Unlike any other Jewish Holiday or Shabbos meal, which is always highlighted by a main course of meat or chicken, customarily, the festive meal of Shavuos is dairy, and only afterward do we eat deli. Although there are various reasons for this, this class will explain the spiritual and psychological idea behind this custom, based on the Kabbalistic and Chassidic symbolism of meat and milk.

We will also explore the laws of the prohibition against eating meat and dairy products together, and the reason for waiting six hours after eating meat before eating dairy, but not the reverse. The class also explains the deeper reason for the Jewish custom of staying up on the night of Shavuos. The reason given is that Jews went to sleep on that night, and we are rectifying their behavior. But why would they go to sleep on such an exciting night?

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22_source sheet hebrew english dairy shavuos 5775.pdf

21_rabbi_yy_jacobson_sunday_class_05172015.mp4

21_rabbi_yy_jacobson_sunday_class_05172015.mp3

gevurah

chesed

shavuos dairy

dairy

cheescake

sleep

milk and meat

basar bechalav

Heaven Quarreled With Earth Who Should Receive Torah; the Meat-After-Milk Diet Determined the Verdict

Shavuos/Vayeira Class

Why the Cheesecake? Why No Sleeping?

The Experiment

It is an incredible story.

14&nbsp;years ago, an intriguing experiment made the news. The experiment – arranged by the Washington Post to study how people react to unexpected, out-of-context art – called for Joshua Bell, the Jewish world-renowned violinist, to stand in a Washington D. C. subway and play classical music.

It was a Friday morning, January 12, 2007.&nbsp;Bell played for about 45 minutes, during which time more than a thousand people passed by. Ordinarily, when Bell gives a recital, he earns about a thousand dollars a minute (not bad for a nice Jewish boy).

How many people, do you think, stopped to hear the brilliant music? How many people were moved by the masterful renditions of Joshua Bell?&nbsp; 0.006 percent of the people who passed by paused to absorb the magic.

In the three-quarters of an hour that Joshua Bell played, seven people stopped what they were doing to hang around and take in the performance, at least for one minute. Twenty-seven gave money, most of them on the run. Throughout the entire time, there was never a crowd, not even for a second. In the 45 minutes he played in the subway, only 27 out of the 1,075 passersby threw a donation into his violin case, netting him a grand total of $32.

In its aftermath, scores of articles were written about the experiment, and all kinds of questions were asked. Have we grown so superficial as to not appreciate art without a frame? Beauty without PR? Is there really no truth left if it is not "advertised" as such?

Why would people shell out upwards of hundred dollars a ticket to hear Josh Bell play and not stop to listen when the music was free? Is it all part of our herd mentality – if we aren’t told something is good, we cannot realize it is good?

When you watch the video of the event, it is sad. It is sad to observe the opportunities that slip through our hands never to return; the rush of life which sucks up the essence of life itself.

The Taxi

In a wonderful article in Ami magazine,<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref1')" id="_edn1" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftnref1">[1]</a> Roizy Waldman highlighted a trivial detail that the Washington Post mentioned. Bell, the paper reported, took a taxi from his hotel to the subway station, merely three blocks, because his violin was too expensive to risk walking with on the street. What kind of violin was this to merit such care and protection?

As it turns out, the writer explains, the answer to this question leads us not only to the story of the violin, but also to a story about courage, perseverance, and the making of history.

The Story of Bronislaw Huberman 

<figure class="image" style="float:right"><img alt="Bronislaw Huberman playing his Strad" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/theyeshivacnd-d/content/itemcoverpics/default/7205_theviolinthatwitnessedhistory.d670.jpg" style="margin: 20px; width: 500px; height: 291px;">
<figcaption>Bronislaw Huberman playing his Strad</figcaption>
</figure>

The story leads us to the previous owner of the violin, another Jew by the name of Bronislaw Huberman.

Born in 1882 to a secular Jewish family in Poland, Bronislaw Huberman’s musical genius was discovered early. At that time, classical music was the music that mattered. He gave his first public concert at the age of 7. When Bronislaw was 11, he garnered the support of arts patron Count Zamoyski of Paris, who gave young Bronislaw a gift of a Stradivarius violin.

A Stradivarius is an instrument made by Antonio Stradivari, an Italian craftsman born in 1644. During his lifetime – he died in 1737 – he crafted more than 1,100 instruments. Of those, 540 violins, 50 cellos, and 12 violas still exist today. A “Strad” (as it is called in short) produces the most magical tones, unequaled by any other stringed instrument. An ordinary violin you can buy for 70 dollars; a Strad sells today for 5 to 20 million dollars.

(Though many have attempted to reproduce the exact sound, none have succeeded yet. Over the years, music historians and researchers have come up with various theories about why a Stradivarius produces such exceptional sounds. Some claim it’s the wood Stradivari used; others say it’s the varnish, and still others believe it’s the waters of Cremona, the city where Stradivari lived. While others say it is all fantasy. Yet it still sells for millions.)

The Stradivarius gifted to Huberman by Count Zamoyski was crafted by Stradivari in 1713 (the Baal Shem Tov was 15 at the time; George Washington, l’havdil, was not born yet), making it more than three hundred years old now. He soon became one of the greatest violinists in Europe. Playing in the world-renowned Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, Huberman became world-famous.

But then darkness descended. The Nazi Regime came to power. “The true artist,” Huberman once said, “does not create art as an end in itself; he creates art for human beings. Humanity is the goal.” And he lived up to his words. In 1933, as Hitler took control of Germany, Jewish musicians who’d been employed for years by the prestigious Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra suddenly found themselves jobless. Each month, Hitler ordered more and more Jewish musicians to be fired, and no other orchestra was allowed to hire them. However, to preserve his reputation among foreign countries, Hitler tried to retain a handful of the most famous Jewish musicians in the orchestra. One of the musicians he was persuaded to keep was Bronislaw Huberman.

The orchestra’s conductor, Wilhelm Furtwängler, sent Huberman a personal offer of employment. He would be from the few Jews allowed to remain. But Huberman refused and even issued a public letter denouncing Nazism.

But he did something else truly remarkable—and for this, he shall always be remembered, not only as a great violinist but as a great human being and a glorious Jew. Realizing that Jews will face danger in Germany, he created, for the first time ever, the Palestine Symphony Orchestra, inviting all the victimized Jewish musicians to join. In order to be granted entry, refugees had to demonstrate that their prospects of earning a living were strong. The soon-to-be Palestine Symphony Orchestra ensured that these refugees would be gainfully employed.

Huberman insisted that the musicians could only emigrate if they were accompanied by their spouses, siblings, children, and parents, and so managed to snag certificates for all of them. Unlike many who believed that this European anti-Semitic wave would soon pass, just as earlier anti-Semitic waves had, Huberman believed that Jews were no longer safe in Europe. He worked tirelessly to rescue as many people as he could from the Nazi&nbsp;clutches. He ensured the British government that he’d employ many more people than he possibly could.

While Huberman was struggling to persuade cultured musicians to make their home in a virtual desert, while he toiled to procure their visas, while he dissembled to the government in an effort to wrest more and more Jews away from Europe’s ever-increasing perilous situation, he also had to put together the orchestra itself. Money was needed. The musicians’ morale had to be maintained. A venue had to be found, a conductor procured.

On the latter front, Huberman lucked out. Italian Arturo Toscanini, one of the most renowned conductors in Europe, agreed to conduct the orchestra’s first few performances. Toscanini, who wasn’t Jewish, was a special soul, who despised Nazism and Fascism. He courageously spoke out against the Nazis and Fascists even at the cost of his personal safety. In fact, after one such outburst, a group of Fascists beat him bloody. But he refused to be silenced.

Toscanini traveled to Israel (then Palestine) in 1936 to train the orchestra and ready them for their first performance. In keeping with his idealism, he declined payment for his work, even paying for his travel expenses himself. “I had to show my solidarity,” he said. “It is everyone’s duty to help in this cause according to one’s means.”

Toscanini cemented the orchestra’s reputation. He was held in such high regard that as soon as it became known that he would be the orchestra’s conductor, fund-raising become easy, musicians clamored to become part of the orchestra, and people bought tickets to the concerts. In no time, nine concerts – in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, Haifa, Cairo and Alexandria – were sold out.

“One has to build a fist against anti-Semitism,” Huberman once said. “A first-class orchestra would be that fist.”

The first concert took place on December 26, 1936, in Tel Aviv. Crowds of people who couldn’t get tickets stood outside the windows and climbed up onto the roof to be able to hear the gorgeous music. When the concert was over, the audience gave the musicians a standing ovation that lasted close to thirty minutes—unheard of in the history of concertos.

Indeed, a first-class orchestra it became! The Palestine Symphony Orchestra toured the entire world, wowing audiences with their beautiful performances. In 1948, when the United Nations recognized Israel as a country, the orchestra changed its name to the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, which plays to this very day. Huberman died a year earlier, in 1947.

The Stolen Violin

But the story is not over.

On February 28, 1936, Huberman came to New York to give a recital at Carnegie Hall. Huberman always carried a double violin case, in which he kept his expensive Strad and another cheaper violin.

That night Huberman chose to play the second half of his concert on his “other violin,” a Guarneri del Gesu. In the middle of the performance, the Strad was stolen from his dressing room. When the theft was discovered, the police were called while Huberman tried not to panic, continuing optimistically with his encores. The instrument had previously been stolen in 1919 from a hotel room in Vienna but was recovered days later when the thief tried to sell it. This time, Huberman was not so lucky.

Heartbroken, Huberman never saw his Stradivarius again. However, his great dream was fulfilled when the new Palestine Orchestra made its debut in December 1936 with the great Toscanini on the podium.

50 years passed. It is now 1985. A New York Violinist, Julian Altman, was diagnosed with stomach cancer. As he lay dying, he called his wife to his deathbed and told her he had stolen the violin from Huberman’s room at Carnegie Hall back in 1936. Altman soon died.

His wife eventually returned the violin to Lloyd’s of London and received a finder’s fee. The instrument underwent a nine-month restoration by J&amp;A Beare Ltd., which noted it was like “taking dirt off the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.”

The violin was soon sold to a British violinist, for 1.2 million dollars. In 2001, Joshua Bell paid almost four million dollars for the violin.

“This violin is special in so many ways,” Bell said at a recent concert.<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref2')" id="_edn2" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftnref2">[2]</a> “It is overwhelming to think of how many amazing people have held it and heard it. When I perform in Israel with the Israel Philharmonic, I am always touched to think how many of the orchestra and audience members are direct descendants of the musicians Huberman saved from the Holocaust — with funds raised by concerts performed on the very same instrument I play every day. Who knows what other adventures will come to my precious violin in the years to come? While it certainly will be enjoyed and admired long after I am not around anymore, for the time being, I count myself incredibly lucky to have been its caretaker on its 300th birthday.”

Now, I understood why Joshua Bell took a taxi from the hotel to the subway station in Washington; he did not want to take chances with Huberman’s Stradivarius.

A Parable for Judaism

It is a magnificent story. But, in my mind, it is also a parable for the story of our people from Sinai till today. Does it not capture the essence and theme of Simchas&nbsp;Torah?

Thousands of years ago, at the foot of Sinai, we were given a “Strad violin,” an instrument to generate the most exquisite music the world has ever heard—music for our souls, for our homes, for our communities, and for our world. “Your laws have been symphonies for me,” King David sings in Psalms. Life is a powerful symphony and you can contribute your sonata. The objective of Judaism is to allow each person, and each creature, to express their deepest music. It sees each of us as a “violin,” capable of producing our unique ballad. In the famous words of 12th-century&nbsp;Spanish poet Rabbi Judah Halevi (which made their way into the song Jerusalem of Gold) “ani kenor lesherayich,” I am a violin to your melodies.<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref3')" id="_edn3" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftnref3">[3]</a>

And just as the chords of a violin must be tied down to allow the music to play, Torah mitigates and restricts certain behaviors, not in order to tie us down, but rather to allow our music to play.

Our violin—our Strad—has endured a lot. Just like Huberman’s violin, our violin too was exiled, stolen, and almost disappeared. Our faith and our Torah came close to extinction, through Nazi and Soviet genocide on one hand, and mass assimilation on the other.&nbsp;

But the unpredictable happened. The violin was recovered—and today it plays in Jewish homes and communities all across the globe. We have “Joshua Bells” all across the world playing that ancient violin, with splendor, beauty, and exquisiteness. Judaism has experienced a renaissance. Jews are studying Torah; celebrating Mitzvos and living a Jewish life. On Simchas Torah, millions of our people the world over will dance with our Divine "violin."&nbsp;&nbsp;

Yet, so often the music can be playing right near us, yet we ignore it. We can have one of the greatest violinists on the subway playing the most beautiful ballads, but we are too busy, too stressed, too rushed, too lazy, too callous, too overwhelmed to even stop and take it in.

We were given the Torah—the most time-tested violin, not 300 years old, but 3333&nbsp;years old. And it produces the most profound music—not only classical music to enrich the spirit, but Divine music to give meaning to life, to offer depth, hope, vitality, spirituality, purpose to life; Divine music to keep families together, marriages fresh, intimacy alive; Divine music to be able to find happiness and joy in a world of chaos, fear, anxiety, depression, and confusion; Divine music to offer perspective, vision, wisdom, guidance in a time of moral ambivalence; Divine music that allowed us to stay the course and thrive over three millennia, despite endless challenges and savage suffering.

The music is right here, right now. But we can just pass by and ignore it. Not because we are bad, but simply because we are in a rush or we are just too entrenched in our comfort zones.

On Simchat Torah, we dedicate a day to dance with our eternal and sacred Torah. “Sisu V’simchu B’Simchat Torah,” rejoice and celebrate with the joy of the Torah.

Take pause and celebrate the music which has allowed our souls to soar and touch heaven, every day, every moment.

Happy Simchat Torah!<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref4')" id="_edn4" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftnref4">[4]</a>

______________________________

<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn1')" id="_ednref1" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftn1">[1]</a> Here is a link to her article, much of which I copied in the subsequent story: <a href="https://www.aish.com/ci/s/The-Violin-that-Witnessed-History.html">https://www.aish.com/ci/s/The-Violin-that-Witnessed-History.html</a>

<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn2')" id="_ednref2" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftn2">[2]</a> <a href="https://csosoundsandstories.org/how-a-once-lost-stradivarius-found-its-way-to-joshua-bell/">https://csosoundsandstories.org/how-a-once-lost-stradivarius-found-its-way-to-joshua-bell/</a>

<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn3')" id="_ednref3" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftn3">[3]</a> The Baal Shem Tov teaches that Halacha is the acronym of “Hareoo L’Hashem Kal Haaretz,” "let the whole earth sing to G-d.” For the function of Halacha, Jewish law, is to synchronize our lives with the symphony of nature.

<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn4')" id="_ednref4" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftn4">[4]</a> I have used these sources for the story: 
<a href="https://www.aish.com/ci/s/The-Violin-that-Witnessed-History.html">https://www.aish.com/ci/s/The-Violin-that-Witnessed-History.html</a> 
<a href="https://csosoundsandstories.org/how-a-once-lost-stradivarius-found-its-way-to-joshua-bell/">https://csosoundsandstories.org/how-a-once-lost-stradivarius-found-its-way-to-joshua-bell/</a> 
<a href="https://rhapsodyinwords.com/2015/08/24/the-astonishing-300-year-history-of-the-gibson-ex-huberman-stradivarius/">https://rhapsodyinwords.com/2015/08/24/the-astonishing-300-year-history-of-the-gibson-ex-huberman-stradivarius/</a> 
<a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/style/wp/2014/10/14/gene-weingarten-setting-the-record-straight-on-the-joshua-bell-experiment/">https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/style/wp/2014/10/14/gene-weingarten-setting-the-record-straight-on-the-joshua-bell-experiment/</a>

Twelve years ago, an intriguing experiment made news. The experiment &ndash; arranged by the Washington Post to study how people react to unexpected, out-of-context art &ndash; called for Joshua Bell, world-renowned violinist, to stand in a Washington D. C. subway and play classical music. In the 45 minutes he played in the subway, only 27 out of the 1,075 passersby threw a donation into his violin case, netting him a grand total of $32.

When I initially read about this experiment, I noticed a trivial detail. Bell, the Post claimed, took a taxi from his hotel to the subway station, a distance of merely three blocks, because his violin was too expensive to risk walking with on the street. What kind of violin was this to merit such care and protection?

As it turns out, the answer to this question leads us not only to the story of the violin, but also to a story about courage, perseverance, and the making of history. The story leads us to the previous owner of the violin, a Jew by the name of Bronislaw Huberman. He was one of the greatest violinists in Europe before the war, Hitler allowed him to stay in Berlin, but instead he went on to create the Philharmonic Orchestra of Israel.

It is a magnificent story. But is it not also an appropriate parable for our entire people and our entire narrative from Sinai till today? Does it not capture the essence and theme of Simchat Torah? Thousands of years ago, at the foot of Sinai, we were given a &ldquo;Strad violin,&rdquo; an instrument to generate the most exquisite music the world&mdash;music in our souls, in our homes, in our communities and in our world.

7205_joshua_bell.a712.jpg

stradivarius

simchas torah

strad

simchat torah

huberman

joshua bell

antonio stradivarius

violin

bronislaw huberman

The Story of a Stradivarius which Escaped Nazism

Simchas Torah/Shavuos Essay

Joshua Bell’s Violin—and the Music of Jewish History

Rabbi YY Jacobson&nbsp;presented this class about Shavuos,&nbsp;on Erev Shavuos, Thursday Morning, 5 Sivan, 5780, May 28, 2020.

This is a text based class on a sicha by the Lubavitcher Rebbe, in Likkutei Sichos Vol 4.

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22_sicha_shavuos_vol_4_full.77cd.pdf

21_7537_rabbi_yy_jacobson_sicha_shavuos_vol_4_5780.a863.mp4

21_7537_rabbi_yy_jacobson_sicha_shavuos_vol_4_5780.a863.mp3

shavuos

staying up shavuos

Why Were the Mosquitoes So Respectful of Their Sleep?

Likkutei Sichos Shavuos

How Could the Jews Go to Sleep on That Night?

Rabbi YY Jacobson presented this text-based shiur in Likkutei Sichos vol. 6 Parshas Yisro, a Sicha by the Lubavitcher Rebbe presented on Shavuos 5726-1966.

The class was presented to the Beis Shmuel congregation, Brooklyn, NY, before Shavuos 5774/2014.

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20_sicha_hen_lav_vol_6.b473.pdf

19_vol_6_yisro____hen_hen_lav_lav_edited_by_levin_edited.43f9.mp3

martyrdome

reb akiva

reb yishmael

seeing the sounds

hearing

What Does It Mean to See the Voices? 

Likkutei Sichos Yisro/Shavuos

Reb Yishmael & Reb Akiva Debate the Purpose of Torah

There is a fascinating teaching in the Talmud: By bringing joy to a bride and a groom, which Jeremiah described in five voices, we merit the wisdom of Torah which was also transmitted via five voices. 

But this does not seem to make sense. What is the connection between the two? Also, what are these voices, or sounds? And why five?

Is it possible that an idea introduced to our world only in 1995 was being intimated in the Talmud 1700 years earlier?

Gary Chapman is a renowned marriage therapist. After many years of counseling it was obvious to him that couples were missing each other when one would say, &ldquo;I feel like he/she doesn&rsquo;t love me.&rdquo; And the other would say, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what else to do. I try to show her that I love her.&rdquo; He heard this pattern over and over again. He noticed that the trust, passion, excitement in so many relationships has eroded, because deep down there was a lack of love. So, he went through 12 years of notes that he had made when counseling couples and asked the question: When someone said, I feel like my spouse doesn&rsquo;t love me, what did they want?&nbsp; What were they complaining about? Their answers fell into 5 categories. He called them the 5 love languages; five ways that people speak and understand emotional love.

Is it not, then, fascinating, that the Torah described a marriage as consisting of &ldquo;five voices.&rdquo; A voice represents a &ldquo;language,&rdquo;&nbsp;a form of communication. A good marriage is comprised of all five voices. 

The Torah is also given in &ldquo;five voices.&rdquo;&nbsp;The giving of the Torah was a marriage&mdash;between the Creator and creation. How do we marry G-d? How is it possible for two completely separate worlds to meet? This is where the kolos come in, the &ldquo;sounds&rdquo;, the &ldquo;voices&rdquo;; the only way to reach out across infinity to truly connect with another, to initiate any relationship, is through the extraordinary gift of communication. The kol, then refers to communication. And, just as in a marriage, there are &ldquo;five love languages,&rdquo;&nbsp;five voices that make up the body of Judaism.

7538_five_language_of_love.2ea3.jpg

love

five love languages

Words of Affirmation; Spending Quality Time; Giving Gifts;Acts of Service; Physical Touch

Shavuos Essay 

The Five Love Languages of Judaism

He was one of the most brilliant men of the Tanach, and one of its most tragic personalities. In his prime time he was considered the greatest Jew of his era, yet he ended up killing himself.

The Talmud tells us: Three things did Achitofel command his children before his passing: 1. Do not enter into quarrels. 2. Do not rebel against the sovereignty of David. 3. If the weather is clear on the holiday of Shavuot, plant wheat.

If these are his dying words surely they must contain his greatest and most profound insights gleaned from a lifetime rich in experience. What is the significance of these three ideas that warrant the fact that they are his last charge to his children? What is their underlying unifying theme? How do these three statements sum up his life?

Also, what does he mean, &ldquo;If the weather on Shavous is clear, plant wheat?&rdquo; Was this simple agricultural advice? If yes, what does it mean? And why did he decide to say it now moments before his death?

In a letter on the eve of Shavauos 1949, the Lubavitcher Rebbe offered a brilliant and extraordinary explanation.

2443_praising-god (1).jpg

1025_achitofelacf.pdf

dovid

shavuot

Before His Suicide, The Wisest Jew of His Era Offered Three Life-Altering Messages

Shavuos Essay

The Shrewdest Jew's Last Will and Testament

The Grand Debate

Let me explore a fantastical and enigmatic story in the Talmud.

Some 1900 years ago, during the first century CE, only a few years after the destruction of the second Temple by the Romans in the year 70 CE, a great debate took place between the Jews and the Greeks.

The Talmud<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn1" name="_ednref1" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref1')">[1]</a> recounts the fascinating confrontation that occurred between the Wise Men of Athens and the great sage of Israel, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananya. Athens was known in the ancient world as the seat of wisdom and philosophy, and its sages saw themselves as the representatives of progressive thinking. Amongst the sages of Israel, Rabbi Yehoshua stood out as the sharpest and most quick-witted, a fearsome debater and a brilliant scholar, though to earn a livelihood he would sell charcoal.<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn2" name="_ednref2" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref2')">[2]</a>

He was a Levite who played music back in the Second Temple<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn3" name="_ednref3" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref3')">[3]</a> (the Levites would perform a daily morning concerto in the Temple), and witnessed its destruction. In the following decades, one of the worst periods in all of our history, Rabbi Yehoshua served as the most prominent spokesman for Judaism.<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn4" name="_ednref4" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref4')">[4]</a>

When the Roman Caesar demanded to test who was wiser—the Jews or the Greek philosophers—Rabbi Yehoshua was the clear choice to represent the Torah of Israel.

A Conflict of Riddles

Sixty sages of Athens challenged the lone Jewish sage and the battle of wits began. The Talmud records the back and forth dialogue between these sages, that took the form of a cryptic exchange of riddles. The Athenian scholars would throw a challenge in front of Rabbi Yehoshua, and the Jewish sage would come back with an answer each time, usually in the form of a counter-question. Part of the exchange went like this.

בכורות ח, ב: ורצוצא דמית מהיכא נפיק רוחיה? מהיכא דעל נפק.

The sages of Athens asked: "If a chick dies while in the egg, before the egg is hatched [and it is sealed from all sides], from where does its soul escape?" Rabbi Yehoshua's response: "The soul escapes through the same place it entered [into the sealed egg]."

Here is another one:

משרא דסכיני במאי קטלי? בקרנא דחמרא! ומי איכא קרנא לחמרא? ומי איכא משרא דסכיני?

They further asked, "How do you harvest a field of knives?” Rabbi Yehoshua answered: "You use a donkey's horn." The elders: "But donkeys do not have horns!" Rabbi Yehoshua: "And knives do not grow in fields!"

Each one of these exchanges—and there were many of them—begs explanation. What do these bizarre questions really mean, and what lies behind the answers?

The various Talmudic commentaries agree that the conversations between the Rabbi and the Greeks were allegorical. They were discussing lofty issues of the spirit, the meaning of life and death, G-d's role in the universe, human destiny, the meaning of existence, the concept of the “chosen people,” the cardinal principles of Judaism. They spoke in symbolic terms.

Salting Salt 

Today I want to discuss the one of their other seemingly absurd exchanges.

מילחא כי סריא, במאי מלחי לה? אמר להו בסילתא דכודניתא. ומי איכא סילתא לכודנתא? ומילחא מי סרי?

They asked him, "When salt gets spoiled, what do we use to preserve it?" His response: "We use the afterbirth of a mule." (This is the embryonic sac which shelters and preserves the developing fetus.) "Do mules have an afterbirth?" they asked. [A mule cannot give birth.] "Does salt spoil?" he retorted. 

Is this an intelligent conversation between the representatives of the house of Socrates, Plato and Aristotle, with the representative of Judaism?

In truth, this exchange symbolized a profound debate—one that endured for thousands of years and continues to this very day. It deals with the important question: What is the relevance of Torah and Judaism in the modern world?<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn5" name="_ednref5" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref5')">[5]</a>

Time to Update the Religion

When the Elders of Athens spoke about salt, they were referring to Torah, the preservative of the Jewish People. They considered this preservative to be spoiled; they argued that it had become rancid, obsolete and irrelevant.

Judaism, the Greeks maintained, was old; it needed a tune-up. After all, those were the glorious days of Greek culture, and even many Jews were seeing the Torah as being old-fashioned. Rather than observe Shabbos, they wanted to join the Greek Gymnasiums. Rather than study Torah, they wanted to study Greek philosophy. Rather than sit in a Sukkah, shake a lulav or put on tefilin and daven, they gravitated to Zeus and Olympus, to Homer and Plato.

It was time, said the Elders of Athens, to alter Judaism to ensure its popularity. Judaism was ready for an upgrade, to make it more fresh, exciting and relevant to a new age inspired by Greek esthetics, philosophy, culture, athleticism, art, drama and literature. Mikvah, tefilin, kosher, Torah study, Torah education, Shabbos candles, Mezuzah, a ram’s horn on Rosh Hashanah, crunchy matzah, the laws of modesty, and the 613 Mitzvos of Torah would not cut it. In one word, the salt needs to be salted.

The Mule

Rabbi Yehoshua replied that they should use the afterbirth of a mule. It was a brilliant reply. What is a mule? The hybrid offspring of a female horse and a male donkey. At first sight, a mule seems like an awesome animal: it is strong, sure-footed, more resistant to disease, and long-lived. By taking elements of the donkey and of the horse, we seem to have the best of both worlds. It has been claimed that mules are "more patient, sure-footed, hardy and long-lived than horses, and they are considered less obstinate, faster, and more intelligent than donkeys."<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn6" name="_ednref6" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref6')">[6]</a> What a powerful combination. It’s just like a Hellenized, modernized Judaism – hybridizing the two cultures in order to have the best of both worlds.

But mules can’t breed; they are sterile.

Rabbi Yehoshua was conveying this message: If you try to alter Judaism, to “update” it and combine it with the latest fads, it will look great, it will doubtless be popular, the new show in town. But it won’t endure. It’s not authentic and it can’t perpetuate. When the sages of Athens explained to him that mules are sterile, Rabbi Yehousha responded, that salt cannot go rancid. Torah, the preservative of the Jewish People, will continue to preserve them, as long as it is left pure and unadulterated.

Torah is salt and salt does not get rancid. It will endure forever, because it is rooted in the source of all life and history. Torah is always relevant because its truths span and pervade all cultures, milieus, and circumstances. When we attempt to present a new Judaism, less ancient and more modern, it may be appealing for the short term, but it will prove sterile in the long term. It will not last. The grandchildren will be lost.

The Results

Who was right?

1900 years later, we know the answer. Samuel Clemens, popularly known as Mark Twain, famously wrote: "The Egyptian, the Babylonian, and the Persian rose, filled the planet with sound and splendor, and then passed away. The Greek and the Roman followed. The Jew saw them all, beat them all, and is now what he always was, exhibiting no decadence, no infirmities of age, no weakening of his parts. All things are mortal but the Jew; all other forces pass, but he remains. What is the secret of his immortality?"

What is more, all movements within Judaism which have advocated (as a philosophy) that we alter the Torah and its mitzvos, in order to make it more appealing to the youth, have proved sterile. Perhaps they had good intentions, they wanted to preserve Judaism, but their preservatives have proven counter-productive: You don’t try to preserve salt with superficial preservatives. Salt itself is its own best preservative!

The secret of Judaism lay not in the fact that it addresses the fad of the day, that it accommodates the political sentiment of the hour; the true power of Judaism lay in the fact that it addresses the transcendent needs, yearnings and passions of the human being, truths that transcend a particular time or location; aspirations that are eternal.

Shabbas refreshed souls and sanctified homes 3,000 years ago, and it still does so today; tefilin synchronized minds and hearts to our mission in life 2000 years ago and it still does so today; mikvah gave intimacy its holiness and freshness 1000 years ago, it still does so today; Torah study gave moral vision and spiritual inspiration 500 years ago, it still does so today.

When I put on tefillin in the morning, I know that these very same tefillin were donned by Jews in Eretz Israel in 1200 BCE; by Jews in Babylonia in 500 BCE; by Jews in Iran in 100 CE; by Jews in Spain in 1000; by Jews in Poland and Austria in 1600; by my great-great-grandparents in Russia in 1850; and by millions of Jews from Sydney to Los Angeles in 2018.&nbsp;

If Moses enters New York today, he will recognize almost nothing. It’s a new world. If he enters our shul today, he will be familiar with so much: the same mezuzah, the same tefillin, the same talis, the same Torah scroll, the same Sukkah, the same shofar, the same lulav and esrog; 3,330 years, and the same Torah that Moses taught his people, we are teaching our children.

The Story of Henryk-Abraham<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn7" name="_ednref7" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref7')">[7]</a>

Henryk was very young in 1945, when the War ended and solitary survivors tried frantically to trace their relatives. He had spent what seemed to be most of his life with his nanny, who had hidden him away from the Nazis at his father's request. There was great personal risk involved, but the woman had readily taken it, as she loved the boy.

Henryk's nanny did not imagine that the father, Joseph Foxman, would survive the destruction of the Vilna Ghetto. He would surely have been transferred to Auschwitz — and everyone knew that nobody ever came back from Auschwitz. She therefore had no scruples about adopting the boy, having him baptized into the Catholic Church and taught catechism by the local priest.

The nanny saved his life—but also taught him to spit on the ground when a Jew walked by.

It was Simchat Torah when his father came to take him. The heartbroken nanny had packed all his clothing and his small catechism book, stressing to the father that the boy had become a good Catholic. Joseph Foxman took his son by the hand and led him directly to the Great Synagogue of Vilna. On the way, he told his son that he was a Jew and that his name was Avraham.

Not far from the house, they passed the church and the boy reverently crossed himself, causing his father great anguish. Just then, a priest emerged who knew the boy, and when Henryk rushed over to kiss his hand, the priest spoke to him, reminding him of his Catholic faith.

Everything inside of Joseph wanted to drag his son away from the priest and from the church. But he knew that this was not the way to do things. He nodded to the priest, holding his son more closely. After all, these people had harbored his child and saved the child's life. He had to show his son a living Judaism.

They entered the Great Synagogue of Vilna, now a remnant of a past era. There they found some Jewish survivors from Auschwitz who had made their way back to Vilna and were now rebuilding their lives. Amid the stark reality of their suffering, in much diminished numbers, they were singing and dancing on Simchat Torah.

Only 3,000 of Vilna's 100,000 Jews remained.

Avraham stared wide-eyed around him and picked up a tattered prayer book with a touch of affection. Something deep inside of him responded to the atmosphere, and he was happy to be there with the father he barely knew. He held back, though, from joining the dancing.

A Jewish man wearing a Soviet Army uniform could not take his eyes off the boy, and he came over to Joseph. "Is this child Jewish?" he asked, a touch of awe in his voice.

The father answered that the boy was Jewish and introduced his son. As the soldier stared at Henryk-Avraham, he fought to hold back tears. "Over these four terrible years, I have traveled thousands of miles, and this is the first live Jewish child I have come across in all this time. They were all murdered. This is the first live Jewish child I have come across in all these years... Would you like to dance with me on my shoulders?" he asked the boy, who was staring back at him, fascinated.

The father nodded permission, and the soldier hoisted the boy high onto his shoulders. With tears now coursing down his cheeks and a heart full of real joy, the soldier joined in the dancing.

"This is my Torah scroll," he cried, as he danced with the five year old Jewish boy.

The Abraham in our story came to be known as Abe Foxman (who is 78 today), the former national director of the Anti-Defamation League and presently serves as the head of the Center for the Study of Anti-Semitism at the Museum of Jewish Heritage in New York City.

The Reunion

But this is not the end of the story.

For 65 years, the boy and the soldier carried that moment in their hearts. Unknown to each other, they told the story to family and friends.

But then something happened. The Jewish composer Abie Rotenberg put together a song, "The Man from Vilna," about the story. Foxman heard the song and he learned that the Jewish Soviet soldier was a man named Goldman, still alive and living in the United States.

In 2010, they met and embraced for the first time since 1945. As it turns out, the Soviet soldier was Rabbi Dr. Leo Goldman from Oak Park, Detroit, an Orthodox rabbi and an educator, who died in December of 2013 at the age of 94.

The two men hugged and recited the blessing of “Shecheyanu vekeymanu veheganu lizman hazeh.”<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn8" name="_ednref8" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref8')">[8]</a>

Dance With Your Children

On Simchas Torah, we hold the Torah and dance. In a world where every fad turns into a mule, we celebrate the “salt” which never grows old, sour or rancid.

We are not in Vilna in 1945. We are, thank G-d, living in freedom. Abe Foxman’s life was changed because of that single dance. We ought not to deprive our children of that dance.

This Simchas Torah, lift up your children—or your friend’s children—or your grandchildren on your shoulders and dance with them. Dance with millions of Jews the world over, who will celebrate the Divine gift of Torah which becomes more fresh, relevant, and exciting each year.

Don’t let the ultimate preservative of history slip through your fingers.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref1" name="_edn1" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn1')">[1]</a> Bechoros 8b

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref2" name="_edn2" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn2')">[2]</a> Talmud Berachos 28a

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref3" name="_edn3" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn3')">[3]</a> Talmud Erkin 11

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref4" name="_edn4" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn4')">[4]</a> See Talmud Chagigah 5b

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref5" name="_edn5" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn5')">[5]</a> The following explanation is based on Maharsha to Bechoros 8b and Sefer Dorash Moshe derush 32. Cf. Chidushei Agados Maharal, Perus HaGra, and Likkutei Mahran for alternative explanations to this exhchange.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref6" name="_edn6" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn6')">[6]</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mule">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mule</a> footnote 3

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref7" name="_edn7" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn7')">[7]</a> <a href="http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/159889/jewish/This-Is-My-Torah-Scroll.htm">http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/159889/jewish/This-Is-My-Torah-Scroll.htm</a>

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref8" name="_edn8" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn8')">[8]</a> <a href="https://www.adl.org/sites/default/files/documents/cc-survival-to-service-spring-2003.pdf">https://www.adl.org/sites/default/files/documents/cc-survival-to-service-spring-2003.pdf</a>

The Mule &amp; the Salt: The Secret of Torah: When the Soviet Soldier Placed the Child Survivor on His Shoulders

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sefer torah

salt

athens

hakafos

mule

leo goldman

yehoshua ben chananyah

abe foxman

When the Soviet Soldier Placed the Child Survivor on His Shoulders

Essay Simchas Torah/Shavuos

The Mule & the Salt: The Secret of Torah

This women&#39;s class was presented on Tuesday Parshas Yisro, 16 Shevat, 5779, January 22, 2019, at the Ohr Chaim Shul, Monsey, NY

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perat

seeing

feminine torah

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synesthesia

kelal

Two Ways of Experiencing Judaism: The Whole or the Parts

Women's Yisro/Shavuos Class

Seeing the Sounds: Does Judaism Have a String Theory?

Reb Yosef (a Talmudic sage) told his family to prepare a feast for the day of Shavous. &quot;If not for this day, how many Yosef&#39;s are there in the market?!&quot; Meaning that if not for the day the Torah was given, he would be just another &ldquo;Joe&rdquo; in the street.

The question arises, what does it have to do with the day? It is because of the Torah, not the day? Also, why from all of the Talmudic sages was it only Reb Yosef who felt this way about Torah?

These and many other questions challenge us to delve more deeply into his words. The name &quot;Yosef&quot; means to add. Something was added to the world as a result of the giving of the Torah. But was this just a set of laws and perspectives introduces into the world? No, said Reb Yosef. The actual chemistry of the world was changed on the day the Torah was given. The class explores the impact of Torah and Mitzvos on the human being and the cosmos.

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reb yosef

Transforming the Chemistry of the Universe

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Why Real Change Can Happen Only Through Torah

Borders Made of Roses- Why Do the Borders Around Mt. Sinai Occupy Such a Major Part of the Story? Three Perspectives by Rabbi J.B. Soloveitchik, the Rogatchover Gaon, and the Lubavitcher Rebbe

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hashem

har sinai

halacha

border of roses

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limitations

Why Do the Borders Around Mt. Sinai Occupy Such a Major Part of the Story? Three Perspectives by Rabbi J.B. Soloveitchik, the Rogatchover Gaon, and the Lubavitcher Rebbe

Shavuos/Yisro Class

Borders Made of Roses

What We Ask of Life; What Life Asks Of Us. "If it is a clear day on the festival of Shavuos, sow your fields with wheat,&rdquo; said Achetofel to his family before taking his own life. A farming tip, or an insight into the essence of wisdom?

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spec.360p.mp4

spec.mp3

wheat

sinai

batsheva

achisofel

kabalat ol

kabalas ol

crown of royalty

crown of priesthood

crown of torah

three crowns

basheva

avsholom

absalom

“If it is a clear day on the festival of Shavuos, sow your fields with wheat.” A farming tip, or an insight into the essence of wisdom?

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A Dead King and Hungry Dogs:&nbsp;Exploring a strange Talmudic story about the passing of King David

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Exploring a strange Talmudic story about the passing of King David

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A Dead King and Hungry Dogs

Likkutei Torah Vehenif #1: The Spirituality of Animals. How Animals Remind Us of the Ultimate Purpose of Life. This class was presented during Sefirah of 5776 (2016) in Monsey, NY.

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