Month: April 2016 – כ״ט באדר ב׳ תשע״ו

State of Israel Bad, Israeli Jews Good

Israeli Civility

by JA Mag | in Israel

By Irv Cantor

Inconsiderate behavior, illogical rules and regulations, bureaucracy. How often do you hear American olim complaining about these aspects of Israeli society?

Truthfully, however, American olim would adjust much more easily to Israeli society if they would accept the cultural differences. It is also important to realize that cultural norms evolve; even if it takes time, there is no question that Israeli society is undergoing change—change that Americans would consider “for the better.”

What are some of the cultural differences that American olim have difficulty with? Let’s look first at the salesperson-customer relationship. In America, you hear the refrain “the customer is always right,” and generally businesses adhere to this principle. In Israel, however, the seller is the expert, the one who lets you know what you want. On the up side, the Israeli seller is often looking out for you, protecting you from purchasing an inferior product, and offering you the best deal for your money.

Consider this real-life example. I decided to end my cable TV service and use an antenna to get the various channels. Friends showed me their antennas, which cost about 150 shekels. I went to an electronics store and asked what was available in that price range. The salesman asked, “Where in Jerusalem do you live?” Surprised by his question, I gave him my address. He took out a sheet of paper, drew a rough map of my neighborhood and asked me to indicate the exact location of my building. I complied. He then told me that all I needed was a small thin wire antenna for 30 shekels. Doubtful, I asked if he was sure. He reached for a box with an image of a large plastic bird-shaped antenna. He said, “This is 150 shekels. It’s ugly! If the wire antenna does not work, come back and I will sell this one to you.” I bought the wire antenna.

It worked beautifully.

American olim complain about the seeming rudeness they encounter, but perhaps the best word to help a newoleh understand the supposed insensitivity found among some Israelis is “family.” Think about arguments that erupt in the typical family: voices shouting, hands flying about for emphasis, faces turning away from each other and then toward each other again . . . and then a pause and silence. Sometimes there may be a resolution, other times not. Either way, the family goes on as a family, and those who so passionately disagreed a few minutes earlier are helping and supporting each other minutes later. So it is in Israel. Directness and honesty are valued. Grudges are not held for long.

A friend of mine who made aliyah recently from the States stood in line in a supermarket. A man cut the line directly in front of him. My friend didn’t say anything, but thought “only in Israel.” When the woman in front of the line cutter had to pay for her groceries, she realized she was five shekels short. As she tried to decide which item to leave out, a hand appeared in front of her with a five-shekel coin.

It was the line cutter.

And yet, despite their reputation, Israelis are changing. Israelis are becoming more customer-service oriented, more considerate and more thoughtful. Most likely, this change is the result of several factors. The Israeli government has created new training programs for government workers focusing on attitude and customer service. Additionally, Israelis travel much more extensively nowadays and are exposed to different cultures. Recently, I sat in a Jerusalem municipal office, waiting to pay my city taxes. To note my turn, as in most offices, I had to take a petek, ticket, with a number on it. My ticket was labeled 187. A digital sign on the wall indicated the number of the person currently being served. It displayed number 165. I waited. When my number was called, I approached the clerk. She said, “I’m sorry, but the other side of the room is for paying taxes. Wait there. Keep your petek.” Frustrated, I walked around to the other large waiting room, sat down and glanced at the digital sign on the wall. It displayed number 15. Grumbling in disbelief, I thought, here goes my whole day. I watched the numbers go from 15 to 16, to 17 and then—to the consternation of everyone around me—to 187. As I thankfully took my turn, the sign reverted back to 18.

Americans value civility and the suppression of true feelings. Israelis prize truth and directness. To an Israeli, civility is often perceived as dishonesty or deception. Politeness can sometimes conceal or misrepresent true feelings. Israelis also place great value on being an am echad.

Israeli drivers are known to lean on their horns much of the time. But you will also see an Israeli driver lean out of his window, yell at the incompetence of other drivers and then suddenly pull over to the shoulder to help a driver with a mechanical problem.

Somehow, the small traces of insensitivity observed sometimes are overshadowed by the much larger and deeper demonstrations of caring and concern. In Israel, we are all each other’s mother, father, brother or sister. Israeli civility is not superficial courtesy. Israeli civility means we are part of a special people who care about each and every individual.

Dr. Irv Cantor happily retired to Jerusalem from New Jersey in 2012, after a dual career in psychology and pharmaceutical research.

This article was featured in Jewish Action Spring 2015.

From OU.org, here.

The Abuse Awareness Revolution

We’ve come a long way – It is now commonplace to criticize rabbis for failure to deal with abuse

Not too long ago – only about three years – when I was contemplating publishing my books on child abuse, I was advised by rabbis, friends, and family that it was suicidal. There were two major reasons given. 1) “We don’t talk about abuse.” Stores told me they would not sell any book that had the word abuse in its title or used the word “sex” in it. Someone who had initially offered support for the book, withdrew it when he saw that I actually explicitly discussed sexual abuse in the book. 2) “You can’t criticize rabbis for failure to deal with the issue.” Or rather I was told I can’t make the claim that rabbis were not following halacha – it was viewed as an oxymoron. Obviously rabbis follow halacha because that is what rabbis do – at least Chareidi rabbis.

In fact, I was told that I was going to be put into cherem and that nobody would sell the book or buy it. Rav Sternbuch, however, was insistent that the issue of child abuse needed to be dealt with and he urged the publication of the book.
Fast forward to the present. In the past week, I have had the following encounters.
1) After kayaking on the Jordan River – someone gave me a seat on the overcrowded bus returning us to the parking lot. In the ensuing conversation, I discovered that he had a kollel for Choshen Mishpat. I mentioned that I was dealing with child abuse and C.M. 388. He responded that the rabbis either didn’t know halacha or were grossly misapplying it in regards to abusers. Furthermore, he had quit a good teaching job at a yeshiva because of his disgust with the school’s failure to deal properly with child abuse. Thus after a few minutes of first meeting another Chareidi Jew we were openly discussing the problem of abuse and the failure of rabbis to follow the halacha.
2) I had a long talk with a relative who is a solid talmid chachom learning in Kollel. He is very strict about lashon harah, respecting rabbinical authority and is strongly against Internet, smart phones and believes in Daas Torah and only reads the Yated. Yet he readily acknowledged that he personally knew cases of abuse that were mishandled by rabbonim and is fully aware of the cowardice of poskim in dealing with the issue of mesira and calling the police. He also expressed surprise that I thought that any rabbi would apologize for making a serious mistake.
3) Today I met a very well known Yerushalmi posek and rav that I haven’t seen for years. He remembered who I was and asked me what I was working on. When I responded, “Child abuse” – he readily expressed strong approval. When I told him my biggest problem was that the rabbonim don’t follow the halacha – this well known exemplar of the rabbinic establishment’s immediate response was, “I can tell you some really good stories about that.” There was no hesitation, no defensiveness. It was simply an obvious fact – such as the sun rises in the morning or objects fall when dropped.

קול החינוך גליון #82

בהכוונת גדולי התורה שליט”א

יו”ל ע”י ‘ועד הורים’ למסירת מידע ומשלוח מסמכים בס”ד 03-691-5752 :טלפקס 6915752@okmail.co.il

קול החינוך עוסק במלחמת מדינת ישראל בחינוך יהודי עצמאי.

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Reprinted with permission.

Rabbi Hirsch on Tzara’as

A Message in White1

We are struck by the Torah’s treatment of nega’m, the discolorations of people, garments and dwellings that our parshah deals with at great length. We are baffled by the complexity of its details. We begin our attempt to decipher its message with the easiest step: understanding that we are not looking at the Torah’s prescription for a natural occurrence.

Many outside of our circles took the simple and completely unsubstantiated route of seeing – especially in regard to tzara’as on human skin – an ancient approach to a medical issue. Numerous clues in our parsha belie this possibility. Not the least of which is the role of the kohain, without whose pronouncement the afflicted person continues business as usual. If this section was the reaction of the ancients to a dread and uncomprehended disease, the metzora ought to have been confined or banished from the community immediately. His cure can come later; the first order of business should be to minimize the risks to others.

Tzara’as, however, is not leprosy[2]. The classic progress of the true medical affliction, turning the skin white from head to toe, is not called tzora’as but shechin Mitzrayim, and is halachically excluded from the treatment in our parshah.

What, then, are we to make of it? The Torah later cautions that we take heed about the plague of tzora’as, and not forget what Hashem did to Miriam[3]. We could ask for no better assistance in breaking the code of our parshah.

Miriam had spoken lashon hora about Moshe. Implicitly, she had also over-rated herself relative to Moshe. For these sins – decidedly social sins- she is banished from the community, and must wait outside its limits for seven days. When Moshe entreats Hashem on her behalf, He responds that if a human father had displayed strong disapproval of his daughter (disapproval that bordered on contempt) in a dramatic manner, would she not be shamed into retreating from his presence for a week?

The message is clear. Tzora’as is a dramatic message of disapproval sent by our Divine Father in response to social sins, and meant to induce shame in the transgressor, who must then in solitude consider his unworthiness to remain in the company of the community. He deserves to be banished from the special community of men in which Hashem’s Presence takes its place in the mishkan which is its fulcrum of activity and ideological focal point.

Chazal take full note of this. They tell us that tzora’as is a Divine reaction to lashon hora. Disparaging, belittling, and unflattering speech drives wedges between people, and unravels the cohesion of a community. He who causes separation between man and wife, between friend and friend, must be separated from the community. As part of his atonement, he offers two birds, animals the tweet and chatter as he did. Furthermore, Chazal see in nega’im in general a connection to a host of social sins, including spilling of blood, perjury, pride, and selfishness that keeps a person indifferent to the needs of others[4]. A slightly different formulation[5] speaks not of the sin, but of the parts of the body that commit the sin: a lying tongue, proud eyes, heart pondering violence, etc. Chazal are saying that all of Man’s organs and limbs are meant to do good, help others, seek good and justice. By perverting their purpose, they deserve to be stricken.

The details begin to fall into place. Tzora’as strikes a person’s skin, the body’s chief interface with the external environment. Skin connects him with the world outside himself, senses the impact of what is apart from him, and bears its immediate impact in place of the internal organs. When he does not properly feel the most important parts of the external world, i.e. the needs of his fellow citizens, he is made to feel the touch of Hashem upon him.

Some part of his skin turns white. This may indicate that he has “died,” in a manner of speaking. He has become numb, in part, to his closeness to G-d, which is what ordinarily animates and sensitizes him. Alternatively, the white color may indicate the ashen complexion of deep, penetrating shame. The one to “out” him, to make his deficiency public, is the kohain, acting as the surrogate for the mishkan he represents, and its message of all that is proper and holy that we are expected to do when we ask Hashem to dwell amongst us. (The nega is clearly meant to be a message shared by others. To be considered tzora’as, it must lodge on an area of the skin that is plain and visible, but not in a fold of skin, apparent only to the afflicted.) The kohain does nothing less than pronounce him, in the name of the mikdosh, unworthy to live within the company of men. The Torah treats the metzora severely. No other person who is tamei is fully ejected from the borders of the community.

The progress of the plague is often complicated. A nega may be tentative, sending him into isolation for a test period. Sometimes, it is definitively declared by the kohain. In both cases, he spends his time in isolation, mulling over what has gone wrong in his relations to others. The point of the “test” weeks may very well be to see if he responds to the message by mending his ways. (This may also explain the curious halacha that a kohain does not pronounce a nega tamei during a holiday or the week of wedding celebration. Coupled with his receiving a warning sign in the undiagnosed patch of discoloration on his body, the frequent and positive social interactions available at such times may be enough to stir him to repent.)

Three symptoms force a declaration of certain, definitive tumah: a spreading of the discoloration, a hair in its midst that turns white, and the appearance of fresh, unblemished skin in the midst of the nega. The first is intuitive; the other two require some explanation.

Hair, in a sense, performs the opposite function of skin. If skin is meant to sense and respond, hair is made to protect against sensation. It shields the body from casual stimulation of the skin underneath. A white discoloration symbolizes the death of the person’s capacity to respond positively to others. A hair turning white signifies further deterioration. Even his defenses against negative influences upon him have withered and suffered.

The emergence of healthy flesh may indicate that all his efforts at improvement have proved insufficient. He has generated pure, healthy flesh – but it has not been enough to overcome the dead flesh. His good remains imprisoned within his deficiency.

Curiously, if the discoloration erupts over the entire body of the metzora, he finds temporary respite from his tumah. Yet, if the same were to occur without any prior discoloration at all, he becomes a definitive metzora! The point may be that a person cannot be expected to heal himself unless the memory of his old, undamaged self is fresh in his mind. His association with the community and with the mikdosh in its midst must still be a working influence upon him. If a message of all-enveloping tumah and failure is delivered to him within a state of prior tumah, he is powerless to make the internal changes that he needs. He must wait for a partial remission of his symptoms, at which point he is returned to his isolation!

The nega of a small child would seem to undermine this entire approach. Any Divine message about faulty behavior should only be given to someone morally responsible for his actions. Minors would seem to be excluded. The nega, however, may be intended for the parents, not the child. While entrusted to their care, the child completely depends upon them. This message may be the most effective of all. It tells the parents that if they cannot motivate themselves to change for their own sakes, they should have compassion on their child, and realize how their shortcomings will damage his future development.

We now stand in awe before the beauty of this parshah. No human court will or can address these flaws in character and in relating to others. Only G-d can do that. When the Jewish people live on their land and in the presence of His mikdosh, His love for even the sinner moves Him to reach out and touch him – and to describe in advance how that message will come.

1. Based on the Hirsch Chumash, Tazria, end
2. In fact, the medical condition, Hansen’s disease, is not virulently infectious. It is contagious for a relatively short period of time, and about 95% of people are immune to it.)
3. Devarim 24:8
4. Arachin 16A
5. Vayikra Rabbah, Metzora

From Torah.org, here.