Some whithered Levis. Image source: sabbah.biz

By David Werdiger

It’s a common scene in a Shul on Shabbat.  Shortly before the reading of the Torah, the gabbai (that fellow who makes sure all the parts of the shul service that have to be done, are done) walks up to a stranger or guest and asks “Are you a Levi?”

The Jewish nation can be divided into three “classes”: Kohen, Levi and Israel. Of the twelve tribes (the progenitors of which were the sons of patriarch Jacob), the tribe of Levi was designated to work in the Temple, and as teachers. Within the tribe of Levi, the descendants of Aaron (brother of Moses) were designated as Kohanim – priests – and they enjoyed special privileges in return for their service in the Temple.

Today, some these privileges still apply. When we read the Torah, a Kohen is called first, then a Levi, and then one or more Israelites. On holy days (and every day in Israel), the Kohanim bless the congregation and the Levi’im (Hebrew plural, Levites in English) wash the hands of the Kohanim before they perform this ritual. And there’s more.

Assuming that the population growth among Jews did not substantially vary from tribe to tribe, the proportion of Kohanim and Levi’im should stay about the same over the long term. However, this doesn’t seem to be the case. In contemporary times, there seems to be a relative shortage of Levi’im.

When one considers the traditional agricultural tithes of Maaser (given to Levi’im) which is 10% of produce, and Terumah (given to Kohanim), which is about 2% of produce, these proportions are consistent with the tribe of Levi being about one twelfth (8.3%) of the population, and the Kohanim being a small subset of the tribe of Levi. However, modern day figures are entirely inconsistent with these numbers.

From studies done in Jewish cemeteries, Kohanim appear to be around 5% of Jewish males. Given the fact that Kohanim descended from one member of a tribe, that number seems very high. The dispersion of the lost ten tribes might account for an increased proportion of Kohanim in the general Jewish population, but it certainly doesn’t account for the relatively small numbers of Levi’im.

Why might this be so?

One reason might be the so-called “silver medallist syndrome”. The field of social psychology suggests that the emotional response to certain events is driven by people considering “what might have been”. To quote the pioneering psychologist and philosopher William James (back in 1892):

“So we have the paradox of a man shamed to death because he is only the second pugilist or the second oarsman in the world. That he is able to beat the whole population of the globe minus one is nothing; he has ‘pitted’ himself to beat that one; and as long as he doesn’t do that nothing else counts”.

Our objective achievements so often matter less than how they are subjectively construed. This is not unlike what has been described to me as the law of relative misery: a 5% raise can be quite exhilarating until one learns that the person down the hall received an 8% raise.

In the field of sport, the gold medallist has achieved the best possible outcome in the event. But the emotional response of the silver medallist is to consider “what might have been” in terms of missing out on the gold medal – “if only” they had performed a little better, they would have received the gold medal. The bronze medallist, on the other hand, compares their outcome to the lesser one of coming fourth, in which case they would have been part of the pack that received no medal at all. So they end up happier with their performance than the person who, objectively, did better.

In the same way, rather than accepting their objective status as a privileged tribe, the Levi’im may view their status relative to the prestige of being a Kohen (which particularly in post-Temple times, carries far more privileges), even though they have no control over this. Because of their reduced pride in their identity, they may be less likely to convey the details of their lineage to their children, or perhaps their children may be less likely to identify as Levi’im. This would lead to a long term decline in the relative proportion of Levi’im in the Jewish population.

Further, it is interesting to note that unlike the common societal division of upper/middle/lower classes, the relative proportions (in earlier times) of Kohen/Levi/Israel are approximately 2%/8%/90%. These numbers position the Levi’im as less of a middle class with a clear identity of their own, and more of a “second class elite”. This reinforces the notion that they are more likely to view themselves relative to “what might have been”.

Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, founder of the Chabad/Lubavitch movement, had a favourite saying, “One should live with the times”. His intent was not that Judaism should be adapted to fit the times. Quite the contrary, he meant that people should study and seek a pertinent message from weekly Torah reading.

This coming Shabbat, coinciding with the Limmud Oz festival, we will read the Torah portion of Korach. It is named for Moshe’s cousin and the leader of a rebellion against the rule of Moses and Aaron immediately following the episode of the spies and the resultant decree that the Jews spend forty years in the desert.

Korach set about challenging Moshe with a question about the laws of mezuzah. He asked, “Does a house filled with holy books require a mezuzah on the door?” Logic would dictate that if one scroll on the doorpost is sufficient to fulfil the obligation of mezuzah, surely a house full of holy books would not need something on the doorpost as well. The question behind the question was actually this: God had declared all of the Jews as holy, so why must one (Aaron the High Priest) be considered “more holy” than everyone else?

He expected Moshe to reply that the house would not require a mezuzah, which would support his view that there be no special role of High Priest that was “more holy” than everyone else. However, Moshe responded that a mezuzah is still required. At this point, Korach claimed that because the answer went against logic, Moshe must have made it up himself (so I guess he had a punt each way on the response). From there, the dispute escalated, and in the end, Korach and his followers were swallowed up by the earth.

Korach was a fascinating individual. The Midrash and Talmud say he was very smart, and had a valid claim against the establishment. It also states that he (as his name implies) was bald. What significance does this have to the whole episode?

The argument between Korach and Moshe is considered the prototypical rivalry. Ethics of the Fathers contrasts this to the Hillel and Shamai, who were adversarial scholars of the Mishnaic time, and whose opposition continued to their respective schools. But what is really the difference? What makes one dispute good, and another bad?

Like many biblical episodes, we can take a far deeper look into the story and see that a “cosmic event” was actually taking place. An event with that links back to the days of creation, and the key Kabbalistic structures and attributes.

To delve further into this absorbing episode, and bounce around between sources from the Torah, Midrash, Talmud, Zohar, and whatever else David can dig up, please come along to Limmud Oz this Sunday at the special time of 7:30pm (St Kilda supporters may find this more stimulating than watching their team struggle at Subiaco against Fremantle). David is also part of a panel session called “Jew Media” on Monday at 1:15pm, and disavows any knowledge of how the title for the session came about.

So often confused with the Burqa, one assumes the Niqab would also be included in any Burqa ban

By David Werdiger

Following his Hamas-hummus prank in the movie Bruno, one could imagine a Sacha Baron-Cohen character quickly dismissing the idea of banning the burqa: How could we do that!? Throw away so much tradition? Pastry filled with delicious mashed potatoes … even cheese or mushrooms. The burqa has been one of the great contributions to middle eastern cuisine … it’s hard to believe that any country would want to ban it!

Following bans in France and Belgium, the burqa debate has now made its way to Australia, with a Liberal Party senator calling for its ban in the wake of a bandit using it as a disguise. This in turn led to the whole issue being politicized with comments from both Tony Abbott and Kevin Rudd. The opinion pages are rather polarized on the issue, with the burqa ban either pandering to xenophobia, or a boost for equality. There doesn’t appear to be much middle ground on this, and both those for and against the burqa ban have somehow been able to argue that their position is one that promotes human rights.

The question is: what does this mean to the Jewish community, and can/should there be a united position on the issue?

While the ban in France originated as a consequence of Muslim immigration, it does have roots in the strong separation between Church and State in that country, and has been applied equally to garments associated with other religions, including large crosses, yarmulkes, and turbans. If we as Jews support a ban on the burqa, are we opening the door for similar rules against traditional Jewish clothes?

Friends of mine have been asked to remove their yarmulke for passport photos, or to remove their hair-covering at airport security. In the cases mentioned to me, the people in question have asserted their right to dress in accordance with the requirements of their religion, and ultimately, this was respected by the officials and if necessary, a compromise was reached. As Jews, we do need to stand up for our right to dress as our customs require if this is being challenged.

In Australia, we already have laws that restrict people from walking into a bank while wearing a helmet or balaclava that obscures their face. These same laws would seemingly also apply to someone wearing a burqa; so from a safety perspective, there seems little need to extend what we already have.

Muddying this debate is the fact that a federal election is looming, and Kevin Rudd is very much on the back foot after a series of policy back flips and an apparent reposition of the Labor Party away from the values many people voted him in on. His comments have already stood as a subtle warning to the opposition of the danger of making this an election issue. From what I hear of the talkback radio discussion on this topic, such a debate doesn’t seem to bring out the best in Australians.

Image source: softmatza.com

By David Werdiger

“This is what Hillel did in the times of the temple: he would wrap the Pascal offering, matzah and maror and eat them all together” (text of the Hagaddah, quoted from Talmud Pesachim 115a)

The matzah most commonly used by Jews the world over is flat and crisp (of course how crisp depends on the brand, country of origin, and in some cases, the forearm strength of the Eastern European women in the area). However, this style of matzah is a relatively recent development in Jewish history. Until at least the times of the Temple, and probably for some time after that, the maztah was soft, like a pita or a laffa.

In more recent times, it is thought that Rabbis were concerned that the soft matzah was not baked sufficiently so as to prevent the flour-water mixture from becoming leavened, so they started baking them thinner, and for longer, so they became hard and crisp. Indeed, the custom among followers of the school of Brisk is to have their matzah so well baked as to be almost burnt, so as to eliminate any possible risk of chametz.

When you consider that the Pascal offering was a young lamb, cooked on a spit, and it was not permitted to break any of its bones, the whole seder is looking more and more like a family barbeque. Picture the lamb roasting on the spit, with people carefully carving off meat onto a plate. As per Hillel’s custom, they would then place a quantity of the lamb slices into their pita-style matzah, and add some bitter maror (shredded horseradish or perhaps harif), and voila! You have perhaps the first documented shawarma!

While it’s good to see that Wikipedia correctly acknowledges the contribution of Hillel in the development of the sandwich, hundreds of years before the Earl of Sandwich; it assumes (incorrectly in my view) that the lamb and maror were placed between two pieces of matzah. However, as mentioned, if the matzah was soft, it would either be placed inside the pocket (if it had one), or more likely the whole thing wrapped up (like a laffa or an esh tanur). Perhaps Hillel requires more credit for his culinary development than he is given?

For all of you who have broken teeth or been covered in crumbs as your korech sandwich demolished in your hands, soft matzah is now available in Australia! According to the web site, the stuff has been a big hit and has already sold out through some retail channels. Information is also provided on the history of soft matzah, and the kashrut of this product, which doesn’t look like traditional matzah for most of us.

It’s quite ironic that a product that might be seen as an innovation, from a “progressive” yet orthodox kashrut supervision agency, is in fact a throwback to how things were many hundreds of years ago!

Chag Sameach!

Disclaimer: the writer is a relative by marriage to the owner of Kosher veYosher, and was not solicited in any way to write this piece, nor consulted the agency.

Image source: CrownHeights.info

Outsider, Rachel Sacks-Davis, and insider, David Werdiger, comment on the expulsion of the “Moshiach Dancers” and related controversies at Yeshiva Shule. Click here to skip straight to David’s insiders’ view.

Outsider’s view
by Rachel Sacks-Davis
It’s 6pm on Wednesday the 28^th of January, and I’m on my bike at the corner of Inkerman Road and Hotham Street, on my way home from work. Three men are dancing in circles on the corner nearest the Yeshivah Centre; they are wearing yellow t-shirts and jester hats, and waving an enormous yellow flag. Evidently, their widely publicised ‘excommunication,’ has not dampened their spirit.

In June last year, when Frosh and I wrote our “Ode to the Moshiach Dancers,” we were aware that these four joyous if unconventional men were a source of embarrassment for some Jews outside of the Lubavitch community, but we did not realise how controversial they had already become in their own community.

Shortly after writing the article, I was told that the moshiach dancers were considered to be quite mad. Unfortunately, I got the impression that this perceived madness elicited derision rather than compassion; so the following Shabbat when I walked past the dancers on my way to shul, I made an effort to be particularly friendly to them.

Of course by now, anyone who reads the AJN knows that on January 10 this year Rabbi Telsner, the dayan of Yeshivah Shule, released a notice effectively excommunicating the dancers. Rabbi Telsner’s notice reached my inbox via a friend who is not a chabadnik, but nevertheless suggested that perhaps Chabad had “finally come to its senses” by distancing itself from these extremely messianic elements.

The secular staff writer at the AJN seemingly concurred, writing that when the moshiach dancers broke the fast of the 10^th of Tevet, they had “gone too far.” This struck me as being somewhat ironic coming from a secular person, who it is fair to assume, eats on the 10^th of Tevet as a matter of course.

The two Chabad commentators who wrote in the same edition of the AJN cast the moshiach dancers as eccentrics and cult members respectively. Neither expressed sympathy for the small group who are by all accounts a bit different from the norm.

It would be remiss not to mention the context in which the moshiach dancers had become unpopular, and certainly they had raised the public profile of an extremely controversial and divisive issue – Chabad messianism. (For some insight into this controversy, see David Werdiger’s blog post and subsequent comments on the “Yechi” debate at Yeshivah Shule.)

Nonetheless, it seems fairly insensitive to excommunicate a small group of “eccentrics,” with no real influence on the mainstream congregants at Yeshivah Shule. Moreover, whilst the excommunication might be partially related to the dancers’ explicit messianism, explicit messianism persists at Yeshivah Shule amongst its more mainstream congregants. In the weeks following the excommunication, a movement from within the Yeshivah Shule congregation petitioned Rabbi Telsner to take down the sign that hangs in the shul proclaiming (or at the very least praying) that the late Chabad Rebbe is the moshiach, but Rabbi Telsner has announced that the sign will not be removed.

Insider’s view
by David Werdiger
The so-called “Moshiach Dancers” have been largely viewed within the Yeshivah community as meshuga’im – crazies – not as much due to their extreme ideology regarding Moshiach, but more for the way they choose to express it, whether through loud defiant declarations and dances in the shul itself, or more recently their regular expressions of free speech in the street.

When they were evicted from the shul, it was because their actions were divisive and disruptive to the broader members. The recent declaration against their Chillul Hashem (desecration of God’s name) by publicly eating on a fast day in breach of Jewish law was, in my view, warranted, as they had crossed a line with such an action. No matter what their beliefs regarding the imminence of Moshiach’s arrival or his identity, this gave them no right to breach halacha. As the Dayan of the Yeshivah community and arbiter of matters relating to Jewish law, Rabbi Telsner was obliged to take a stand against such action.

Going beyond that to what some people would call the core issue of the “Moshiach Dancers” is the mental health issue. As a community, we ought to help them. We have committees for financial aid, and for meal assistance during crisis times, although these things can usually be done by lay persons. To deal with a mental health issue requires a professional, so perhaps what is required in this case is a communal approach (directed by a mental health professional) that would help lead these folks to get the help they need. Deriding their behaviour is callous, but expressing public sympathy or approaching them may not have the correct effect either, as it continues to reward their actions with attention.

While the actions of a few eccentrics are what capture the imagination, the substantive issue here is actually that of messianism at Yeshivah Shul, and in Chabad generally. Regarding this, the recent coverage in the AJN regarding the Yechi sign and the petition was shameful sensationalism carrying little insight into what is really going on.

People have left Yeshivah shul because of the Yechi sign at the back. Would they all come running back if the sign was taken down? No. Would the removal of the sign usher in a new age of unity within the shul? No. The existence of the sign does not affect the vast majority of regulars (certainly not those of us who daven facing the front of the shul where the aron kodesh is) – a minority on either side of the political/ideological fence either strongly object to it, or strongly object to its removal. Whether people agree with the outcome or not, a process was followed by launching a petition, and the Dayan made a ruling. It ought to stop there. The issues facing Yeshivah shul go far beyond messianic ideology, and are largely internal.

Rachel talks about the “explicit messianism” that persists at the shul. I’ve always maintained that the issue is not black and white: rather, there is a spectrum of belief within Chabad regarding Moshiach, with extremes on either side. What everyone wants to know is this: is it reasonable to believe that the Rebbe can still be Moshiach, despite having passed away some years ago? The answer, according to many authorities, is yes. And if that might be termed “explicit messianism”, then yes, it does still exist within many mainstream Chabad communities around the world. It is also reasonable to believe that the Rebbe during his lifetime could have been Moshiach (or was “the Moshiach of his generation”), but now can no longer as he has passed away. Both of these positions are supported by Jewish theology.

No matter what one believes about specific details (and indeed, whether these details are themselves important), what Chabad brought was a public awareness about Moshiach that was largely absent from the Jewish world for many years. This is despite the fact that our daily prayers are filled with liturgy about our craving for the Messianic era. It is sad and ironic that the concept of Moshiach, which encapsulates the reunification of world Jewry, has been recently subverted as such a divisive one.

Some nice young gentlemen from Hamas' diplomatic corp. Source: shawarmamayor.blogspot.com

By David Werdiger

A Hamas army report on its conduct in Gaza last year has revealed that two officers were ‘disciplined’ for insufficiently endangering human life when they authorized three hundred civilians to be moved to a UN school that was being used to fire rockets.

Hamas division commander Mohammed el-Hafiz, known as Abu Gosh, and brigade commander Bilal Diya-al-Din, known as Abu Falih, were summarily executed for exceeding their authority in approving the use of human shields in a dense residential area that had already been seconded by resistance fighters.

The details of the disciplinary action were in a Hamas report handed to the UN at the weekend in response to last year’s report by Justice Richard Goldstone, on behalf of the UN Human Rights Council, alleging that Israel had committed war crimes in Gaza, during Operation Cast Lead.

The incident in question occurred on January 15 last year in Tel al-Hawa, a heavily built-up residential neighbourhood of Gaza City.

During the battle, there were fears that the Hamas rocket launch facility built underneath a popular school would be harmed and, as a result, three hundred civilians, including fifty UN aid workers, were moved there and ordered to stand outside on both the ground floor and first floor, in clear view of Israeli forces who were attempting to storm the launch facility. Hamas forces then started a fire in the adjoining food warehouse of the United Nations Relief and Works Agency, the organisation responsible for distributing food to Palestinian refugees in Gaza, and fanned the smoke from the blaze toward the school, so as to make it more difficult for Israeli forces to see the civilians.

A UN employee and two Palestinian civilians were injured during the subsequent attack by Israeli forces.

Gaza military officials explained at the time that the fire was intended to create a smokescreen so as to trigger a huge civilian massacre when Israel struck the rocket launching facility. But a subsequent Gaza inquiry showed that Abu Gosh and Abu Falih acted against the rules of engagement, which forbid the forcible movement of civilians into the line of Israeli fire unless their martyrdom was considered “near certain”. They were executed by public hanging for their unsuccessful attempt to contrive a massacre.

International human rights organisations led by the US-based Human Rights Watch accused Hamas at the time of ineffectively using human shields, which it said had caused burn injuries to hundreds of Palestinian civilians, rather than their intended death and martyrdom.

Hamas has steadfastly denied that its human shield policy, used in heavily populated areas, was ineffective.

There are now 28 criminal investigations open in Hamas. Its judge advocate general is yet to decide whether to exile suspects to Egypt, make do with summary lynching, or close the cases.

Meanwhile, Hamas media reported last night that Prime Minister Ismail Haniyeh had told ministers at a regular cabinet meeting on Sunday that he had decided to establish an independent investigation into the war crimes allegations.

“I don’t want officers and soldiers to get into a situation where they have to retain an attorney,” Mr Haniyeh reportedly said. “Our system of justice is very effective and there is no need for it to be bogged down by due process”.

With thanks to The Age.

For those who haven’t realized it yet, this article is pure satire and parody. It is based on the report in The Age of the Israeli response to war crimes allegations. It highlights how absurd we would consider the notion of a formal Hamas response to their own atrocities.

This article by David Werdiger was originally published here.

It’s that time of year again. Not Chanukah; not Christmas; not New Year; but VCE results time. That time of the year when the Jewish schools are able to quantify their success and be judged among the top schools in the state.

Let me declare my specific interest this year. Our oldest child has just completed his VCE, and this has been a very new experience for my wife and me (yeah, and for him too). He didn’t get a stratospheric ENTER score that puts him in the top fraction of a percent of students in the state. While he did work very hard over a sustained two-year period, he didn’t put his life on hold either. We are pleased with both the approach he took to VCE, and with the result he obtained. Would the opinion I express here be different if my child was among the elite students? I don’t know. I hope not.

The whole school ranking thing leaves me wondering just a little. Mount Scopus were number one this year, with a spectacular performance from a large number of students. Interestingly, the principal of MacRobertson High, the previous number one, expressed relief at their drop to third, calling the rank an “albatross around our neck”.

Back in the olden days, when I completed what was then known as the HSC (Higher School Certificate), it was the very first year that internal assessment was introduced. Rather than have students’ entire assessment come down to a single three-hour exam, it was felt that having some assessment done by the school, and across the year, would reduce the pressure on students, and also assess subjects in a more appropriate and equitable manner.

Over nearly twenty years, what has this evolved into? A system that maintains sustained pressure on students for two years, to the point where psychologists make a good living teaching them how to cope, and the secondary industry of private tutors is thriving. A system that places pressure on top performing schools (and therefore their students) to maintain their ranking. A system that not only still judges students by a single number, but has taken the number from an aggregate exam score to a ranking, thus sending the message that education is a competition.

The top-ranked schools have embraced this, and have learnt to work the system so as to produce students that do well. But are these schools providing a good education for their students? Are they equipping them with the tools to live productive lives? Or have they simply become ENTER factories?

At a presentation at the start of the school year, well-known psychologist Michael Carr-Gregg spoke to parents and students about how to approach the study year. He was full of good advice – things like getting plenty of sleep (was he talking to the students or the parents as well?), what to eat, and how to study most effectively, much of which was backed by research. The most important thing he said was this: “your ENTER score does not define you”.

The system we have now is deeply flawed. Some people might say that it’s all we have, or that we need some way of measuring student performance, and particularly determining who is accepted into the limited number of university places. The students who did extremely well by this measure should be fully congratulated. They worked hard and earned it. They made their parents, their school, and their community proud.

By David Werdiger

I preferred Sabra before they switched from their previous kosher authority to their most recent one – their chips were just delicious. My friend who works in the kosher industry told me they were fried in oil that contained tallow, which is animal fat, and therefore not kosher. As a kosher consumer, I place a degree of trust in the supervising authority, so that if the food consumed turns out not to be kosher, it is on their heads, not mine. That said, some authorities are more trustworthy than others. Let’s leave that issue for another article …

Alas, Sabra has recently closed its doors, and the owner has moved (back) to Israel. But even as one star fades, another is born. Dan and Eli Grosberg have opened Daneli’s to rave reviews. Sam Lipski ought to try their pastrami on rye, which is a truly authentic kosher antipodean interpretation of the deli classic.

We all complain about the kosher eating options here in Melbourne. Restaurants come and go like the wind; there aren’t enough of them; they are too expensive; they aren’t kept clean. Why is this? And more importantly, what can be done about it?

On the other side of the counter, many restaurateurs are serial complainers too! Kosher meat is so expensive; I have to bear the cost of a supervisor; my hours are restricted by Shabbat; the Kosher authority won’t let me do this or that. Some even have the audacity to keep telling you how good their restaurant is!

The meat issue is certainly a valid one: kosher meat is three to four times more expensive than non-kosher. There are also lots of other ingredients that may have a slightly higher cost.

Restaurants typically run gross margins of 70-80%. This means that, for example, the ingredients in a $10 meal actually cost the restaurant just $2-3. The major operating cost is staff: the people in the kitchen who prepare and cook the food, and the waiting staff who directly look after the patrons.

For a kosher meat restaurant, if your ingredient costs (taking an average across all the ingredients – not just the meat) are double or triple, this makes a huge dent in margins. Either you put up your prices, or struggle to make a profit.

Kosher restaurants can’t open on Shabbat, so take at least another 15% off revenues, but rent still has to be paid. This is allegedly the reason the proposed Glicks at Chadstone was knocked back.

But on the other hand …

How much price elasticity of demand really is there in the kosher food market? To what extent will people simply consider alternatives because of the cost of kosher restaurants? I don’t know. Perhaps they should have included some questions about this in the recent community survey?

I recall that the prices at Park Grill were quite high, yet their serving sizes were very generous, and they were packed night after night. My Flame is also on the expensive side, and the place is rocking every time I go there. A Daneli’s burger will set you back $13.95 but close your eyes and you could be at Pico Kosher Deli or at the New York icon where fast food is good food.

Non-Jewish friends and associates are always surprised to hear of the paucity of kosher eating options in Melbourne and Sydney. There are over 2 million Jews in New York – if 10% of them only eat kosher, that translates to a market size of at least 200,000. The Shamash kosher restaurant database found over 600 restaurants in the state. In Melbourne there are about 50,000 Jews, and maybe 5,000 who keep kosher. On a pro-rata basis, we are probably doing quite well for kosher restaurants.

To me, the real problem is that the people who choose to open a restaurant here do it with little or no expertise or experience. How many of them have had some formal training at a school like William Angliss? Or done an apprenticeship at a good restaurant in Israel, New York, Los Angeles, or Paris? There seems to be an attitude of “if you build it, he will come” amongst some proprietors. Customers should never be taken for granted, and should not feel obliged to “support” a commercial venture.

It comes down to a very simple principle: The definition of a good kosher restaurant is a good restaurant … that just happens to be kosher.

Source: jewishjournal.com

By David Werdiger

We seem to associate Simchat Torah with getting drunk. However, unlike other Jewish holidays (Purim is the most obvious example), there is no imperative whatsoever to imbibe and drink on Simchat Torah.

The only mention of the association that comes to mind is that we change around the order of the morning prayer service and move birchat kohanim (priestly blessing) from musaf to shacharit. The reason for this is that on Simchat Torah it is customary to make kiddush after the shacharit service instead of at the end of the service. This means that kiddush takes place before hakafot (dancing with the Torah) and the long reading of the Torah, in which everyone is called up, and the cycle of Torah reading is completed, and then started afresh from the Beginning.

What does this have to do with the kohanim? In Temple times when the kohanim performed the service, there was a zero-tolerance policy to alcohol: they had to come to work fully sober, and were disqualified for even a minute trace of alcohol in their systems. Similarly in contemporary times, when they perform their priestly duty of blessing the congregation, they can only do this if they have not ingested any alcohol.

It seems clear from this that drunkenness is quite incongruous with shule service and Jewish ritual. Indeed, one explanation of why Aaron’s sons Nadav and Avihu were killed was because they performed the service in the Tabernacle while drunk.

The only reason that comes to mind for drinking on Simchat Torah is because we associate being happy with drinking (“and wine brings joy to a man’s heart” – Psalms 104), and both Succot and Shmini Atzeret/Simchat Torah are designated “the time of our joy”. Interestingly, the Vilna Gaon says that the most difficult of all the commandments is the one that requires us to be happy all through the festival of Succot!

One of my favourite pieces in the Talmud relating to alcohol is the famous statement: “a person may be assessed by three things: his wallet (how he is with money), his cup (how he handles alcohol), and his anger (his temper)”. In the original Hebrew, these are a neat alliteration: “kiso, koso, ka’aso”. The way a person handles these things tells us a lot about them – about their core values – about what really matters to them, and how they respond when their buttons are pushed.

In particular, alcohol tends to strip away ones inhibitions. There are lots of different kinds of drunks: happy and sad, extroverted and introspective, passive and aggressive. People also drink for lots of reasons; perhaps the worst is embodied in the fabulous Sia song – drink to get drunk. While I don’t advocate complete bans on alcohol in shules, I abhor the binge drinking practices adopted by many of our youth these days.

Shules certainly should have responsible drinking policies (for young and old) and strictly enforce these, particularly ensuring people get home safely. The drinking culture of Simchat Torah needs to be transformed from one of excess for its own sake, to a ‘facilitator’ of joy used in moderation. Let’s make sure we don’t leave the Torah out of Simchat Torah.

L’Chaim!

* The Greeting card can be ordered here

Aldon Day Spa. Source: berlin.unlike.net/locations/345-Aldon-Day-Spa/

By David Werdiger

They call it a day spa for a reason. You are encouraged to take a day off, and immerse yourself in the luxurious environment of the spa. Switch off your mobile phone; leave your Blackberry at the door – communication with the outside world is discouraged. There are no TVs displaying 24-hour news channels, or internet display panels on the walls – the things that constantly bombard us with what is happening in the world are noticeably absent.

At the day spa, you spend some quality time looking after yourself. A massage or a facial will gently rub away the stress in your life. An exfoliation will scrape away the invisible filth that has attached itself to your skin, and then a wrap will aid detoxification. The sauna or steam room might have a similar effect, shvitzing the toxins out of your body.

Afterwards, you come away feeling cleansed in a very different way. The treatments themselves are doubly effective because of the environment of escape, albeit temporary, from the worries of the world. While lying there and relaxing, you know full well than in a few hours it will be over, and you will be forced back to the grind, but for now, it is possible to live the moment.

Yom Kippur is a day spa for the soul.

No phone. No food or drink. Sneakers that look quite weird with a suit, but everyone else is wearing the same, so it doesn’t matter.

The service in shul is long and intense. Themes of life and death are everywhere we look. Avinu Malkeinu – our father, our King (five times). Al Chet – confession for our sins (ten times, according to some customs).

For twenty five hours, we leave the world and spend some quality time on our soul.

At the end of it all, as we all call out the verse Shema Yisrael together at the climax of the Neila service, we might feel very mortal, thinking of those who died with those words, and intensely spiritual, particularly connected to God, all at once.

In our shul, before the blowing of the shofar, we all dance to the tune of Napoleon’s March. It’s a victory march; an elated celebration of God’s forgiveness; a bridge between the spiritual immersion of Yom Kippur, and the real world we must come back to. By then, we are barely hungry for food, rather spiritually satiated.