Holding On

More than the Jewish People have kept the Sabbath, the Sabbath has kept the Jews – Ahad Ha’am

Asher Zvi Hirsch Ginsburg was an early Zionist and an essayist, writing over the pen name of Ahad Ha’am. He was secular but believed that it was necessary to have a Jewish state, not simply a state for Jews. Although raised in an observant household, he rejected many of the strictures of Judaism. He recognized, however, the centrality of the religion in the lives and in the essence of his people but, while Palestine would ultimately be the home of the Jews, now was not the time for them all to descend on it. Perhaps an ingathering would take place in messianic times, but meanwhile the Jews already in Palestine would set an example for those elsewhere.

Ahad Ha’am was what we now call a “cultural Zionist.” He believed in Judaism's ethics and in the Jewish People. And he knew that “Palestine” was their home. At least ultimately. He worked to establish it. But until then it was necessary to strengthen Jews in the diaspora, where he favored a Jewish nationalist revival.

Perhaps he was a “secularist” and not personally observant, but he recognized that it was our traditions that kept us together. And antisemitism. According to a citation in Wikipedia, Ginsburg wrote in a latter to Max Nordau, Only anti-Semitism had made Jews of us. Our best way of preserving ourselves was preserving Judaism.

For him it was Shabbat that kept us together, and there is no denying its importance as a binding force. Of course there are many others, of which a few examples are Torah, the siddur, the mezzuzah, prayer, and pride. Whether or not he “believed” in G-d, it seems clear that he believed in the Jewish People, and in the traditions that held them together. We have our own state now, but if we are to survive in a world that wants to eliminate us, it will because we follow our traditions.

The survival of the Jewish People over many millennia when other nations have come and gone has been noted by many, Jews and non-Jews, who have difficulty explaining it. Mark Twain wrote

If the statistics are right, the Jews constitute but one quarter of one percent of the human race. It suggests a nebulous puff of star dust lost in the blaze of the Milky Way. Properly, the Jew ought hardly to be heard of, but he is heard of, has always been heard of. He is as prominent on the planet as any other people, and his importance is extravagantly out of proportion to the smallness of his bulk.

Tradition has kept the Jews.

Recent surveys suggest the eventual assimilation of non-traditional Jews, while there will be a continued increase in the number of those who follow tradition – primarily the Orthodox. There has been, and will continue to be, a shift to the right among them. Whether this is good or bad is not the point. More important is the idea that tradition is what Judaism has going for it and, if we are to survive, members will have to pay more attention to maintaining and strengthening them, rather than discarding them.

Tradition, and the will to survive – whatever it takes.

January 18, 2017

Rationalizing The Rabbis

Who can know the “mind” of Hashem?

Who can understand His “wishes?”

We were given a bare-bones Torah which needed explication; a written law in need of the oral law. But the oral law, passed on for centuries from person to person, was, as we observe in the game of “Telephone,” sometimes different at the end from the beginning.

When it comes to the understanding of specific halakhot we frequently come across differing opinions, often with conclusions that are diametrically opposed. [For examples of some of the problems, see the ENDNOTE.] Although we may be taught to follow the majority opinion, it may be unclear how that opinion was reached. And that opinion may reflect different lines of reasoning. They may come to the same conclusions but by distinct paths which may leave us with important questions left unanswered regarding situations which revolve around the route rather than the destination. We are still in need of our rabbis to guide us along these routes. But with all the disagreements that already exist, perhaps they are subject to similar variations in their opinions.

According to our tradition and practices, an individual follows all the views of a particular rabbi irrespective of his leniency or strictness. In practice, however, one checks with the rabbi most likely to give the opinion being sought. In fact, though it is not proper to do so, some people will even “shop” for opinions, choosing, after speaking with several different rabbis, to accept the opinion that they sought initially.

How have we arrived at this state? Why are there different opinions if rabbinic law reflects the teachings of Moshe at Sinai, and what Moshe was taught and what he taught were the words of Hashem? Are different rabbis conveying different words in Hashem’s name (sorry about the redundancy)? Can contradictory rulings all represent the “views” of Hashem? And what should we do when faced with our own uncertainty and with judgments which make no sense to us?

It is important to recognize at the outset that our quandary is not new. The rabbis have always been cognizant of discrepancies between opinions. Various rules have been set out to help guide us when we must make choices. For example, we follow Hillel rather than Shamai, “the rabbis” rather than an individual. That kind of bottom-line help is certainly appreciated, but it begs the question of why there are disagreements in the first place. Here, too, the rabbis attempt to deal with the problem rather than ignore it. Their solution, however, is not always one with which we are comfortable. What is often their approach is to solve the problem by denying its existence. Rather than admit that one teacher disagrees with another, an attempt is made to show that the two opinions are identical, but apply to situations which differ. Thus they cannot be compared, and the two rabbis would agree if all the circumstances were the same.

It doesn’t always work, though. Sometimes one rabbi will state that he disagrees with another, and it is difficult to explain away what was acknowledged by one of the principals to be a different opinion. It is still possible to state that one did not fully understand the position of the other or the situation about which he spoke -- that if he had known all the facts he would have decided similarly -- but it is more difficult. To do so is to cast doubt upon the new “authority,” to suggest that we are smarter or know more than he. If so, what is the standing of other rulings of his when we disagree with them? Should we follow our own views having already determined that he is subject to error?

There is no answer except to accept the fact that there is no answer, and to follow the Biblical dictum that we abide by the rabbis of our times. It's not always satisfying but, at least for the present, it's all we have. And it's the tradition.

========================================

ENDNOTE

The usual solution to the problem is to eliminate any conflicts. For example:

Situations are different and the two Rabbis who apparently disagreed were discussing different cases. “The two opinions are really the same. The circumstances were different. In one case …”

“The Vilna Gaon” says to delete ...” -- There appear to be times when the Rabbis, faced with something that makes no sense to them or is a contradiction, simply delete what they consider in error or say that it means something else -- occasionally the opposite of what it says.

         “Here you’re talking about ...” -- There are times when the Rabbis explain something not obvious by describing a situation which is not even suggested in the text but can be made to fit and solve a problem not otherwise soluble.

         “It means the opposite.”

         “He must have meant ...”

         “He should have said ...”

         Switch the views of Sages to be consistent with other statements

September 29, 2016

The Second Day

Shavuot is over. Both days.

My daughter called from Jerusalem where she lives and we caught up on all the activities there – hers, her husband's, and those of their six children. It was fascinating, but she had to hold it all in for a day because in Israel the holiday is only one day long, so she couldn't call us even though it was a regular day for her.

There are several holidays like that – which we in the galut (diaspora) observe for two days while Israelis fulfill their obligations in one. The difference has ancient roots. There was a time when the new month was determined by visual observation of the moon. And that was certified by a court in Canaan (now Israel) with the news of the new month spread to other locations by bonfires on mountain tops and later, because there were non-believers who lit fires to cause confusion, by messenger.

Messengers, however, take time, and it turned out that the news arrived in some localities after a particular holiday and it couldn't be observed properly. A practical system arose. People started celebrating the occasion on two days, based on counting for the previous month. Because the lunar month was sometimes twenty-nine and sometimes thirty, and individuals didn't know which day to observe, this solution ensured that the right day would be honored – whichever it was.

After a while, however, a fixed calendar was developed that allowed everyone to know which day was which without any message from the Holy Land. That didn't change much, though, because the celebration of two days had become a tradition in the galut, and traditions have a standing almost as determinative as laws.

And that's the way it is today. Some holidays that are one day long in Israel last for two days everywhere else. (Rosh Hashanah, the new year, is observed for two days even in Israel, but the reasoning will not be discussed here.) Israelis, who are outside their country, celebrate for one day no matter where they are, and non-Israelis, two days, even when they are in Israel. Traditions are strong.

But this one is wrong. The two-day rule arose as a recognition that the place was far enough away from the site of declaration of the day that a way had to be found to compensate for the problem. (The decision by some to observe a single day now that we have a fixed calendar will also not be discussed.) It had nothing to do with the people. And in Canaan, or Israel, knowledge was based on the fact that the date was determined there, and people knew immediately. Where they were was the deciding factor, not who they were.

Traditions are important to a People, but it's better when they are understandable, when they make sense. This one doesn't. The determination of the date was based on location, not the identity of the observer. 

It would make much more sense if the tradition were similarly based on location. Israelis, when outside of Israel, would observe for two days and others, when they were in Israel, would shorten their usual pattern of celebration to a single day. They would be following the historical basis of their tradition.

It is also usual for someone who is not at home to follow the traditions of the community in which he finds himself. This idea would also mitigate for a change to a geographical pattern, rather than one that is based on origin. If the community observes for two days, so should the traveler, irrespective of his home. And the same is true of one day. The community's traditions should be respected.

Another reason is given for the difference. It is based on the idea that the level of spirituality is higher in the Holy Land than outside, and that the level of spiritual elevation that can be obtained in Israel in one day takes longer outside the land, because there is less surrounding inspiration. This too, however, relates to the place rather than the person. Even using this reasoning it makes more sense for the traveler to follow the patterns of the community in which he finds himself. It's logical.

But what does logic have to do with religion and tradition. No change will occur because that's the way it's “always” been, and that's the way it always will be. At least I hope so.

What Might Have Been

When I was young I went to Hebrew School, like all good Jewish boys. After my Bar Mitzvah the rabbi called my mother into his office and told her that he thought I should go into the rabbinate. She was appalled. She was the daughter of a rabbi on the lower east side of Manhattan early in the early twentieth century and she, and many of her sibs, felt they were in a “fish bowl,” always under the eye of members of the community and unable to develop in their own way and at their own pace. She was happy to get out. And she didn't want her grandchildren under the same pressure.

I'm glad about her decision, however for entirely different reasons (some of which I hope to clarify in a future essay). Most notably because although I was raised in the Conservative movement, my practice now is Orthodox. I've moved a little to the right, and Conservatism has gone far to the left. The rabbinate toward which I would have been directed then would have been in the Conservative movement. I would have been a misfit, and I would have been very unhappy. That's not to say that I don't think I would have been good at it. I suspect I would have. But as time went by I would have lacked conviction. I would have been playing a part rather than practicing a profession. I would have had trouble following the call of my vocation.

Part of the problem is that I don't know what I believe. Having been reared in a secular setting and having attended public schools, I was steeped in rationality, and never oriented to believe in a transcendent deity. I wasn't taught that it was untrue, but it was never an issue of great concern. What has resulted is uncertainty about the existence of G-d.

I know that this doesn't correspond to my claim of orthodox observance. But observance doesn't necessarily reflect belief. The “rules” I observe were recorded by men, although they may have been dictated or inspired by G-d. They seem to be self-serving, elevating the status of the Rabbis – past and present. And the absence of a “proof” of G-d's existence in a world that bases everything on rational proof makes belief difficult.

But the same rationality that questions a deity also teaches that effects have causes. Notwithstanding Stephen Hawking, you can't get something from nothing. There's no “free lunch.” Even Hawking relies on laws of physics to account for existence, but he doesn't explain their origin. We're here, and there is a Universe. Where did we come from? And where did the Universe come from? Perhaps these are simply philosophical questions, but even the most educated and the most rational among us would have difficulty answering them.

If there is no rational explanation, then, I'm left with the conclusion that there must be an irrational one – or, better, a supra-rational one. And while I have no explanation for G-d, I can only conclude that some supra-rational force exists – whatever people choose to call it. I'll call it G-d, but I readily admit that I don't know what I'm talking about. As the saying goes, there are more questions than answers. Questions related to theodicy are, perhaps, the most difficult to answer, but long ago I accepted the idea that applying rational standards to a supra-rational process was irrational. The Book of Job makes it clear that we cannot understand G-d's ways. And I can accept that ignorance. I'm not G-d. I try to follow all the law and pray three times a day even when no one (human) is watching me, because I feel I've done wrong when I cut corners.  I guess that means I'm a believer. There are proofs of divinity all around us, but none that an atheist would accept. That's his loss.

But that doesn't deal with the question of the rules I follow. Are they G-d's, or are they the “creations” of men? Is it divine Law I try to follow, or is it “tradition?” Were humans authorized to speak in G-d's name? Should I believe that everything written by our sages has a divine origin? That's what we've been taught.

I don't know and I don't care. There's enough that I can't answer that is so much more profound than this that I don't have to focus on it. If it's only tradition that I follow, I can live with that. My heritage and my people have much to offer humanity – if only humanity would recognize it, rather than resent it and us.

Perhaps I'm a misfit similar to what I would have been had I entered the rabbinate. Pascal based his wager on the odds. After all he was a mathematician, and a scientist like him tried to be rational. But in a way I'm more rational, basing my acceptance of G-d on the logical belief in cause and effect. Still the rationalists of modern times cannot accept anything they cannot prove. So, from their perspective, I've been misled. And I'm following precepts that have no basis. Many of them – and I'm most aware of some of the scientific and medical precepts in Jewish religious teaching – are either not well thought out or are flat out wrong. Which, despite the apologetics, suggests to me that they were the ideas of humans rather than being divine precepts. Maybe they have value in the understanding of the eras in which they were written. But as we have been admonished to follow the teachings of the rabbis of our times – and their exposition of the words of their predecessors may differ from what was taught in the past – so, too, we are well advised to follow the explanations of modern medicine and science.

I'm a physician, not a rabbi. I might have been a rabbi – indeed, I have a son who is one – but things didn't work out that way for me. So be it. In a way I'm glad. I can accept my ignorance about religion without having to defend it and explain it to others. And without having to abandon it because I can't always understand it. I'm not a misfit. But I might have been one.

The Melting Pot

“A lot of folks didn't know they were black. A lot of people thought they were Americans.” So said (Black Panther) Jimmy Garrett about those attending his (identity raising) reading groups in the 1960's. (Cited in Andrew Hartman's A War for the Soul of America.)

They “thought they were Americans.” What a humiliating idea.

"America is God's Crucible, the great Melting-Pot where all the races of Europe are melting and reforming... Germans and Frenchmen, Irishmen and Englishmen, Jews and Russians – into the Crucible with you all! God is making the American." That was the take of Israel Zangwill (in The Melting Pot) who, though English, better understood America's mission than many Americans.

Some have viewed this mission as a call for assimilation, which, to a degree, it is. America has always been a potpourri, an olio both ethnically and politically. We are a country of immigrants (remaining so today, notwithstanding the current political brouhaha) and while most of our newest members have adopted the culture of their new land, we have all gained by their incorporation into our culture of fragments of their own.

But the most important element has been the acquisition of our ways by those who have come here. It is what many have sought and what others have accepted in the quest to leave the oppressive situations in which they lived. Some came for the freedom we offer, and some primarily for economic reasons. Either way, however, they chose to join a society which they viewed as superior to their own. And there is no question that many of our country's benefits are unique, and worth the difficulties associated with migration.

There is no question, though, that Americans have been prejudiced against those they considered different from themselves. This includes those of other races, ethnicities, and religions. All are seen as “foreigners” or other “undesirables.” Some of our citizens denigrate as well those with accents, different sexual practices, opposing political views, and other levels of education from their own. Over the years, however, the differences have often faded (not invariably, of course) with assimilation and acculturation.

But we must all remember that assimilation doesn't preclude the maintaining of the cultures of their upbringings, nor the teaching of those cultures to their children or to us. That is a desirable practice helping us better understand both the values and practices of other nations and peoples – important on its own and a special need of those traveling for pleasure or business – and the comparative strengths of our own society. The importation of traditions other than our own is beneficial to us.

Still, “multiculturalism” can go too far. Some see their new home as a place which they would like to turn into one resembling the old. Europe has experienced immigration over recent decades (not just the recent flood from the Middle East) which has led to voluntary ghettoization and an attempt to import and impose the societies that they left, including religious law, on those to which they fled. And this has led to conflict and distrust all around them. It has led to demands that the newer members of that society “go back where they came from.”

A major problem is that while most want to assimilate and become full members of their new society – to become indistinguishable from other citizens – there are many who prefer the past to the present, and are unwilling to give up their old ways. Moreover, there are many who believe, often with good reason, that they are being marginalized by their new fellow citizens. But there are others who see their presumed marginalization as a meal ticket. It is a rationalization for any failures of their own, and a stick to be used against a society that they claim has oppressed them. Their ways are right, and society's are wrong.

From my perspective, such an attitude is unwarranted. It is admirable to want to preserve the past practices of your heritage, but that should be along with, not instead of, those of your new home. Perhaps your traditions should inform the new society in which you live, but they should not replace them. Except to the degree that they are protected by the first, or some other, amendment, they should be subservient to American law.

We do not live in an either/or society – one that requires that we eschew either our past or our present – but one that is both/and: one in which past, present, and future enhance each other. That is a status that will provide for our future and make it profitable for us all. We can be whatever, and Americans as well.

Fiddler On The Fence

It's not only about G-d. Everyone believes in G-d – even atheists. They deny it and use other terminology, but they have the same questions about the origin of everything that we all do. If they choose to ascribe it all to gravity, as Stephen Hawking does, or the laws of science in general, it is hard to disavow the idea that even the laws of science had to come from somewhere. Unless you believe that they always existed – that they are eternal.

“Believe.” “eternal.” “the laws of science had to come from somewhere.” Those are religious ideas and bespeak a deity of some sort – even if it's science itself. And unless one accepts ancient mythologies, or is an adherent of of a polytheistic religion, it is likely that you accept the concept that there is only one G-d.

Larycia Hawkins, a professor at Wheaton College in Illinois, decided to wear a headscarf during the Advent season as a gesture of solidarity with Muslims. In doing so, Hawkins quoted Pope Francis, saying that Christians and Muslims "worship the same God."

Professor Hawkins (Political Science) was suspended from her position at a Christian college because her statement was in conflict with the principles that the college was teaching. I'm neither Christian nor Muslim, but I accept the formulation of Pope Francis that she cited. My only modification, and it's certainly not a minor one, is that the beliefs about that G-d, and the ways that we worship, vary greatly. While the non-Abrahamic religions may have other teachings, Islam and Judaism among others rely on post-biblical interpretations for authority (and Catholicism credits the Pope with infallibility in understanding faith and morals), Protestant doctrine is different and, according to Wikipedia,

“The belief in the Bible [i]s the highest source of authority for the church.”

moreover

“The universal priesthood of believers implies the right and duty of the Christian laity not only to read the Bible in the vernacular, but also to take part in the government and all the public affairs of the Church. It is opposed to the hierarchical system which puts the essence and authority of the Church in an exclusive priesthood and makes ordained priests the necessary mediators between G-d and the people.”

Their view is that every believer must read the Bible, and all would practice according to their own understanding without the need for ordained priests as “mediators” between G-d and themselves. It's very democratic, which makes it very attractive.

But it's certainly not the path of Islam or Judaism. Both rely heavily on authority, and assume a greater understanding of the holy doctrines, by an educated, if not necessarily ordained, minority. Both teach and follow ancient traditions. Unfortunately, for many Muslims that extends beyond the peaceful adherence to religious principles and mandates the spreading of their rules to everyone, by whatever means are necessary. And that includes force. Too many believe that until Islam and its laws are universally accepted, they must continue war on those who reject their precepts. And we see evidence of that war every day.

Judaism has a different approach however. It's not a proselytizing religion and doesn't force its precepts on anyone. Which is not to say that its practices are accepted by all Jews. In fact, Jewish history is filled with disputes about the meaning of the laws and precisely how they should be observed. But the arguments and different opinions – even if rejected – are preserved for the edification of future generations and even minority views may have some standing. Minority opinions may become the “traditions” of various Jewish communities, and there is wide variation in practice, even among the orthodox, without the need to conceal any of the ancient traditions. Disagreements may exist but violence is not the way they are usually settled. Just more disputes and debates. And there are plenty of them. As they say, “Two Jews, three opinions.” So there are many occasions when an individual may be uncertain about the “correct” practice – when two different traditions seem equally reasonable. Or unreasonable.

But there are rules for the interpretation of the laws. The main source, of course, is the Bible. That's the case with all of these religions. After all, it's the word of G-d. Fine. But it's not always clear what is meant, so there's a need for interpretation and for guidelines. Is everyone who reads the Bible equally capable of interpretation? Judaism has accepted the principle that the most important criterion is antiquity. The longer ago an authority lived, the more reliable is his opinion. After all, he's closer to the time of the giving of the Law, to the time when all of Israel heard the words of G-d.

That's the problem though. The words of ancient sages are, too often, viewed as dispositive. They're final. But while we treat them as divine they're nothing more than the words of men. However much inspiration and wisdom they contain, however well they have stood up through the years, however they may have been accepted by others, they are the words of men. And there is ample room for interpretation of these words as well. Not every interpretation, especially some of the more recent ones, is consistent with the underlying philosophy of the religion, but the encouragement of discussion by those conversant with the views of our sages, gives Judaism much of its strength. As does honest disagreement whose aim is to understand and fulfill G-d's wishes. "These and These Are The Words of the Living God."

Humans can never know G-d's wishes. We may adopt traditions with the intent to fulfill them, but we can never be sure. Different religions worship in different ways, as do different branches of a single religion. Our practices are ours, and we mustn't force them on others. Intent is what counts. Important as it is to follow the words of our sages, to respect the authority of their erudition and the wisdom of their rulings, unless the underlying purpose of your actions and traditions is to do what you believe G-d wants of you, you are following the words of men.

Get off the fence.

Now You Know Everything

 

In the highly unlikely event that you've been reading my maunderings for the past two years, you know a little about how I think. You're also aware that I know everything. At least you should be. I've told you so. But while I know everything, I don't tell it all. And there are several reasons for this.

The first is that there isn't enough space. Look up anything using a search engine and you'll find uncountable references, irrespective of the unimportance of the subject. However inane it is,ⁱ many people have written about it. Many of those references are wrong. I know they're wrong because they disagree with me. It's obvious, though, that the plethora of writings on various subjects is unmanageable. Once the Library at Alexandria could house much of the world's knowledge. More recently the Library of Congress has managed to contain a small amount of this knowledge, and now the internet tries, but totally fails, in the same quest. Only I know everything -- but as you can guess, there isn't enough room to reveal it all, so I dole it out in small amounts.

Another important reason is that the reader simply won't understand all I have to say. He'll be depressed. And the last thing I want to do is to make the ignorant feel inadequate. He knows it already and I don't want to rub it in.

Much of what I know isn't relevant to current society and mores. American culture nowadays is undisciplined and ruled by the media, old wives's tales, technology, and other fads, and there is little appreciation of the past and its contributions. Any society that can condemn fat and salt while lionizing exercise and iPads is corrupt and has been badly misled. Any country that gives away money and permits cigarettes is just looking for approval by voters. But that's not all of my message 2 U.ⁱⁱ

Rather, I'd like to go over one subject that's important to me but, assuming it would hold less interest for you, I've underplayed. The subject is religion -- specifically mine, Judaism. This morning, though, as I was looking at my tzitzit,ⁱⁱⁱ it struck me that my view of Judaism was of sufficient interest to me that even if you can't relate to it there are some things I want to say. Because even if I know everything, I don't have to like everything the way it is.

Don't misunderstand. My intent is not to fault Judaism, but I can't ignore the faults of some of its adherents. Because so many have been assimilating and intermarrying – especially in the context of a free American society – the overall number of Jews has been decreasing, and there has been fear that our community would die out, and with that, among other tragedies – especially spiritual – we would lose whatever political influence we have. Since we have long supported Israel,^iv and America has joined in this stance, there has been fear that American assistance might be jeopardized. Fortunately the non-Jewish community, especially the Christian right, favors our country's support of Israel. And fortunately as well, the Orthodox population is increasing both absolutely and, even moreso, proportionately, so that, at least in the New York area,^v the number of Jews is increasing, along with the observance of biblical injunctions.

But we're like all other people, and there are numerous problems among the Orthodox as well. The difficulties of adapting to modern society, and the close watching by modern society, have led both to scandals resulting from unacceptable behavior by some who fashion themselves as “good” Jews, and to increasing pressure on Israel both by non-Jews and some Jews as well. It has also led to greater pressure on Israel, since many view this as a politically correct way to express anti-Semitism, a bias that has existed in countless different forms for millennia.

To a degree, the anti-Semitism has helped us to survive. Jews were kept separate from non-Jewish communities and were united in the will to survive. With an inclination toward knowledge – especially of their religion – and the exclusion from the outside world, the Jewish community developed a large number of Rabbis and scholars^vi who interpreted the holy books far beyond what was sensible^vii or true, and that, even if inapplicable to our times, is what we have to follow. It has become tradition, even if we might prefer a different view of the material.

But I recognize that much of this came about because of the insularity forced by anti-Semitism, and I recognize that the activities of those scholars, and the traditions that arose from their debates, are what have helped us to survive, and that modern fashions and trends are destructive. And the loyalty of so many Jews provides the glue that will continue to keep our community together, notwithstanding the pressure from so many of our own people to adapt to the society in which we live.

So I can live with the traditions. And I can live with the knowledge that some of what I know – which is everything – is wrong. My view of life, even if it's a view anchored in the past – no, because it's a view anchored in the past – is true. As I said, I know everything. And I don't have to tell you (I said also that I don't intend to tell you everything) there is nothing new under the sun. Just trust me.

Next episode: “Forethought” – Full frontal capacity.

i       And I know inane.

ii      Did this all start with Francis Gary Powers and the Pentagon in the 1950s?

iii    The fringes or threads mentioned in Bamidbar (Numbers) 15:38 and D'varim (Deuteronomy) 22:12 that are worn “on the corners of your garments.”

iv    Although more and more liberal and unaffiliated Jews now question that support. The greater the temporal separation from the Holocaust and the founding of Israel, and the more detachment from Judaism as a religion, the less interest Jews have in Israel.

v     The numbers come from a UJA-Federation report and include the facts that 40 percent of the city's Jews consider themselves Orthodox – it was 33 percent in 2002 – and 74 percent of all Jewish children in the city are Orthodox.

vi    A cadre of padres?

vii   In fact, some of the scenarios suggested in the Talmud are bizarre or laughable, and some of the science and history is clearly fallacious. We often view what we don't like as metaphorical, and look for a more acceptable interpretation.