My Feet Are Up, My Soul Is...

In one week it will be Passover, and, to be perfectly honest, I am uncertain what I am supposed to be "feeling" right now. All around me people are talking about cleaning and cooking, about not forgetting the meaning of the holiday amidst all that cleaning and cooking. As for me, well, let's just say that it's Friday afternoon and I am blogging. I don't clean or cook for the holiday. (A fact for which I am always grateful to my brother and sister-in-law, who have hosted the seder for over 15 years.)

The fact that I go to family for seder does not mean I have never cleaned or cooked for Pesach. Some years, in the past, I have had to be home for Chol Hamoed and the last days. However, this is the third year in a row that I have worked out a plan to be away.I can be perfectly honest and admit that visiting friends and relatives is my cover story. I don't like to clean, I never have and I never will. More than not liking to clean, I'm terrible at it. There's always something more interesting to distract me (like, say, writing this post).

Those of you making Pesach are reading this and rolling your eyes, perhaps even wondering if I am talking about cleaning just to join in the ranks of Jewish women everywhere...to be part of the holiday.

You may be right.

When people in my neighborhood ask me how my cleaning is going, I feel almost guilty mentioning that I am going away. I always quickly emphasize that we always go to my brother's and his family comes to us for Shavuot, and that it is an eight hour drive, and just how thoroughly thankful I am.

At the same time, a small part of me is regretful that I do not have that same Pesach cleaning furver going on. Every Jewish holiday has some sort of ritual that helps us to connect with the spiritual aspect of the holiday. Waving the lulav and estrog is a physical declaration of what is best express by our children as "Hashem is truly everywhere." The mitzvot of Purim remind us that it should not take the threat of annihilation to bring the Jewish people together.  One might even say that the very lack of rituals of Shavuot is rife with meaning in that it helps us connect to the fact that the foundation of it all is the gift of Torah.

I'll still have pesach, matzah and maror, the core of the Pesach seder. I'll still feast on my unleavened bread the whole week through. But the preparations for this holiday do serve as a catalyst to understand servitude and freedom (a whole other topic, of course), and, at the same time, to prepare ourselves to experience the deeper meanings of the seder.

Of course, I could just "pretend" and clean the house anyway. (I am doing one or two rooms, but not the tough ones.) That, however, is like "pretending" chocolate isn't kosher. It doesn't really work, at least not for me.

Because of the way the holiday falls out this year, on Friday night, and the way that we travel,  we might not even be able to do bedikatz chametz to its fullest extent. In fact, we might have to search the min-van as our bedikatz since we will already have sold the house and will be in hotel.

In a way, I feel awkward admitting that I feel stuck without the physical work. I shouldn't need a physical act to connect to the spiritual. But I do. That's part of who I am. It's part of why I have such challenges working out my spiritual "chametz" - my anger, my arrogance, my impatience, my need for acknowledgement (dont' forget to like this post).

For now, I can take a deep breath and tell myself, once again (so often again), that I will try harder. And I will, at least for an hour.

Defining Freedom for Jews

Originally published on Huffington Post.

 

What is freedom? Ask anyone on the streets and they might define it as the ability to do what one wants. Others might say that it is the state of having full control of one's life. In the last year, the Jewish world has been offered several fascinating discussions on what it means to be Jewish and be "free." Whether this pertains to the right to circumcise one's son or to declaring one's break from the chassidic world on national television, the conversation on freedom is ever pertinent to the Jewish people.

In a few weeks, Jews throughout the United States will sit down at their seders and recount the Exodus from Egypt, the liberation of our ancestors from slavery. Living in the "land of the free" makes it all the more difficult for 21st century Jews to fully grasp this experience (in addition to the 3,000 years of history that separate us from the event), and yet the sages (already 1,500 years distant from Egypt) who compiled the haggadah insist that we must relate to the events of the Exodus as if we ourselves had experienced them. This is the meaning of Avadim Hayinu, the beginning of Maggid, the section that begins the response to the four questions.

With this in mind, many seder leaders use the poetry of Avadim Hayinu to open up a discussion on the meaning of freedom to each of the participants, perhaps giving each person an opportunity to explain how they view freedom.

A conversation on freedom can occur on many levels. Personal freedom is ever present in American minds, and therefore almost everyone can express some way in which they experience freedom. Only three generations away from the Holocaust and one generation away from the end of the Soviet Union, even the younger generation of Jews can connect to our political freedom and feel gratitude for being able to publicly celebrate a seder.

For all this talk of personal freedom, religious freedom, political freedom, etc., it is important not to forget the significance at Passover of spiritual freedom.

In Egypt, the Israelites were trapped by more than their taskmasters. Their enslavement ran far deeper than being forced to build store-cities and make bricks out of hay. The Egyptian sojourn of Jacob and his family, the Children of Israel, caused a deviation from the spiritual journey they were meant to be on in the land of Canaan, a journey begun by Abraham and Sarah. According to the sages, by the time Moses led the Jews out of Egypt, they were spiritually bereft and were distinguishable from the Egyptians only by their names, their language and their mode of dress. They knew they were Israelites. They knew they were different. They knew that their ancestors had a special relationship with God, but their understanding of this relationship was hazy -- blurred by the idolatrous and amoral society which surrounded them. This spiritual haze explains why, on several occasions after leaving Egypt, the Israelites demanded to return back to slavery.

Some commentators explain that what the people truly feared, both at the Sea of Reeds and in the Wilderness, was not death, but freedom! Suddenly they were responsible for their own decisions and their own actions. It was easy to live the Egyptian lifestyle, even if one was a slave. Being free means accepting absolute responsibility for one's own behavior, which also made one distinctly aware of how one's own actions effect the community.

When the Israelites left Egypt, they were led to Mount Sinai. Within two months (7 weeks, actually) of leaving the land of their oppressors, they were asked to accept the Torah, a complex, detailed, and, some might say, strict, set of laws that included numerous capital offenses. The sages refer to the holiday of Passover as zman chay'roo'tay'noo, the time of our freedom. In Ethics of The Fathers (6:2), Rabbi Joshua ben Levi says: "... And it says (Exodus 32:16): 'And the tablets are the work of God, and the writing is God's writing, engraved on the tablets.' Don't read the text as 'chah'rut' (engraved) but rather as'chay'root' (liberty) -- for there is no free individual, except for one who occupies himself with the study of Torah..."

How can Torah observance be equated to freedom -- after all, don't we speak of the "yoke" of Torah and describe Torah as a "burden"?

One certainly might view the mitzvot as restrictive, unless it is understood that without structure and order in the world, without rules and boundaries, what remains is anarchy and chaos. In the 21st century, recognizing the benefits of the Torah's law is often made more difficult by the very freedom in which we live. In the quest for multi-cultural freedom, laws that have strengthened the Jewish people for thousands of years are cast aside as archaic and traditions that have enriched Jewish generations are denounced as irrelevant. Inherent in the Torah and in Jewish tradition, however, is a guideline for attaining spiritual freedom. Depending on each person, ths can be a long journey or a short one. In Judaism, the greatest importance is placed on continuing to grow and to learn.

In just a few weeks, Jews around the world will once again gather for sedarim. Some will following the path of their parents, sitting down with the same family year after year. Others will find new ways of celebrating the seder and new friends with whom to spend it. No matter where your seder is held, remember to take hold of the opportunity and discover the great freedom inherent in accepting the yoke of Torah.

Foods of Shabbat: Come for the Kugel

Originally published on Huffington Post.

What is there to love about Shabbat? It's a day to rest? It's a day to sleep? Or perhaps, like thousands of of men and women profess after their first full Shabbat experience, it's the food! Challah and fish, chicken and kugel, perhaps chocolate cake for dessert. What's not to like! Some Shabbat food is so delicious, one might even forget to check one's Blackberry!

Here's a verbal taste of a Friday night feast, and a sampling of the deeper meaning of these traditional foods.

Fish: Considered both a reminder of the creation of life (since fish were the first animals created) and of the Messianic Age (when it is said that the righteous will feast upon the Leviathan, a giant fish), fish has almost always held a special place of honor at the Shabbat table. In the Talmud (Shabbat 118b), fish is specifically mentioned as a way in which one can demonstrate delight in Shabbat, even if it is simply a bit of chopped up (gefilte) fish. Generally served as an appetizer, fish, which is never eaten together with meat, is served on separate plates and eaten with separate "fish forks" in accordance with the prescription of Maimonides.

Soup: Chicken soup's place in Jewish life is rooted in Shabbat. Ashkenazi Jews in the shtetls of Europe were often impoverished, and a chicken (or part of a chicken) boiled together with vegetables or noodles and made into soup was a special delight that could be shared with the entire family. While chicken soup does not enjoy the same status in Sephardi culture as it does in Ashkenazi homes, Sephardi cuisine also has many delicious chicken soup recipes.

Meat/Chicken: It is a mitzvah to enjoy Shabbat. The sages often relate the feeling of oneg(enjoyment and pleasure) to eating meat. Since meat was often financially prohibitive, chicken became a frequent substitute.

Rice/Kugel: In Sephardi homes, it is customary to have a dish that is made with rice. In Ashkenazi homes, one is often served kugel, traditionally lokshin (noodle) or potato. Kugel, similar to "pudding," is a dish that varies greatly in its ingredients, depending upon family preferences.

(Remember, the actual fare of Shabbat dinner varies, depending on custom and personal taste. Many people simply serve their favorite foods, while others stick to the traditional Shabbat cuisine.)

Obviously, one can enjoy a grand feast at any time. But a fascinating discussion in the Talmud points to what sets the Shabbat feast apart from any other feast:

"The Emperor [Hadrian] said to Rabbi Joshua ben Chanania: 'Why does the Shabbat dish have such a fragrant odor?' 'We have a certain seasoning,' replied he [Rabbi Joshua ben Chanania], 'called Shabbat, which we put into it, and that gives it a fragrant odor'" (Shabbat 119a).

The Talmud does not specify to which singular Shabbat dish the emperor was referring. However, it is not hard to imagine that it was similar to cholent or chamim, a stew that simmers from Friday evening until the Shabbat day meal.

Cholent could be perceived as the original "protest" food, since it was noted by 10th century Jewish scholars that the purpose of a hot stew on Shabbat day is to underscore and emphasize our belief in the Oral Tradition of the Mishna and the Talmud.

During the time of the Greeks and the Romans, there was a sect of Jews called Saduccees who denied the authority of the Oral Law. While the Saduccees, as a group, did not survive the Roman exile, their belief in the literal interpretation of the Bible, without the instruction and explanation of the Oral Law, was revived during the Gaonic period (eighth to 10th centuries) by the Karaites.

The Oral Law explains that a Jew is permitted to have a fire burning on Shabbat, it just can't be lit, transferred or enhanced on Shabbat. The literalists, such as the Saduccees and the Karaites, maintained that the prohibition of fire on Shabbat was total, i.e. that "You shall not burn fire in all your houses" (Exodus 35:3) excluded allowing even a fire lit before Shabbat to continue burning.

Whereas hot food on Friday night could remain warm from before Shabbat, having hot food at Shabbat lunch signifies the use of a fire that existed from before Shabbat. That is why Jews all over the world developed a dish which some call chamin, meaning hot, and others call cholent (which is a combination of two Old French words for hot and slow).

Partaking in the delightful delicacies of Shabbat is just one of the many ways in which Jews around the world celebrate Shabbat. This Friday night, March 2, more than 500 synagogues and Jewish organizations will be celebrating Shabbat Across America and Canada, a program of Jewish unity sponsored by the National Jewish Outreach Program (Click here to fnd a participating location near you).

NJOP also wants to know about the beautiful individual Shabbat celebrations that are also taking place across the continent. Their new My Shabbat Project is an interactive board that lets individuals "pin" their locations and share with the world their own exciting plans for Shabbat.

Hanukkah and the Greeks' Grudge

Originally published on Huffington Post.

The basic story behind the holiday of Hanukkah is fairly well-known. The Selucid (Syrian-Greek empire) oppressed the Jews. The Jews fought back under the leadership of the Maccabees (particularly Judah). The underdog Jews won and, in the process of rededicating the Temple, found only one flask of oil that miraculously lit the menorah for eight straight days. Great... enough said, let's go eat some latkes.

So what went wrong between the Greeks and the Jews. After all, in the initial conquest of Judea by the Greeks, Alexander the Great is viewed by the sages as a friend to the Jews. In fact, the Talmud (Yoma 69a) relates that when Alexander came to Judea, he refrained from attacking Jerusalem because he recognized Simeon the Just, the High Priest, from the dreams he had each night before a victorious battle (for more on this story, click here).

But the events of Hanukkah took place over a hundred years after Alexander's empire was divided into the Antigonid Empire in Greece, the Selucid Empire in Mesopotamia and Persia, the Ptolemaic Kingdom based in Egypt. By the time Antiochus IV Epiphanes, the villain of the Hanukkah story, assumed the throne of the Selucid empire in 175 BCE, Judea was under Selucid control.

The Greeks are looked upon by many historians as a unifying and civilizing force. The vast empire, even after it was divided into three, brought a shared culture to much of the "known world." Judea was not exempt from the enthrallment of its citizens with Grecian society. There was great divisiveness among the Jews over people accepting Hellenistic culture. But a core majority refused to embrace this foreign way of life. And while this probably frustrated the ruling Selucuds, it was not a cause for persecution.

Timing is everything, however. Just as Antiochus IV Epiphanes was backtracking after a bid to conquer Egypt was thwarted by threats from Rome, he learned that the Judeans had removed from office the man (Menalaus) he had appointed as High Priest (a position of political as well as religious power). According to The Second Book of Maccabees, Menelaus was from the tribe of Benjamin -- not a member of the priesthood, or even of the tribe of Levi (who were responsible for the Temple). The appointment of Menelaus was perceived as part of the Hellenizing campaign of the Selucids and those in Judea who wished to assimilate into the Hellenistic culture. From Antiochus' viewpoint, the problem with the Jewish people, the reason that they would dare to oust Menelaus from the position of High Priest, was their adherence to the Torah.

In retribution, Antiochus forbade the celebration of Rosh Chodesh (the new month), the observance of Shabbat, brit milah (circumcision), and the study of Torah. Why were these mitzvot noted in particular?

The very first commandment that the Jewish people received as a nation was "This month shall be yours as the first of months" (Exodus 12:1-2), which instructs the Jews to sanctify the beginning of each new month. In ancient times, when there was a Temple and aSanhedrin (Jewish Supreme Court), witnesses would come and declare that the new moon had been seen. The sages would then declare the month sanctified. This sanctification of the new moon was a declaration that God controls time. The Selucids felt threatened by the "revolutionary" Jewish concept of Divinely ordained time.

The Selucids were against the keeping of Shabbat, not because it sanctified time, but because it was a day of rest. "Six days shall you work and do all your labor, but the seventh day is Shabbat for the Lord your God. On it, you shall do no [creative] work" (Exodus 20:9-10). This contradicted to the creative essence of the Hellenistic culture. Through their creativity, the Selucids proclaimed their might over the world. The Jewish idea of taking one day off to demonstrate belief in God's control of the world, negated the Selucid belief in the ultimate power of the individual.

Of all the Jewish laws, however, the Selucids found circumcision to be the most abhorrent. Remember, the Selucids idealized the beauty of the physical form, particularly the male body. The idea that the Jews would willingly mar their bodies was outrageous to them. On a deeper level, however, circumcision represents the human being's ability to have control over one's physical self. The Selucids believed in fulfilling all of their passions, and found Judaism's devotion to self-discipline unacceptable.

Torah study was prohibited by the Selucids because it promoted all of these commandments and more. The Torah teaches humankind to strive to be God-like. In contrast, the Greeks created gods who acted with less dignity than many humans. Thus, Torah in-and-of-itself was a threat to their culture and philosophy.

Each of these outlawed mitzvot are actually represented by the festival of Hanukkah: Hanukkah lasts for eight days, the same number of days before a brit milah. Similarly, one cannot celebrate Hanukkah without observing at least one Shabbat (if not two). Additionally, since the holiday begins on the 25th of Kislev and lasts for eight days, the holiday always enters into the month of Tevet -- necessitating the celebration of the new month (Rosh Chodesh).

The fourth mitzvah, Torah study, is actually at the heart of Hanukkah's attraction for children. The word Hanukkah shares the same root as the Hebrew word chinuch, which means education. From the game of dreidel to the giving of gifts, many Hanukkah customs stem from the legacy of the educational zeal of the Jews.

Even after the Selucids banned the study of Torah, many Jews continued to practice their Judaism, even under threat of death. According to tradition, students would gather together in a cave to study Torah, leaving one man on guard standing by the entrance. When the lookout signaled that soldiers were coming, the books were quickly hidden and the students took out spinning tops, making it appear as if they were gambling (which was perfectly acceptable to the Selucids). We commemorate their ingenuity and willingness to risk their lives with the game of dreidel!

What about the gifts? The Talmud, in Shabbat 23b, teaches that one who is diligent in lighting Hanukkah candles will have children who are scholars. In fact, the desire for children to grow into scholars was one of the motivations for the custom of giving Hanukkah gelt (which, under modern influence, has been turned into Hanukkah presents). It became a custom to give a little money (gelt) to children as a reward for studying. Children who showed mastery of the laws and customs of the holiday, or who were diligent in their studies, were rewarded with a shiny coin. Over time, the simple giving of gelt (coins or presents) itself, became a Hanukkah custom.

While gifts and games appear to be offshoots of the holiday, they actually represent the essential spirit of Hanukkah. What is it that we are teaching our children on Hanukkah? What was the purpose of the battle of the Maccabees? That their children and their children's children would be able to be knowledgeable about their Jewish heritage and live a Jewish life.

Some Jews Don't Eat Turkey!

Originally posted on Huffington Post.

Some Jews don't eat turkey, and they do so out of religious conviction. That does not, of course, mean that these Jews lack patriotic feelings or do not appreciate the great freedom that they enjoy in the United States of America. No, these Jews who don't eat turkey are worried about the bird itself.

While the Torah specifically identifies those features that make animals and fish kosher (chews cud and split hooves for animals, scales and fins for fish), it does not specify the identifying features of a kosher bird. Instead it states that one may eat "all the clean birds," and then lists only the birds which one may not eat (Deuteronomy 14:11-20).

This has created a problem because not all the birds identified in the Torah's prohibited list are known today. The Code of Jewish Law (Shulchan Aruch completed in 1563) therefore ruled that only those birds traditionally known to be eaten by Jewish communities were allowed. This included chicken and ducks.

The turkey, however, was not a traditional bird. Turkeys are indigenous to the "New World" and were not seen by European Jews until explorers brought them back from America. As turkeys became more common fare in the general European community, the rabbis began to receive questions about the bird's kosher status.

The turkey, which shares many similarities to other known kosher birds -- the nature of their stomach, the shape of their beak, the structure of their feet, and that they were not predatory -- was deemed kosher by almost all authorities.

Speaking of turkeys, did you know that the Hebrew word for turkey is "tar'negol hodu,"literally, an "Indian Rooster." It came by this name because turkeys are indigenous to North America, which the first explorers thought was actually part of India. The country of India is called Hodu in Hebrew, most commonly recognized from the opening lines ofMegillat Esther (Book of Esther, Purim), when King Achashverosh is depicted as ruling a kingdom that stretched "me'hodu v'ad kush" from India to Ethiopia.

"So what?" you might ask. Actually, this really might be one of life's weird coincidences, since there is another way to translate tar'negol hodu. Using the other meaning of the wordhodu--thanks, a turkey in Hebrew actually means a "rooster of thanks."

The phrase from Tehillim (Psalms) 118, Hodu LaHashem Ki Tov, is generally translated as, "Give thanks to God because He is good." However, the phrase may also be translated as, "Give thanks to God because it is good." Giving thanks to God is good for us!

Giving thanks is a natural and continual part of Jewish life. Indeed, the first words one is supposed to say upon waking in the morning is "Mo'deh ani li'fa'nech'ah melech chai v'kayam, she'heh'cheh'zarta bee nishmatee b'chemla--raba emuna'tehcha. I give thanks before You, living and eternal King, Who has returned my soul to me with compassion--abundant is Your faithfulness!" Daily, Jews thank God for the very fact of waking up in the morning.

Modeh Ani is about more than just religious devotion (although it is that). Modeh Anireminds a person that he/she must have, and demonstrate, hakarat hatov, appreciation of the good, throughout the day. It sets the tone for a day that should include thanking the person who held the door for an extra moment, acknowledging the driver who allowed others to merge, smiling in support at the police officers who protect the streets, etc.

The American celebration of Thanksgiving is a day that focuses on hakarat hatov. For many American Jews, it is one of the few holidays that can be celebrated as part of a national community because it is a day that does not have religious connotations. Some American Jews, however, really don't celebrate the day at all, and there are several reasons for this, although numerous religious authorities have maintained that there is no prohibition to enjoying a turkey dinner of Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is a unique holiday that reminds us, through the story of the first meal between the early European settlers and the native people of the land, of the great dreams upon which America was built. At the same time it is a day that is focused on hodu in general. Whether we choose to focus on the turkey or thanking God and those around us, is a choice we each make.

Jewish in Name: What's the Point of Having a Hebrew Name?

Originally posted on Huffington Post.

A few months back, celebrity watchers held their collective breaths awaiting the announcement of the name of Natalie Portman's new son. Fans were curious whether her Israeli/Jewish identity would effect the choice of name, and while Aleph is certainly not a traditional Jewish name, it is unquestionably Hebrew (being the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet). For Jewish fans, the choice of the name was strange but, in a way, reassuring. As far as she has come professionally, she is still connected to her Jewish-Israeli identity.

Whether a person uses it on a regular basis or not, a Hebrew name is one of the critical totems of Jewish identity. It connects a person to his/her family and to generations of Jews. Imagine how many Sarahs and Isaacs have listened to the resonant call of the shofar or swept out their cupboards to prepare for Passover.

Young Aleph does not share a name with any of the usual Biblical heros, but the use of Hebrew words as names is not without precedence. Pesach (Passover), Yom Tov (a festival day) and Abba (father) are not-uncommon Hebrew names for boys. Tova (good) and Mazal (fate) are Hebrew words used as girl names.

Hebrew is an ancient language that has survived two millennia of exile. In many countries it was almost lost save as the language of prayer and study. Hebrew names, however, were slower to change and many Jews still have a Hebrew name given to them at birth, even if they use an English name in daily life. That Hebrew name connects a Jewish person to some key moment in life.

The first, and most obvious, ceremonial use of a Jewish name is at a child's naming. In fact, prior to a boy's brit milah (circumcision) or a girl's naming (either with a special prayer recited as part of a Torah reading service or at a simchat bat celebration), it is traditional to keep the baby's name private until the official naming. While there is no specific source for this tradition, the custom is so entrenched in Jewish life that it is now considered k'halacha, like law.

One's Hebrew name is used for all synagogue ceremonies, such as being called to the Torah for an alliyah, and every religious milestone is marked with one's official name. Knowing the Hebrew names of the bride and groom is essential for the writing of a proper ketubah, the Jewish marriage contract. Likewise, these names must be used in the writing of a get, a Jewish bill of divorce. With the final life cycle, death, a person's Hebrew name is left as a permanent record on his/her tombstone and is used in memorial prayers at the funeral, as well as on the annual yahrtzeit (anniversary of the death).

Beyond the life cycle and synagogue honors, one's name is used when a person is ill or in need of any sort of prayers. In such cases, the person is called so-and-so ben/bat(son/daughter) mother's name. (If one does not know the Hebrew name of the parent, one may use the English name. If neither Hebrew nor English name of the mother is known, one should say so-and-so ben/bat Sarah. If the father's Hebrew name is unknown, Abraham is used instead.) This is a reflection of King David's prayer for salvation: "I beseech you, O God, for I am your servant, the son of your handmaid..." (Psalms 116:16). Another reason the mother's name is added is because the Hebrew word for compassion (rachamim) is derived from the Hebrew word for womb (rechem).

Jewish tradition, from Genesis through the writings of the great sages, reflects the importance of a person's name. The first human being was named "Adam," which is derived from the Hebrew word adama, ground. It is a descriptive name, since Adam was created from the earth. Eve (Chava), the name of the first woman, derives from the wordchai, life.

Abraham and Sarah both received new names from God before Isaac was conceived. The sages explain that the mazal (fate) connected with the names of Abram and Sarai indicated barrenness. God changed their names, thus their "fortunes," and then He declared that the descendants of Abraham would not be dominated by fate -- they could go above and beyond what normal fate/mazal indictates.

God's alteration of existing mazal through name change is a concept upheld even to this day. It is customary in cases of critical illness to add a name to the patient's name -- usually a name such as Chaim (life) or Rafael (healer).

Later in Genesis, we read about Abraham's great-grandsons: Joseph, the Viceroy of Egypt, and his 11 brothers who came to buy grain from him. Joseph's brothers did not recognize their brother because he wore Egyptian clothes, spoke Egyptian and went by an Egyptian name. This was a lesson for the generations to come. By the time Moses came to redeem the Jewish people from slavery, the Midrash tells us that they had lost most of their distinctive identity except for the way they dressed, their language and their names. This story highlights the incredible importance of identifying with our Hebrew names.

One might, of course, point out that a new Hebrew name such as Aleph is less connected to Jewish tradition than a Yiddish name like Mendel or Russian name like Masha, both of which are common in Ashkenazi Jewish communities. In truth, host countries and foreign conquerors have influenced Jewish naming patterns since the days of the Maccabees (Hanukkah story). The Maccabees who liberated Judea from the Syrian-Greeks and founded the Hasmonean dynasty, had both Hebrew and Greek names (e.g. Simon Thassi, Yochanan Hyrcanus, etc.).

The same was true in Spain, in the countries of North Africa, and certainly in Europe. Thus, the seemingly modern custom of having an English name and a Hebrew name is not new at all. Having both a common name and Hebrew name often makes it easier to function in non-Jewish society, but what happens when Jews no longer know or give our children Hebrew names? This, sadly, is often a sign of a Jewish community that will soon disappear.

So if you are Jewish, take pride in your Hebrew name and let it work for you! And if you don't have a Hebrew name, ask a local rabbi, or tweet us for advice! And don't miss your opportunity to explore the background of 25 of the most popular names of Hebrew origin on Twebrewschool.org throughout the month of November.

The Importance of Circumcision in Jewish Law

Originally published on Huffington Post

There are few aspects of Jewish life that have been debated as heatedly as circumcision. It's physical. It's permanent. It effects an area of the body that most people today won't even discuss in proper company.

Most recently, the citizens of San Francisco, Calif., faced a potential vote on whether to make it a misdemeanor to circumcise any male under the age of 18. The referendum, which was to be held in November, will not take place because California Governor Jerry Brown has passed a law banning any bans on circumcision.

While many Americans were surprised by the proposal, and great debates raged on the Internet, this would certainly not have been the first time that circumcision has been outlawed. The most famous prohibition of circumcision occurred when the Syrian-Greeks sought to force Hellenization on the Judeans (in the era of the Maccabees and Hanukkah). Performing a circumcision on one's child became a capital crime. The Syrian-Greeks found circumcision particularly offensive because of their own culture's devotion to the beauty and perfection of the human body. The ancient Greeks are renowned for their sculptures and naked athletics. From the perspective of Hellenistic culture, the male body represented perfection. It was therefore unconscionable that the Jews should alter it, or maim it, especially by Divine decree.

According to Rabbi Shimon ben Eleazar, as quoted in the Talmud: "Every precept for which Israel submitted [themselves] to death at the time of the royal decree [of the Syrian-Greeks], e.g. idolatry and circumcision, is still held firmly in their [the Jews'] minds" (Shabbat 130a).

Brit Milah, as circumcision is called in Hebrew, is a mitzvah that has withstood the test of time. Even Jews with only a tentative connection to Judaism still have their sons circumcised. Perhaps it is because this is a mitzvah that is done joyously (accompanied as it is with a festive meal) as it not only affirms the parents' connection with Judaism, but the child's link as well. According to Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel, the joy with which the Jewish people accepted this mitzvah is the reason that it is still observed.

Brit Milah is so important a mitzvah that the Talmud states: "Great is circumcision, for it counterbalances all the [other] laws of the Torah" (Nedarim 32a). In fact, circumcision is so important to the Jewish people that it is one of only two commandments for which the punishment of kareit (being "cut-off") is applied if they are not fulfilled. (The other is the offering of the Paschal lamb in Temple times and when one was not in a category allowing for exemption).

Kareit, often defined as excision, is extremely hard to comprehend. In fact, the sages of the Talmud even debate what this punishment is. Many sages and rabbinic leaders have also noted that kareit may have a different effect on people today than it did in the days of the Holy Temple. It is believed that, in times when our connection to the spiritual realm was more tangible, kareit was actual death. (Not instant death, but rather death at a young age -- under 60 -- accompanied by a lack of further offspring.) But kareit is also understood as a spiritual excommunication, in which one's soul is cut off from God.

Why is circumcision so important to God? The plain fact of the matter is that we do not know. While numerous explanations for the ritual have been suggested by different sages throughout the generations, circumcision is a chok, a law that is performed as God's decree, and according to traditional Judaism, no further explanation is needed.

No arguments can be addressed to those who do not recognize the concept of sanctification or the importance of heritage. Claims that an act of tradition are barbaric need no reply. For those who wonder about the safety of circumcision, however, it must be stated that fulfilling a mitzvah at the risk of someone's life (even one's own) is a severe transgression of Jewish law. There are only three exceptions to this rule: one must give up one's own life rather than take the life of another, commit an act of sexual immorality or worship idols. Although it is commanded that the brit milah be performed on the eighth day, a mohel (one trained to perform brit milah) will not perform the ritual on any child who is not in perfect health.