved.

In this instance you are being paid for your expertise and time. If you are taking time off during the day or otherwise using company time to go job hunting, you are abusing the conditions of your employment. You are depriving your company of either the time or the expertise they are paying for in order to further your own ends.

I appreciate the dilemma – when can you go for a job interview that is not during working hours? It is better, however, to use your time – a personal day – than it is to use your company's time.

The form of the prayer that you cite is not regularly found in other prayerbooks. I looked at several standard orthodox siddurim – Rinat Israel, the Hertz prayerbook, Siddur Metzudat Avraham, among others – none of them include the phrase you mention. It does seem to be included in Sefardi prayerbooks and those of the Chabad movement, as well as Artscroll. I know of no non-orthodox prayerbook that uses the text you cite.

For a fuller explanation on the origin of the prayer and that particular text I would refer to the response given by Rabbi Natan Ophir to your question. Here are some additional thoughts.

Israel Abrahams, in his A Companion to the Daily Prayerbook, pg 213, sets the ideal scene for the prayer:

This duty [to recite the bedtime shema] responds to a deep psychological truth. The text on which the Talmud founds the duty is Psalm 4:4 “Stand in awe and sin not: commune with your heart upon your bed, and be still.” To fill one's mind with high and noble thoughts is a wise preparation for the hours of silent night. The presence of the pure excludes the impure, and the meditation over the good drives drives out the suggestions of evil. Let not my thoughts trouble me, nor evil dreams, nor evil fantasies – so runs the phrase in the night prayer, and man takes the best means to ensure a rest perfect before God by ending the day with thoughts of God.

The goal of the prayer is to place oneself before God in the most blameless way possible – and that includes going to sleep with no malice toward any person – regardless of their background.

The Kitzur Shulchan Arukh [Chapter 70: The Maariv (Evening) Service, paragraph 3] underscores that ethic.

It is proper for every God-fearing man to examine his deeds of the past day, before going to sleep. If he finds that he has transgressed in any way, he should repent, confess and wholeheartedly resolve not to repeat the transgression..... He should also resolve to forgive anyone who has wronged him, so that no man may be punished because of him; for the Talmud says (B. Shabbat 149b): “He on whose account a fellow man suffers punishment is not admitted into the presence of the Holy One, blessed be He.” He should say three times: “I forgive anyone who has annoyed me,” and then say, “Creator of the Universe, I forgive,” etc.

Here we also see that the focus is on the way one places themselves before God in the most blameless way possible. By forgiving all people one opens the way to dwell in the Divine Presence.

I have no information about when or why the phrase, “I forgive every Jew,” was added. It seems unnecessary; after all, once you forgive every person at the beginning of the prayer you have automatically included every Jew. It also seems to be somewhat at odds with the ethic which informs the prayer – that which is described in the two quotes noted above. Given a choice I would choose to pray with what seems to be the most standard text, the one that excludes the restrictive phrase you cite.

Most importantly, my condolences to you. May you find comfort in the days ahead and may your friends and community give you support as you move through your grieving.

You correctly identify the problem as a conflict between two important mitzvot: visiting the sick and escorting one to the grave. Both of these commands are included on the listing found early in the morning service which notes those actions from which we benefit in this world while the principle remains for the world-to-come.

You are faced with two equally weighty mitzvot and the tradition offers no guidance on how one might choose between them should that conflict arise, as it has for you. I am personally glad that the tradition does not resolve the question and leaves the question in our hands.

Let me turn from the mitzvot to you. I fully understand the desire to be able to do it all, but for many reasons that is not a realistic possibility. You need to make a choice which is necessarily personal.

I know people whose gut instinct is to be able to have one last visit while the person lives. They may have words that need to be said, they may need to hear a last word from their loved one, they may simply need to hold on to a memory of that person alive and responsive. The tradition cannot know if that describes you. If you are such a person, you should visit your brother while he yet lives.

I also know people for whom the most important moment will be to accompany their loved one to the grave. It is a way to show honor to your loved one. It is a place to speak with those who gather to pay their respects and share their experience of this person who impacted their life. It grants you closure. If you are such a person, you should defer your visit until the time of the funeral.

Neither I nor the tradition can sway the balance for you. That calculation resides in your heart. What I can tell you is that you cannot make the wrong choice. Your choice will express your love for your brother in the best way open to you.

May the Holy One comfort you among all those who mourn. 

You pose a complicated question and a precise answer might depend on details you have not shared in your post. For the most reliable response I would consult a rabbi you trust can hear all of your concerns. I can offer a more general response.

On one hand you want to be sure to do no harm to your children. The best path, then, is to be transparent to them. To let them know the process you went through on your path of conversion. Once they are armed with that information, they can decide when and how they need to share that with others.

On the other hand it is important to honor the decision you made to convert and the basic principles our tradition holds concerning that process.

Once one converts they are 100% Jewish for all purposes. The Talmud, B. Yevamot 22a, states categorically that “a convert is considered as a newborn child.” Once a Bet Din, a rabbinic court, has confirmed their status they are fully Jewish – without any further limitation or definition. This principle is reinforced when the Talmud, Baba Metzia 58b, states:

If one was a child of proselytes, one may not say to him/her, “Remember what your ancestors used to do.” If one was a proselyte who came to study the Torah, one may not say, “Look who's coming to study Torah which was given by the mouth of the Almighty! This one, who ate carrion and teref-keat, abominations and creeping things.”

This citation comes in the midst of a discussion of the Talmudic principle of ona'at devarim, wrongs committed by acts of speech. It is based on one of Leviticus 25:15, “You will not wrong one another.”

Sadly, the principle is often observed in the breach. Too often people ask when they shouldn't, and rabbinic leaders, who should know better, act as if they need to be universal gatekeepers for the Jewish people as a whole. Challenges to this or that conversion have become more common. The result is that no conversion – regardless of whether it was conducted by a Reform, Reconstructionist, Conservative or Orthodox Bet Din – can be considered universally acceptable.

Both the Jewish and general press have reported on this unfortunate development in recent years. Most recently the Jewish Press reported (2/6/2013) on a conversion, performed by mainstream Orthodox rabbis 20 years ago, that has come under question by Israel's Chief Rabbinate. The article (http://www.thejewishweek.com/news/israel-news/convert-snub-israel-fuels-fresh-anger?goback=%2Egde_1866270_member_211762567) offers details. More outrageously, a 2008 NY Times article detailed the ordeal of a young woman, raised in Israel to an American-born Jewish mother, who was challenged to prove her status as a Jew. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/02/magazine/02jewishness-t.html?pagewanted=all

I share this to underscore the point, regardless of how one entered the Jewish world there are those who will ignore our traditions and raise questions. But we do not need to be held hostage by them.

I understand that the reality is that your children may one day find themselves in a situation where they need to speak openly and lovingly to a potential mate and share their whole family story. They will want to enter into an intimate relationship without secrets that potentially may be divisive. For that reason they need to know the journey by which you entered under the tent of the Jewish people. But they, and you, are a long way from that moment. For now they need to know that you are fully, unquestionably, Jewish with all your heart and soul, and that you have raised them to take their own place in the long lineage that extends from Abraham and Sarah to you and them.

Rabbi Finman offers a simple and direct answer – that Ashkenazim generally name after deceased relatives while Sefardim will name after living relatives, but rarely parents.

The question does not indicate if the concern is with a Hebrew name which will be reserved for use on ritual occasions or a name which will be used out in the world. There may not be a difference as many people use their Hebrew names in their everyday world. Regardless, it is worth remembering that bestowing a name on a person is a sacred task. Names carry qualities of character with them. So when parents choose to name their child after a certain relative they carry that name, and the admirable characteristics they associate with it forward into the new generation.  

If you scan the JVO questions related to Israel you will find several variations on this theme. The general question regarding the appropriate boundaries in discussing Israel – as a private individual or as a community leader, as one concerned about aspects of Israel's policies or as one disturbed by the public pronouncements of others – can be complicated. The questions and responses found elsewhere on the JVO site will be instructive.

The NYTimes article you refer to can be found at http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/21/us/church-appeal-on-israel-angers-jewish-groups.html ). The statement by the 15 church leaders is particularly disturbing because it seems, according to news reports, to have also broken a long-standing conversation that existed between these leaders and various national Jewish leaders. I gather, without any direct knowledge, that there was a sense of betrayal felt by some Jewish leaders when this statement appeared.

Your question suggests that you are not a community leader who bears a particular obligation to represent the Jewish point-of-view to the general public, and I will frame my response on that assumption.

I believe there are a few avenues of action open to any concerned Jew.

1. Education begins at home – I understand the anger that one might feel about a statement such as this, but effective responses are based on knowledge more than emotion. So the most basic step is to be clear on your own grasp of the relevant facts. Continued reading, conversation and study on the situation of Israel and her neighbors is essential if one wishes to be heard in the public arena.

2. Community action – There are any number of agencies who work to present Israel's case to the American public. Your active support for any of these organizations that match your concerns and outlook allows you to have a voice in the public debate.

3. Political support for Israel – It is certainly possible and responsible to counter this appeal to Congress with one's own appeal. Calling your own congressional representative and signing on to any petitions (if they exist) supporting continued aid to Israel and/or a repudiation of this letter is an effective way to participate in this debate.

4. Dialogue – We have seen evidence in similar instances that the leaders may not reflect the beliefs of their followers. There were many local contacts made between the Jewish community and the Presbyterian Church USA regarding their move toward divestment, and the effect of local dialogue was decisive in the narrow vote to defeat the resolution. The continued honest dialogue between individuals can have a dramatic effect.

5. Confrontation – There are times when confrontation is crucial. The Torah describes a process for rebuke when one steps over a line of misconduct. The rules are complex, because you bear a similar responsibility not to shame the offender. Nonetheless it can be helpful to speak directly to the offender and to let them know in what ways their concerns have crossed the line. Would such an approach, change the mind of these leaders? Perhaps not in the short term, but it may serve to open direct or indirect lines of communication for the longer term. It also puts the disagreement into the public eye, encouraging others to take a stand.

Jewish life in contemporary America is complicated. The openness and freedom offered by our country allows Jews to make a myriad of choices on how they will live. Intermarriage is one challenging reality among many that we could list, but that is not the question.

I understand your decision not to attend weddings between Jewish and non-Jewish partners. We have limited ways to express our values on such issues and this is one way for you to take a public stand. I assume you are not insulting or mean in the way you decline such invitations, but have found a compassionate way to respond to the honor of the invitation.

I agree with you that the public stance that you take in avoiding such weddings is different from the decision to embrace your nephew and his new bride as members of your family. Your welcome to your nephew and his bride, including them within the circle of the extended family, is to be commended.

Your gift is given simply to acknowledge their wedding, but it may open doors to unexpected outcomes. You create the possibility that the new couple will find a comfortable spiritual home within the family circle. Perhaps they will choose to mark the holidays or choose other ways to make a Jewish home for themselves. Perhaps as time passes the bride will discover that Judaism offers an appealing option for her own spiritual life. None of that is possible if the door is shut.

I don't believe there is any “traditional” guidance that one can rely on in situations such as this. It is a matter of individual conscience. I commend you for grappling with the issue.

It is a sad situation. A marriage that once held hope for a couple has dissolved and a new relationship has emerged before the difficulties that beset the first were fully resolved. Do the parties to the marriage and the affair have a responsibility to resolve the outstanding issues before moving on?

This question was addressed to the Responsa committee of the CCAR (the Reform Movement's rabbinical organization) in 1986. The specific question asked if the rabbi who has received such a request should perform the wedding ceremony. The full responsa can be found at http://data.ccarnet.org/cgi-bin/respdisp.pl?file=192&year=carr .

The answer notes two sides to the question.

On one hand, there is a clear prohibition in classic sources on a marriage between an adulterer and their lover – regardless of whether the adulterer is male or female. The sources go on to note that a woman who commits adultery may not subsequently remarry her husband nor may she marry her lover, even after the death of her husband. These sources underscore the sacred nature of a marriage and refuse to acknowledge any legitimate union coming from a betrayal of that bond.

On the other hand, the sources recognize that there are times when a marriage takes place despite their disapproval. In that case the sources affirm the marriage as valid. There is no benefit in censuring or punishing the couple. After all, it is now a marriage in fact and one hopes that it may fulfill the hopes of the couple for a loving and sacred relationship.

Our question addresses the situation after the get, the formal divorce decree, has been issued. The unraveling and reweaving of these strands of relationship are complex and may have unexpected consequences. One hopes that the process that led to the divorce agreement included formal counseling and personal soul-searching. 

Last May the Ichud HaKehillos LeTohar HaMachane (Union of Communities for the Purity of the Camp) filled Citi Field for a sold-out men-only rally against the internet. According to the New York Times (May 17) one of the organizers defined the goal as “to raise awareness about how, unmonitored, it poses a grave risk to the community.” The issues raised include pornography but also social media and the addictive pull of the internet.

Let's be honest. Everyone knows that it is possible to get sucked into the internet. For some it is just a time waster as you surf looking for some distraction. For some it is a dangerous stumbling block leading people to watch pornography, to make illicit liaisons with others, to engage in gambling and more.

At the same time the internet is a powerful portal to learning and positive engagement with the world. A variety of orthodox institutions, including Chabad, Aish, Yeshiva University and many yeshivot, have elaborate websites promoting Torah learning and values. The internet can be a potent tool for positive learning, social action and community organizing.

From a Jewish point of view one can certainly highlight various values that deserve consideration when using the internet (or TV). Here are a two that come to mind:

• Tzniut, modesty. There is much in the media that can be enticing. By this I don't mean solely sexual images, but a variety of lures that can make one overdo by watching, spending, desiring and seeking more than one needs or can afford. I include in the notion of modesty an awareness of personal dignity, anything that lowers your sense of dignity should be avoided.
• Bittul z'man, wasting time. How often have you sat down to the computer for a few minutes, only to get up hours later? It is fun to surf the internet; to pursue a line of thought, to try to learn something new or to find the best bargain. But when media distracts you from work that you ought to be doing – for your employer, within your family and relationships, for your own betterment, or for your spiritual life – it needs to be reevaluated.

I cannot speak for an orthodox point of view, but from my perspective there is much positive to be gained from the use of modern technology. The challenge is to know yourself. If you need to exercise restraint, for whatever reason, then you need to find the ways to do so – but that is as true for the internet as it is for the aisles of Walmart or the allure of a casino. As always, the goal is to live a balanced life. 

As you can read in the responses of my Orthodox and Conservative colleagues, there is no Jewish tradition of gift giving that parallels our American practice. A review of the CCAR Responsa (responses to religious questions) finds no entry for gifts, even for Bar or Bat Mitzvah, birthdays or anniversaries. The few references in the Tanakh refer to mandated gifts to the poor or to the Temple and its officiants. The sole exception that comes to mind is the Purim custom of shlach manos, sending gifts to friends as well as the poor (Esther 9:22).

The Musar tradition does have something to say about the attitude with which one gives of oneself. Alan Morinis writes on the subject of generosity:

When you encourage your hand to open, you strengthen the quality of generosity in your heart. Jewish thought tells us that our spiritual lives center on relationships – between a person and his or her own soul, with other people and with God. Being generous enhances the key relationships in your life, even with yourself; it is actually a key process in creating those relationships. Give to whom you would love. (Every Day, Holy Day, pg 246)

Gift giving, one form of generosity, is a good practice as long as it is done with the proper intention.

There is a warning, however, given by the Sages. It is not a matter of expense or how elaborate the gift may be, rather it has everything to do with the thought behind it.

If a person gives to another all the good gifts of the world but does so with a grumpy demeanor, the Torah regards it as if he had given nothing. But if he receives his neighbor cheerfully and kindly, the Torah regards it as if he had given him all the good gifts of the world. (Avot D'Rabbi Natan, 23b)

I would add, that if the gift is given for an ulterior motive, to create some form of obligation on the part of the recipient, it is a questionable gift.

Contemporary social research agrees that there is a benefit to giving freely to others. A recent NYT article [“Don't Indulge. Be Happy.” Sunday Review, 7/8/12, pg 1 & 7] describes an experiment in which some people received $20 and a slip of paper telling them to spend the money on themselves by the end of the day. A second group received the $20 but were told to spend the cash on someone else. Which group was happier?

“It's not even close. When we follow up with people who receive cash from us, those whom we told to spend on others report greater happiness than those told to spend on themselves. And in countries from Canada to India to South Africa, we find that people are happier when they spend money on others rather than on themselves.”

As Alan Morinis noted in the citation above, giving enhances the key relationships in your life, even with yourself.

So give gifts to those whom you love. Let them be a free expression of your soul; a way to build the relationships that matter in your life.

Judaism teaches that one should not wantonly waste useful items, a basic principle known as bal tashkhit. It is based on a verse in Deuteronomy 20:19 which prohibits the cutting of fruit trees while beseiging a city for a prolonged period. The sages transformed its meaning very early and applied it to all aspects of life. The Talmud (Kiddushim 32a) teaches that “Whoever breaks vessels, or tears garments, or destroys a building, or clogs a well, or does away with food in a destructive manner violates the negative mitzvah of bal tashchit, do not destroy or waste.”

It is significant that this original teaching on bal tashkhit includes breaking vessels and tearing garments, both practices associated with mourning. These are actions one takes when informed of the death of an immediate relative, but the principle of bal tashkhit limits the amount of destruction one can do even in the hour of mourning.

This leads directly to the teaching of Maimonides (Mishneh Torah, Laws of Mourning 14:24) that one should donate clothing rather than destroy it. “One should be trained not to be destructive. When you bury a person, do not waste garments by burying them in the grave. It is better to give them to the poor than to cast them to worms and moths. Anyone who buries the dead in an expensive garment violates the negative command of bal tashkhit.” Clearly, based on these sources, it is proper to donate the clothing of a deceased person to tzedakah, charity.

But what about shoes. It took a bit of surfing around the internet to find any information about this. It is not in the Shulkhan Arukh, the premier code of Jewish law. It is not included in the various books on Jewish custom that I consulted. I finally found a responsum written by Rabbi David Golinkin in which he concludes, “this custom has no basis whatsoever in our classical sources and a person who follows it has transgressed the prohibition of 'bal tashhit'.” (http://www.responsafortoday.com/engsums/4_8.htm) It is an interesting responsum to read because he tries to uncover the sources for this odd custom.

The origin of the synagogue is shrouded in history. It may have formed as a place of communal gathering in the wake of the Babylonian Exile (586 BCE). It is known that synagogues existed alongside the Holy Temple in Jerusalem before its destruction by the Romans in 70 CE. Nonetheless it is not until after the Destruction that the synagogue becomes the central institution of Jewish communal activity and the stand-in for the Holy Temple.

Numerous passages support the idea that prayer is effective wherever it is recited, regardless of direction. Based on the verse in Nehemia 9:6 that “You alone are the Lord who made the heavens, the highest heavens,” Rabbi Oshaia teaches “that the Presence of God is in every place” (B. Baba Batra 25a). Similarly, based on the verse from Exodus (20:21), “In every place where I cause my name to be mentioned I will come to you and bless you,” the Talmud teaches that “even one who sits and engages with the Torah, the Shekhina (God's Presence) is with him.” (Berachot 6a) Again, Mishna Berachot 4:5 teaches that if one is in a place where it is not possible to distinguish direction, such as in a desert or at sea, one should direct their heart toward the Holy of Holies. These passages teach that prayer and Divine service are not dependent on the direction one faces.

The tradition that synagogues should face east is based on the Rabbinic understanding of two key passages: Daniel 6: 11 and I Kings 8:48.

The Jerusalem Talmud (Berachot Ch. 4, Halakha 1, Daf 29b) builds on a conversation between King Darius and Daniel. When the King says to Daniel 6:17), “May your God, whom you serve, deliver you,” the Talmud wonders if there was such service in Babylonian and affirms that effective prayer did take place in that foreign land. The Talmud then wonders about the details and asks, May one pray facing any direction he wishes? Scripture teaches, Daniel (6:11) “went to his house, where he had windows made facing Jerusalem, and three times a day he knelt down, prayed and made confession to his God, as he had always done.” From this passage the Sages learn that prayer can take place outside of the Land of Israel, that the prayers should be recited facing Jerusalem, and that a synagogue should have windows.

Solomon's prayer upon the completion of the Mikdash , the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, states that when the people are carried off to foreign lands, “they will pray to You in the direction of their land which You gave to their fathers, of the city You have chosen, and of the House which I have built to Your name.” (I Kings 8:48)

Tosefta Berachot 3:15 builds on this passage:

A blind person and one who cannot discern direction should direct their heart toward the Place [a name of God] and pray, as I Kings 8:48 says, “they shall pray to God.” If they were outside the Land of Israel, they should direct their hear toward the Land, as I Kings says, “they shall pray to God in the direction of their land,” And if in the Land, they should direct their hear toward Jerusalem, as our same passage says, “they shall prayer toward this city.” Those in Jerusalem pray toward the Bet HaMikdash [the Temple], “they shall pray to this House.” Those in the Bet HaMikdash direct their heart toward the Holy of Holies, “they shall pray to this place.” So those on the north faced south, those on the south faced north, those to the east faced west and those to the west faced east. All Israel prayed toward one place.

The implication may be that there is an ever increasing intensity as one moves closer to the site of the Holy of Holies, as one can sharpen the focus of their prayers.

When these passages suggest that one “directs their heart” toward a given place, does that mean that the prayers are traveling that path, or is it a meditative exercise to focus our minds toward God? Perhaps the effect is to place the Holy of Holies in our heart, not in a physical Jerusalem. Perhaps the goal is to get all of Israel praying toward one place, as the Tosefta teaches, with the effect that our global communal prayer multiplies the power of each individual prayer.

I would personally agree more with Rabbi Oshaia who taught that God who created the Highest Heavens is accessible from any place one prays. I believe that God hear my prayer directly, without either a human or a geographical intermediary.

Pets are beloved members of our families and the bond an owner feels may be as strong as any other relationship they have. When a pet dies, the mourning the owner feels can be very deep, so the desire for an appropriate memorial is understandable.

The widespread popularity of keeping pets is reasonably modern. Even though animals have been domesticated for centuries they were most often working members of the household rather than pets. Jewish tradition taught that one must look after their animals. The principle of tzaar ba'alei hayim, preventing pain to animals, mandated that one's animals should be fed before oneself. Nonetheless, classical Jewish texts do not know of or address the practice of keeping an animal as a pet.

Since the mid-1990's some Reform and Conservative synagogues have adopted the practice of blessing pets, often on the Shabbat when the story of Noah is read. The impetus seems to be a recognition that all creatures are God's creations and that these particular creatures with whom we share our homes and lives deserve blessing for what they add to our lives. For example, this prayer by Rabbi Robin Nafshi was cited in a blog posting in http://heebnvegan.blogspot.com/2009/12/jews-adopt-blessing-of-animals.html:

“Blessed are You, Holy Source, Maker of all living creatures. On the fifth and sixth days of creation, You called forth fish in the sea, birds in the air and animals on the land. We ask You to bless these animals; enable them to live fully in praise to Your Name. May we always praise You for all Your beauty in creation. Blessed are You, Eternal our God, for all of your creatures!”

These services highlight the depth of spiritual connection that many people feel. In the same blog posting Rabbi Michael Resnick commented that

he “was surprised at the amount of pastoral care” he did at his blessing of the animals. The event provided a unique opportunity to console a woman who felt guilty after her dog died while she was away and another attendee whose dog was nearing death. “The pets were simply a vehicle to reach the emotional core of some of the people,” he said.

Despite the lack of precedent, many people feel it is appropriate to do something to mark the passing of a beloved pet. A search of the internet turns up a variety of funeral services created over the last decade. Most of those who have commented on these services stress the distinction between pets and people. While a memorial may be appropriate, the specific recitation of Mourner's Kaddish is avoided. An article that includes a funeral service for a pet, first published in the CCAR Journal in 1998, frames the issue this way:

Although it is entirely appropriate and I would suggest important to create a ritual for the loss of a pet, it is not appropriate to incorporate our traditional mourning/memorial liturgy (i.e. Eil male rachamim and Kaddish) for this purpose. Although we love and adore our pets and they are significant members of our families, they are not human. It is important that we remain cognizant of the boundaries that do exist as a part of the natural world--raising up and honoring our creature companions without debasing the responsibilities, benefits and privileges that come with being human.

The full article, including the funeral service which is too long for this post, can be seen at http://huc.edu/kalsman/articles/Offel_WhenABelovedPetDies.pdf.

A Conservative-based website describes a sample pet funeral in this way:

There is nothing wrong with holding a memorial service where favorite photos, toys and memories are shared. Making a donation to an animal shelter in the pet’s memory is a form of tzedakah, righteous giving, and is a fitting way to remember a pet. Clal, the National Jewish Center for Learning and Leadership, has created a blessing for a pet memorial service. Notice that the blessing does not include a mention of God’s name. 
“Barukh atah she’lo chisar b’olamo davar.” 
Blessed are You in whose world nothing is lacking. It is filled with wonderful animals that bring joy and companionship to human beings. 


http://www.mazornet.com/DeathAndMourning/ConservativePet.html

The death of a beloved pet can be painful, the mourning deeply felt. Especially when children are involved it is an occasion to teach how one copes with loss and sorrow. The services and prayers cited above, and many more on the internet, can serve as a model for one who wishes to find an appropriate and meaningful way to memorialize their pet.

Abraham purchased the Cave of Machpela with the intent of creating a family burial plot. His example reminds us of the way we are supposed to care for our beloved family members. Based on a simple reading of that tale one would be inclined to agree that it is possible to consecrate private property as a burial site (ignoring for the moment that there may be local or state requirements regulating burial sites). Indeed the basic requirement is simply that a person be buried betokh shelo, one's own property. It would be misleading, however, to stop at that point. Both by custom and by halakha the requirements are more complicated.

Jewish communities have historically chosen to establish communal cemeteries, as well as to maintain communal structures to help prepare the deceased for burial (Hevra Kaddishas) and to care for the upkeep of the cemetery. Often the first act of a newly forming community is to establish a Beit Olam, an Eternal House as a cemetery is known. The Jewish Cemetery Association of Massachusetts website has a list, “What Makes a Jewish Cemetery Jewish?”. Among the items are: the site is set off by physical boundaries from its surroundings, it is consecrated ground, it has perpetual care, and it is closed on Shabbat.

A similar question to ours was addressed in the compilation of “Contemporary American Reform Responsa, #103 (http://data.ccarnet.org/cgi-bin/respdisp.pl?file=103&year=carr). The specific question was whether a family who lost a child could have the burial in their garden rather than in the congregational cemetery. This responsa notes that there is a history of family plots both in ancient and modern times. It goes on, however, to detail the various requirements which apply to any burial plot, based on Shulkhan Aruch, Yoreh Deah 364:1:

• the gravesite must receive permanent care

• the plot must remain in the family's possession permanently

• the area may not be used for joyful purposes

• one may not eat or drink or be festive near the plot.

The authors of this responsa note that in our mobile society it would be difficult to meet this standard.

There is another issue. Maurice Lamm, writing in “The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning”, notes that

The traditional attitude in Judaism did not encourage excessive grave visitation. The rabbis were apprehensive that frequent visitations to the cemetery might become a pattern of living rather than foster closure, thus preventing the bereaved from placing the death in proper perspective. (pg 193)

Having the gravesite on one's private property might be at odds with this traditional attitude.

If one feels that they can meet the standards noted above, they could theoretically establish a private burial ground; still the rituals involve the broader community. The rites detailed in HaMadrich, an Orthodox Rabbi's Manual, involve special prayers at the synagogue service and the participation of the local Hevra Kaddisha, the burial society. The service consists primarily of Psalms and other Biblical readings, circling the site 7 times, a Yizkor service, and gifts to tzedakah. The particulars of preparation and ritual may vary from community to community, so I would recommend that one consult a local rabbi for exact details.  

The chanting of the Torah is an ancient practice. There are lots of precedents and reasons offered, as you will see below. That said, there is also evidence that some communities may have opted to read instead of chant. In particular, the Reform Movement has a history of reading the Torah for public services. Here is a brief review of the data, pro and con.

Ezra introduced the practice of reading the Torah aloud, as we learn in the book of Nehemia. It is not known if the Torah was chanted in that period, although the chanting of sacred texts was a common practice in the ancient world. There are accounts that in ancient Alexandria the Torah was read with simultaneous translation, which suggests that it may have been read rather than chanted in that setting.

Based on a few passages in the Talmud it seems that chanting was the norm. B.Nedarim 37b records a debate regarding pay for one who teaches Torah to a child. Since you may not be paid for Torah study, the text suggests that the pay was for some associated task, such as teaching the cantillation. This provides evidence that the practice extends back to that time, and that it was a common component to the teaching of Torah for children. Rabbi Yochanan, a third century Palestinian Amora, asserts that chanting is so important that one who opted not to chant offended God. He taught that anyone who studied Torah or Mishnah without chanting the text conformed to the dark words of Ezekiel: "Moreover, I (God) gave them laws that were not good and rules by which they could not live" (Ezekiel 20:25; BT Megillah 32a).

Jacob Neusner, in Judaism's Theological Voice:The Melody of the Talmud, argues that from the very first moment at Mt. Sinai we hear God's voice as singing because that puts us dramatically in the present. Words can be read over and over, but music “comes into being at the moment of performance”, hence when we hear the Divine word chanted we recreate the experience of Mt. Sinai. He writes, “singing serves to transform secular study into sacred service.” Chanting, he asserts, transforms the experience of hearing Torah in a way that reading does not.

On the other side of the coin, a Responsa from the Central Conference of Reform Rabbis includes a history of reading the Torah at public services. (http://data.ccarnet.org/cgi-bin/respdisp.pl?file=153&year=carr) They note that “Israel Jacobson, the founder of the Reform Movement, sought to remove the cantillation along with other forms of music which had become distasteful, as for example, the singing of the cantor accompanied by a bass and a soprano, one standing on each side and harmonizing.” Rabbi Mark Washofsky notes in his book, Jewish Living (pg 28) that “Rabbi Isaac Meyer Wise expressly provides that 'the sections from the Pentateuch are read in a style agreeable to modern delivery...” I understand that to mean that reading or chanting is acceptable. There are many Reform congregations which prefer the reading of the Torah today.

Here are two reasons I have heard for why a community may prefer to read Torah. First, there may not be a qualified teacher who can help readers with the nuances of this art. It is not simply a matter of reading notes off a page, not an easy skill in its own right, but of being able to make the notes and the words fit appropriately. Second, there are many places where a simultaneous translation is offered alongside the reading and the two fit together better when the Torah is read. This practice helps the listener better understand the text that is being presented, adding an element of Torah study alongside that of Torah reading. For many places this is a desirable goal.

This brief history suggests that precedents exist for either reading or chanting the Torah during a public service. It does not, however, say that the decision resides with the individual. Different communities have different standards and when an individual or a family join that community they implicitly agree to abide by those standards. It would be disruptive if one who regularly attended services heard reading one week and chanting the next. Continuity adds to the spiritual impact of a service.

There are occasions when a student simply is incapable of learning certain prayers or chants. In those cases (rare in my experience) I would hope that a community would find a tactful way of accommodating the needs of that individual. Bar or Bat Mitzvah should not be an occasion for trauma or exclusion. Still, the decision should come from a dialogue that considers the needs of the student and the custom of the community.

My condolences to you. May the Holy One comfort you along with all who have suffered a loss.

It is wonderful that you have such a caring and supportive community of friends who are able to reach out to you in this time of need. It is no surprise that they seek to comfort you in the ways they know best, through the customs of their own families or communities. You don't say if there was any announcement shared that detailed the ways you would have desired such support to come, but that may or may not have made a difference. When tragedy strikes, people react instinctively. The customs they have learned become the model for the way they offer support.

You ask what you should do with their donations of money or flowers. First, express your gratitude, understanding the spirit in which their gift was given. This is not a moment to enlighten them about Jewish customs. Acknowledge their heartfelt expressions of consolation.

The flowers can certainly be displayed in some manner that would not be disruptive. I might spread them about the room rather than collecting them around the casket. If the donations of cash were given explicitly to help defray the cost of the funeral, you may certainly use them in that way. If you are not comfortable, accept them as a tzedaka (charity) offering and donate them as a memorial gift in your son's name to a cause that you feel is appropriate.

The recent murders in France are tragic. They testify to the persistence of antisemitism in our world, and the increasing incidence of antisemitic events throughout Europe. My heart goes out to the families of the victims and to their communities. Healing, to the extent that it is possible, will take time.

Your question implies several others. Let me try to address the various layers that I see in your query.

Your opening line suggests that living in France, by definition, poses an immediate danger to Jews. Antisemitism seems to be a fact of life in France as this quote from The Guardian asserts: “Like a sore that never completely heals, antisemitism erupts in France, which has the biggest Jewish community in Europe, with depressing regularity.” http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/mar/06/john-galliano-antisemitism-marais Unlike the latest murderous attack, these events are seldom violent. Would that serve as the impetus for an entire community to move?

You also seem to suggest that this may be a communal decision rather than an individual one. Certainly every individual bears a responsibility to “care carefully for your soul” (Deuteronomy 4:9), which in this instance would mean that anyone who feels it is no longer safe to live in a certain place should move to a safer location. Any person who looks at the political and social situation in which they live and determines that it cannot be safe, ought to leave. But this is a decision to be made by each individual and in each neighborhood. Does this latest event, or all of the events together, mean that all of France is unsafe? Does it mean that there is no possibility of a governmental or a societal effort to improve the situation?

I am not well versed on the particulars of the situation in France, so I cannot offer answers to these speculative questions. Before outsiders, myself included, make proclamations on the future viability of communal Jewish life in France, a close and reasoned study should be made.

If Jews decide to leave, as individuals or as a community, should they move to Israel? Perhaps, but there may also be reasons that any individual might choose to move instead to the United States or to join their fate with Jewish communities in other corners of the globe. There is no clear religious obligation that states that every Jew should relocate to Israel at this particular time or under a particular set of circumstances (such as when they face persecution elsewhere).

This persistent teaching about Purim needs to be understood in its broadest terms and not taken at face value. Drunkenness is not a Jewish value under any circumstances, though we do look positively on the use wine and alcohol in moderation and in appropriate settings. If the use of alcohol poses any danger, then the health and welfare of the individual always takes precedence. Someone who knows or suspects themselves to be alcoholic, or someone who is diabetic or has other medical conditions that would preclude the use of alcohol, should not take wine for kiddush, for the Passover seder or for Purim, opting for juice or water instead. Similarly, one should never try to force a person to take alcohol at any event.

What is the source of this tradition of drinking on Purim?

The Megillah describes the celebration of this day as a “time of feasting and joy” (simcha u'mishteh). One Talmudic sage, Rava, defines the threshold of our feasting as getting drunk beyond the point that one can distinguish between “cursed by Haman” and blessed be Mordecai.” The Talmud, however, immediately presents a horrifying story intended to balance (perhaps even dismiss) Rava's teaching. The story tells of Rabbah and R.Zeira getting so drunk that Rabbah beheads R. Zeira. When he returns to his senses Rabbah prays so intently that R. Zeira is revived, but that is enough for R. Zeira who declines the invitation to spend Purim with Rabbah the following year. The notion that one should get drunk beyond understanding is simply an opportunistic mis-reading of the tradition.

Rava's teaching has been interpreted in a variety of ways by different authorities. Maimonides significantly limits this teaching: “How does one fulfill the obligation of the Purim Seudah? One should eat meat and prepare as nice a meal as one can afford and drink wine until one becomes drunk and falls asleep from drunkenness.” (Laws of Megillah 2:15) In 2010 Rabbi Abraham Twerski wrote an article, found on the OU site, declaring that “drunk on Purim is not a mitzvah.” http://www.ou.org/shabbat_shalom/article/abraham_twerski_purim_letter/

Psalm 104 praises God for the nourishing wonders of the natural world, including wine: “Wine that cheers the human heart.” We use wine to mark sacred times and transitions. The presence of wine or other alcohol should not be confused with an endorsement of unbridled abuse. While Judaism is not an abstinent tradition, the value rests in the occasion – kiddush, the Passover seder, the wedding blessings – not in the wine itself. If someone abstains for personal or medical reasons, they may fulfill the obligation with grape juice instead.

In the Jewish community, as in the world at large, alcohol abuse is a serious problem. In recent years synagogues of all movements have developed Recovery teams to help support individuals in recovery and to let them know they have a spiritual home within the synagogue. Communities have also scheduled a Recovery Shabbat, often held near the holidays of Purim or Passover.

As one who meditates and who teaches meditation I appreciate your question. I have found that meditation enhances my Jewish life in a variety of ways. It allows me to enter more deeply into prayer. It gives me a way to dwell on my Jewish learning in a way that reveals layers of understanding I might otherwise miss. Most importantly, it gives me a regular place for spiritual retreat.

Chakras, like the sefirot, are a way to embody our spirituality, to map our spiritual energies onto the body. Since I do not believe that a Jewish soul is different from a non-Jewish soul, I do not believe that there is a necessary conflict between the language of chakras or sefirot.

I do believe that the sefirot allow us a way to embody not only our spirituality, but our moral values. For example, consider the pair of sefirot known as Din, strength, and Hesed, lovingkindness. These match one another both spiritually and in the ways we behave in the world. As we contemplate the ways these sefirot balance themselves in our spiritual life, we reshape our behavior in the physical world as well. Contemplating the sefirot connects the spirituality of the Hasidic world which celebrates the joy in our lives with that of the Musar movement which focuses on character development.

There are many sources available to help one better understand the various approaches to Jewish meditation. Aryeh Kaplan's books describe the connection between the sefirot and meditation in detail, particularly in Meditation and Kabbalah. Jay Michaelson, in his book God in Your Body, suggests ways to incorporate the sefirot into your meditation in his chapter on embodied emotions and in one on mirroring the Divine. His practical approach makes it easy to add this element to your meditation.

I wish you much success as you continue in your practice of meditation. 

This question likely stems from the recent news about Beren Academy, an Orthodox Day School in Texas, whose basketball team earned a place in the semifinals of the Texas Association of Private and Parochial Schools league. The school had been told that any games which fell during Shabbat would not be rescheduled. When they earned the slot in the semifinals, a game set for 9pm on Friday, the school and the players accepted the decision (meaning they would forfeit a game scheduled for Shabbat), but parents sued and eventually overturned the association's decision. The game was rescheduled and the team played (unfortunately losing the game).

The story does not precisely match the question. The appeal was not made by the school, but by individual parents. The individual schools in the league were, according to reports, very willing to accommodate the Shabbat observance of the school since many of them are also religiously based, though the association decided that it would stick to its original rules nonetheless. Indeed the tournament was scheduled with an eye to avoiding Sunday games in deference to those Christian teams that would not play on their Sabbath. It is also worth noting that the Association of Private and Parochial Schools is not state-sponsored, but is a private organization.

Nonetheless, the more generic question remains. Should Jews living in a secular society demand that the outside world accommodate their religious requirements? The answer depends.

According to Federal Equal Opportunity laws there are many instances in which employers and others providing public accommodations must consider the religious needs of their employees or their users, Jews included. An extreme case was Goldman v. Weinberger (1986) when the Supreme Court ruled that a Jewish Air Force officer could be denied the right to wear a kippah. The Court ruled that the Free Exercise clause of the Constitution applied less strictly to the military than to others. Congress, in turn, amended the law to read that “a member of the armed forces may wear an item of religious apparel while wearing the uniform of the member’s armed force.” In America we certainly have the opportunity to ask, even if we will not always prevail.

The question focuses on the limits of participating in a voluntary, secular organization. The key word, of course, is voluntary. The association has the right to set their own rules and to stand by them. They also have the right to negotiate, consider those whom they serve, and to make appropriate modifications. In the case of Beren Academy, the individual schools in the tournament were very willing to accommodate the needs of the Jewish school. If conditions had been different, if the request to modify the schedule would have caused unacceptable losses, the association is within its rights to hold the course and refuse to change. The Jewish organization, having known the situation from the first, would need to agree.

It strikes me that there is one more aspect to this question: should a Jewish organization (or individual) in a non-Jewish setting assert its (or his/her) religious particularity and difference in a public dispute? I feel there are two sides to this question. First, we always have the right to advocate for our needs within the society. Too often Jews were told to just be quiet and let it pass, and the effect was to feel that we were less deserving, less entitled to full participation in our society. Conversely, we should be equally willing to stand by our beliefs, to assert that our identity and our values are more important than outside issues, including a basketball game. Like many rabbis I have had parents explain their children's absence from Hebrew School by telling me how important various school or sports events were in the life of their child. I respectfully disagree and wish they would tell the coach or the teacher that their observance of the High Holy Days, or Passover, of Shabbat was a key value in the life of their family and it takes precedence.

Is it right to ask a non-Jewish organization to accommodate your needs? Certainly. Will you always win your case? No. And I hope in that moment you will stand by your Jewish values. 

When one receives the unwelcome news of a death in the family, our tradition prescribes the blessing, Blessed are You, Ruler of the Universe, who is the true judge. I suspect that most mourners do not focus on the meaning of these words. They stand before a rabbi, place the black ribbon over their heart, and, at his direction, tear the ribbon and recite the words. The meaning is found in the act more than the words.

What does that act represent? Many commentators suggest that this represents a statement of total acceptance. Despite the depth of our loss and the pain of our broken heart, we accept that God knows something of the rhythm of the cosmos that we cannot know.

I disagree. I believe that the act carries a different meaning, one that I believe is more compassionate.

Remember the setting. The mourner is tearing the clothing (or a ribbon) that covers the heart. The Talmud explains that one tears their clothing in order to expose the heart. With one's heart exposed before God and community, the words, Blessed be the True Judge, are recited. Rabbi Joel Wolowelsky (The Mind of the Mourner, OUPress, 2010) explains that the keriyah, the tearing of the clothing, may allow “emotions that may border on frightening rage to be expressed as controlled, healthy anger. It both permits the bereaved to express these feelings and teaches that it is neither uncommon nor uniquely wicked to have them.” (pg. 13) In practice, the blessing is linked with this cathartic act.

The blessing first appears in Mishnah Berachot, ch 9:2, where is is prescribed for any report of bad tidings. It is found among a list of blessings, including those for wonders of nature, such as earthquakes, lightnings, mountains and seas, deserts and more, all evidence of God's Presence and power. Note that the list does not qualify these acts of nature as good or bad – tornados and earthquakes are not good, but they do testify to the power in God's creation. I read our blessing, Blessed be the True Judge, in the same way. In the presence of death, filled with a range of emotions (including anger), I cannot understand anything more than my loss at the hand of some power beyond my control. I can, if I must, acknowledge the power, even if I cannot endorse it at that moment. Even in my grief, I can note God's Presence.

I do not believe we recite this blessing as a theological affirmation. Rather, at this dark hour when we feel the loss deep within our being, this blessing asserts God's Presence alongside the mourner. We are not abandoned, though we feel very much alone. We are not without consolation, though it is hard to hear any words. God stands with us as we face the mystery of death.

If only I could offer a definitive answer to that question!  From the very beginning our Sages wondered about God’s origin.  They asked:  Why does the Torah begin with the letter bet, the second letter of the alefbet, rather than alef, the first letter.  The explicit answer, that we cannot ask about what exists before, above or below, has to do with the shape of the letter which is closed on three sides and open only on the front.  The implied answer is that we cannot go searching beyond what we can know – including God’s origins in the worlds before us or beyond us.  Our concern is with what awaits us.  But if our Sages thought that would resolve the question, they were wrong.