Say It In Chabon
Or: Der yidisher polislayt-unyon.

The newest, baroquest Jewish novel is one I won't be reading -- not because I am opposed to it on principle but because my complexes will get in the way of any purely literary experience. To explain we have to turn the clock back to 1997 (or sometime before), when Michael Chabon happened upon the sublime little volume Say it In Yiddish, a book that provides practical phrases for the traveler to Yiddish-land. The notion of a country whose inhabitants might use Yiddish in daily life captivated Chabon with its otherwordliness, and -- so inspired -- he wrote a whimsical essay for the Library of Congress magazine Civilization about such a land (with, it bears mentioning, the requisite Ben Katchor illustrations for a Yiddish reverie).

Thus ensued a kerfluffle in the tiny on-line Yiddish world, or, more precisely, a flame war (which I took part in) on the Yiddish e-mail list Mendele, most neatly summarized by Chabon's response to his critics (thanks to Leizer Burko of yiddishland.googlegroups.com for digging this up):

Date: Sun, 29 Jun 1997 10:05:37 -0700 (PDT)
From: Michael Chabon <mchabon@earthlink.com>
Subject: Weinreich's phrasebook

I am hesitant to wade into this fray, but the recent assertion by Mr. Mordkhe Shaechter [7.025] that "the author of that article has already apologized to B. Weinreich" compels me to step in. I have been following the recent exchanges over my article in Civilization ever since an interested party began forwarding them to me last week. They can, as far as I can tell, be divided among those who got it, those who most decidedly did not, and those, like Mr. Turkel [7.024], who feel qualified to comment without having read the article at all. Since I can neither speak nor read Yiddish in any but the most rudimentary fashion, I don't know what Mr. Adam Whiteman had to say.

People who get the piece recognize, first of all, that a book which explicitly advertises itself, on the cover, in capital letters, as a PHRASEBOOK FOR TRAVELLERS, naturally, logically, and commercially implies the existence of a country to be travelled to. A country. An entire nation. Not a neighborhood like Crown Heights. Not the annual meeting of a Yiddish language society or a Folksbeine. No one takes a Chinese phrasebook for travellers to Chinatown or a Chinese New Year's Parade. Even if someone might, such certainly would not be the imagined market for a series of traveller's phrasebooks.

This inherent implication is the central pillar of my ruminative essay (not a book review, not an analysis of the current state of Yiddish). There is a phrase given in the book, with Yiddish translation: Where can I get the boat/ferry to --------? My essay simply tries to imagine different ways to fill in that blank (that is, to imagine a place where one takes a ferry either to or from a country whose principal language is Yiddish). _Now._ Post 1958, when the book was published. Not in the twenties during some shortlived Soviet republic. Not in Israel shortly after its founding. But now, when the book, with its series of useful phrases for visits to auto mechanics and airline ticket offices, is still apparently very much in print. Where, in 1997, could you go that it would behoove you to know how to say, in Yiddish, "Which way to the casino?"

The second thing people who get the piece recognize, I think, is that however many people are still reading, speaking, and enjoying Yiddish, and however many young people are taking up the study of the language--however vital is the spirit of Yiddish revival--something has been lost. Something immense and profound. I don't know anything about Mendele and its ways. Perhaps this statement will bring the wrath of the entire subscribership down upon me. But I believe it. If this causes some of you to pity me, or shake your heads, or even wish, with Mr. Turkel, to excoriate me, so be it. There is no nation to take the Weinreichs' little phrasebook to; for every other language in the series, such a country exists. That difference saddens me.

In the course of a recent, and personally frustrating correspondence with Ms. Beatrice Weinreich, I did express my apologies to her--but not, as Mr. Schaechter seems to imply, for what I wrote. I stand foursquare behind every single word of that essay, without apology. What I regret is the hurt feelings and grief that my words evidently brought to a woman whose work I respect. It was a harsh blow to her to discover that someone thought her phrasebook was, among many other things, and in the saddest way, funny. (I gather from this list that I am not entirely alone in thinking so.) I have tried to explain to Ms. Weinreich that she, like some members of this list, had misinterpreted both the spirit and the letter of my essay. I love Yiddish. I love being Jewish. I love language and humor. All of these inspired my writing. The desire to hurt, offend, or insult Yiddish scholars and lovers of Yiddish did not make up even one atom of my motivation. My only desire was to report faithfully how the book made me feel, and the fancies it conjured in my imagination.

In her initial letter, and in her subsequent, generally unmollified reply to my reply, Ms. Weinreich argued, as have some members of this list, first of all, that the book could be useful for trips to Crown Heights or Williamsburg, for example; and second, that it might come in handy in Israel, or perhaps would have come in handy in Israel at an earlier time in the book's life. My principal rejoinder to these arguments has already been made: a phrasebook for travellers implies a country whose principal language is that of the phrasebook. Sure, there are, or could be, exceptions to this. There could be a phrasebook for travellers in Romany, say, that might be useful under certain conditions, or one in Latin that might at some time have come in handy in the Vatican. With regard to Israel, and the argument that there were or are many Yiddish speakers there who, as Ms. Weinreich attempted to convince me, felt or feel at sea in a land of Hebrew, I fail to understand how they would have benefited from an English-Yiddish phrasebook. Yiddish-Hebrew, perhaps. As for the English speaking traveller, if I had been going to Israel in 1959, say, I doubt I would have chosen an English-Yiddish phrasebook to be my companion.

AIl this is, however, completely beside my point. I wasn't interested in writing about whether this book was, or could be, useful; it is evident to anyone not blinded by sentiment or passion that such a book is, in a practical sense, all but useless. What interested me was imagining another world in which a Yiddish phrasebook for travellers would have an obvious referent, one with the official passports, customs agents, airlines, and ferry companies that play such a prominent (and, to me, poignant) role in the phrase book. The more I thought about, and imagined this country, the sadder I felt at its absence, a sadness which --for me, the only person I ever claimed to be speaking for--no amount of extinct Soviet republics, Chasidic neighborhoods, and Yiddish preservation and renewal societies will ever completely abate.

I'm sorry if this angers, hurts or irritates some people, or everyone who reads this post. I'm sorrier still for anyone who can't see the humor--the heartbreaking, wistful, uproarious humor--in the book. But I don't regret a word of what I wrote. On the contrary, Mr. Schaechter.

Michael Chabon

And from such an exchange, it turns out, came the impetus for The Yiddish Policemen's Union.

Ten years after the mini-dispute, I, like Bina Weinreich, remain unmollified. I see the humor of the book (which has acquired near-classic camp status in some circles), and I appreciate the whimsy of Chabon's take, but ("blinded by passion or sentiment," perhaps) can't overlook his mistake: the assumption (so American-Jewish! so confidently ignorant!) that only languages with a country have a useful function, that only official state languages have any business arrogating to themselves any practicality (except for the two non-state languages of Romany and Church Latin [!]). That's an ignorance that even a brilliant prose style can't wash away, and whimsy can't cover up.

Here I am, still blinded in Yiddishland.

Elinor Nauen on Roberta Oliver

I promised Roberta that I wouldn’t say she was brave. I promised Roberta I wouldn’t say she “fought the good fight.”

Well, RO, I lied. I am going to say that to the end she stayed considerate, gallant and gorgeously courageous. Part of that was her usual modesty: She never said “why me?” She believed she’d had a good run, and she was at peace.

But Roberta was, of course, far more than her cancer or her death.

Our friendship began about 10 years ago, when I was just starting to get involved at Town and Village. We’d both been invited to a dinner, where I didn’t really know anyone. (To appreciate this anecdote, you have to know that I’m originally from the Midwest.) So, we were at this dinner, and she was telling a story, rattling along a mile a minute: TWO miles a minute.

And I said, Hey slow down, I can’t understand what you’re saying, you’re talking so fast.

And without missing a step, in that 1940s wisecracking-dame voice she had when she was still a smoker, she said, What, they can’t listen so fast out there where you come from?

A couple of years later, I happened to drive her and her son to Binghamton when he started college. What I remember most about that trip is the way she talked about Torah. Her infatuation (as someone called it), her joy in and mastery of the technical details, her passion and commitment inspired me to want what she had. If I am a halfway decent Torah reader, it’s in large part because Roberta “tortured” me—by which she meant that she refused to let me or anyone else do a sloppy job, not if she could do anything about it. She was endlessly patient in listening to me and many others practice our reads—and she never missed a mistake.

Roberta would be the first to say she didn’t have a beautiful voice, but when she leyned, her voice was radiant. Radiant and beautiful, out of love.

She loved being Jewish. She loved kirbys and The Gilmore Girls and salami. She loved shopping—and returning everything she bought the next day. And she loved her kids. How many times we would be on the phone and she would say, gotta go, it’s Paul. Or, It’s Katie! She lit up each and every time she said their names. How tender Paul and Kate have been under the recent stressful circumstances. How much I admire them—and their mother for raising two such wonderful young people. As well as Roberta’s magnificent mom Sarah, who started it all.

Roberta gave the best gifts, not only because she was generous, but even more, because she paid attention to her friends and knew what would please us. She was organized—I don’t know how the morning minyan will manage gala ads and the summer beach outing and daily Torah reads without her. She was fun and a good dancer.

But like any friendship worth its salt, ours was mostly a day-in day-out accumulation of listening, talking, hanging out. It’s not anecdotes or witticisms I will miss about Roberta, but the everydayness of our friendship. The privilege of her love and friendship.

Roberta (Rivka bat Avi v'Sarah), ז"ל

My friend Roberta died Wednesday night. She used to read Torah every week at our shul. She was careful with every word, every last trope -- and she never failed to bury an excellent reading of hers under a mountain of self-criticism the minute she came back to her seat ("I completely missed that zakef gadol!"). She demanded a good keriah from herself and others. She would fume and mutter under her breath when the gabbaim were not doing their job with the more error-prone.

She had been sick for a while; she wasn't old at all. Her mother will be at her shivah. And this is what I'm thinking: זו תורה וזו שכרה? -- this is the reward of the Torah?

Me and Jerome G.
Making your doctor better.

Jerome Groopman: "Because we doctors see so many people, thinking in the moment, we have to use shortcuts. If lay people become educated about how we think, with a few appropriate and directed questions, they could help us think better. They should ask, “Could this be anything else?” or “I’m worried this is something serious.” That is the genuine partnership."

See my Q&A in this week's Forward with the author of How Doctors Think.

Disclaimers apply
And modesty! Lots of modesty.

It's not that I really think I'm the best overall Jewish or Israeli blogger, but you might as well vote for me, since someone was nice enough to nominate me. (Please also vote for In Mol Araan as best food blog and Katle Kanye as best non-English blog. All nominees in these categories here.)

Happy birthday, Itzik!

I had fun at Itzik Gottesman's 50th birthday party last night, held at the Yiddish Artists and Friends club on East 7th Street. (He's the assistant editor at the Yiddish Forward, also an ethnologist and many other things besides.) The music was great, the dancing -- well, I tried to, a little bit, and then realized it was way too complicated for me. Let me say something else about the klezmorim: you should go buy The Broken Tongue, Daniel Kahn's CD of Yiddish-klezmer-funk (or, as his band's site puts it: "Alienation Klezmer Bund = Radical Yiddish Song + American Gothic Folk + Punk Cabaret + Klezmer Danse Macabre = Verfremdungsklezmer Bund."). Also, Adrienne Cooper's daughter can wail the guts out of a song. (I know she has her own name; someone told me but I forgot.)

While I'm mentioning Itzik, you should read his article in the Forward from a couple of weeks ago about how the Forverts is adapting to the changed (i.e. mostly Chasidic) Yiddish landscape.

Avrom Sutzkever: the blog
Not by him but about his work.

First post, with my translation of "Ode to the Dove" (part I).

Earlobes

On Leviticus 14:14, Rashi (or the Rashi found in many chumoshim my chumesh) uses a word קנארפעל knarfel to gloss תנוך אוזן earlobe. I have no idea what kind of word this is. I don't think it's Yiddish, unless it's a weird rhoticizing way of spelling קנאפל knafl heel ("heel of the ear"?). If anyone knows, that would make me less mystified, and would save me the effort I'm currently expending in trying to look it up. (Ideally I would find a reliable critical edition of Rashi which includes the "Yiddish" glosses, but I don't know where that would be.)

Update: The lobe thickens. I followed S.'s advice and just spent way too much time browsing Google Books (thanks for nothing!). Jerold Frakes' Early Yiddish Texts 1100-1750 (see page 1 in Google Books) includes a few pages on the Yiddish and Tsarfatic glosses found in Rashi. Leviticus 14:14, and knarfel, are not among them. I guess then that whatever manuscript my bal-chumesh was working from either (a) had a later addition of this super-gloss, or (b) the publisher just stuck it in. I have yet to look at the printed Rashi manuscripts available through JNUL.

A conversation with a taxi driver

Driver: What language are you speaking to your daughter? Is that Dutch?

Me: Close! It's Yiddish. A Jewish language. Say [noticing Driver's accent], where are you from?

Driver: The Congo.

[. . .]

Driver: I love the Jews.

Me: Oh . . . !?

Driver: My King is a Jew.

Me: (thinks) Congo. Does Congo have a king? I know something awful is happening in Congo right now but I don't remember what. Was "Belgian Congo," right? Was there a king then? Belgian Jews? (says) King?

Driver: My King, who I love.

Me: (light dawns) Oh . . . Jesus?

Driver: Yes. I think the Jews are wonderful. You are so good with money!

Me: I wish I was.

Driver: You are born smart. You are blessed.

Me: Um . . . thanks!

Yiddish junkets

Brandeis, or . . . Birobidzhan?

Hamiltonians
are sometimes funny.

Thinking about thinking about medicine
Rx: Think better.

I recently had the opportunity to interview Jerome Groopman for the Forward on the occasion of his new book, How Doctors Think. I hope the Q&A will appear soon. Meanwhile, enjoy this discussion in Slate which is rather less polite and chummy than ours was. Perhaps I should have said to Dr. Groopman what I was thinking, which is: Research on the patient-doctor interview has been accumulating for the past twenty-five years; why are mainstream MDs discovering it only now? (It's also interesting that the Slate discussion does not touch on doctor-patient communication at all. Groopman: doctors need to be trained better! Sanghavi: systems need to be more effective! But, guys, getting the patient to tell the doctor what the problem is? This is simple? This is done to perfection inside the office?)

Annoying Hebrew slang
Courtesy of Eurovision, Teapacks, and Iran.

I recently heard Israel's entry to the Eurovision song contest, a Teapacks song called Push the Button (video, lyrics). It's a good thing the lyrics are available on-line, because I can't understand the words to most songs in English, much less in rapped Hebrew. I think I learned a new word:

שוטרים וגנבים מתרוצצים עלי
והם קופצים עלי, מתקרצצים עלי

Shotrim veganavim mitrotzetzim alay
Vehem koftzim alay, mitkartzetzim alay

This is translated somewhere as "Cops and robbers run all over me / And they're jumping on me, getting on my case." I didn't know the word מתקרצץ, but judging from chat groups it means something like "annoy, suck up to, give too much attention to, glom onto" (e.g. כשחיפשתי דירה בבית הסטודנט, התקרצץ אלי איזה זקן -- "when I looked for an apartment in the student house, this old guy started getting in my face"; or המלצר ששירת אותנו התקרצץ עלינו בצורה דביקה במיוחד -- "the waiter who served us glommed onto us in a really sticky way").

Where does it come from? My father read to me over the phone from Milon Slang Makif, Comprehensive Dictionary of Slang, by one Rosenthal, which connects it to the word קריצה, meaning "winking, blinking." (Interesting that the Milon defines the reflexive - hitpa'el - as "to be annoyed," while on the basis of Internet usage, and from the Teapacks song, the hitpa'el functions here as an intensifier - to annoy.) Presumably קרצץ is formed by duplicating the last letter of קרץ. (Google doesn't know much about קרצץ.)

Rosenthal's Milon Slang Makif connects the word to קרציה tick. (Thanks to Balashon and an anonymous commenter for corrections.)

And k-r-tz (קרץ) is a well-known root from Tanach and modern Hebrew. In modern Hebrew it means "blink" (as mentioned above), but Rabbinically and Biblically the word also encompasses "pinch, cut; snap [the fingers]". Here's where I should get off the train and let Balashon, with his greater knowledge and fuller bookshelves, drive the etymology forward. Or is that backward?

Liberal "Torah Judaism"
Much as I hate the term.

Is there "da'as Torah"? Are there scholars lay, rabbinic, or talmid-khokhemdik who immerse themselves in the Torah so completely that their system of reference is different from others'?

This is plausible -- with a caveat. These learned Jews aren't to be found just in the ultra-Orthodox streams of Judaism which have popularized the term. Even liberal Jews can have daas Torah. It's just that their -- our! -- Torah is different (cf. "seventy sides/faces/tongues/languages to the Torah").

After the blood and the lamb: beets

I welcome your envy: among the guests at our second seder was Ms. Chocolate Lady, with escort Mr. Lady-to-be. She made us chocolate mousse which is quite possibly the best thing I have eaten ever. Even tastier than the Jewish madeleine, I mean the afikoymen.

She also made us some beets, and I brought them for lunch to work today, a big tupperware that I meant to eat only half of. Big mistake, thought I, as I opened the plastic bag and saw a pool of beet juice on the bottom - now I'll have to eat up the whole thing so it won't leak into my backpack on the way home. So, worried about beet overdose, I started in. And they were delectable. There I sat, waiting for my patients to arrive, tie untucked into shirt, slurping up huge tasty beet hunks with trusty chunks of matzo. I was a beet-scarfing animal. I was a beet plague. I finished it all and I wanted more.

Lucky the door was closed. And I sanitized my hands before examination.

Meritorious mothers
From Solomon Schechter, Aspects of Rabbinic Theology, chapter 12.

The Zachuth of the pious ancestry may generally be described as the זכות אבות (the Zachuth of the Fathers), but the term Fathers is largely limited in Rabbinic literature to the three patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, God's covenant with whom is so often appealed to already in the Bible. The Rabbinic rule is, "They call not Fathers but the three (patriarchs), and they call not Mothers but four" (Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah) [1]. The last statement with regard to the Mothers suggests that there is such a thing as the זכות אמהות (the Zachuth of the Mothers). This is in conformity with the Rabbinic statement in reference to Lev. 26:42 regarding God's remembering his covenant with the patriarchs, that there is also such a thing as the covenant with the Mothers [2]. In another place, they speak even distinctly of the Zachuth of the Mothers, "If thou seest the Zachuth of the Fathers and the Zachuth of the Mothers, that they are on the decline, then hope for the grace of God." [3] And it would even seem that they would invoke the Zachuth of the Mothers together with the Zachuth of the Fathers in their prayers on public fasts prescribed on the occasion of general distress [4] . . .

[1] Berachoth, 16b. See, however, D.E.Z., ch.1, where they speak of seven Fathers who entered into a covenant with God. In Sirach (heading to c.44), the expression Fathers is even more extensive.
[2] T.K., 112c.
[3] See Jer. Sanhedrin, 27d, and Lev.R., 36,6. Cf. commentaries, and see also Cant.R., 2,9.
[4] See Pseudo-Jonathan to Exod. 18:9 and Mechilta, 54a. In our liturgy, the invocation of the Zachuth of the mothers is very rare. A Piyut (hymn) by R. Gershom b. Judah, recited on the eve of the New Year, has a reference to the covenant of the Mothers.

Adventures in Toddler Bilingualism
Superfluous plurals.

My Yiddish- and English-speaking* 3-year-old, while playing blocks with me:

Du bist a boyer! ("You're a builder!")
Ikh bin a boyer! ("I'm a builder!")
Mir zaynen beyde boyersn! ("We're both builders'n!", i.e. with the plural form boyers and an added plural suffix-n)

*She also sings a lot of songs in Mandarin, but I don't think she can generate a sentence.

Who cut the khreyn?
And other Passover questions.

I'm thinking about the following questions during this Pesach season. You are invited to roll your eyes at them, ignore them, discuss them, think about them, or suggest your own.

1. Does it matter whether the Exodus story is historical?

2. How can one story (the Exodus) yield contradictory interpretations - e.g. the Jews are God's chosen people, yet the Jews were deserving of extermination in the desert?

3. Did the Israelites do anything to make themselves worthy of redemption - or was it all Moses'/Aaron's/God's doing?

4. What is the connection of chametz to Passover?

5. Can one people redeem another, or is that unwanted interference in the internal affairs of another nation?

6. If God chose the Jews, what did God choose them for?

Halachah Is Not Esthetics
An article in Makor Rishon.

Looks interesting, but I haven't read it yet:

The traditional halachic principle which prohibits "a mitzvah done through sinning" is not all-encompassing. According to a distinction made by the Rabbis of the Talmud, it goes into effect only in the most blatant of circumstances.

I know what your problem is
You're two stents!

I have the sinking feeling (maybe it should be "clotting") that the bare-metal vs. drug-eluting stents debate* is going to be our decade's version of dietary epidemiology: small effects, multiple studies, uncertain conclusions of doubtful clinical relevance. (For example, the latest NEJM-published meta-analysis looks at a four-year follow-up. I really hope our patients with stents live longer than that.)

*Short version: Vessels in which bare-metal stents are inserted tend nevertheless to fail (close off again) after a short time. Stents which elute drugs avoid this first problem but have recently been associated with an increased risk of thrombosis (clotting). Of course, whether these first two statements are true is also open to question . . .

Schaechter z"l: toiling without sentimentality
"What motivated him was the desire that Yiddish should receive the respect of any other language."

Brian Zumhagen talked about him today on WNYC (audio, transcript).

* * *

An evening of remembrance and Yiddish learning

on the shloyshim of Dr. Mordkhe Schaechter z"l

Sunday, March 18th, 5:30 P.M.

at the Workmen’s Circle / Forward Building,

45 East 33rd Street

between Madison and Park Avenues

in New York City

The speakers:

David Braun, Harvard University

Marc Caplan, Johns Hopkins University

Paul Glasser, YIVO Institute for Jewish Research

Rakhmiel Peltz, Drexel University

David Roskies, Jewish Theological Seminary

A few Yiddish songs especially meaningful to Dr. Schaechter will be

sung.

Primarily in Yiddish.

Take the 6 train to East 33 Street,

or the D, F, N, R train to West 34 Street.

On and Off the Bima

Nice if unsurprising article in the Times about adopted Chinese girls turning bat mitzvah, but please!

“That was my hope when I started her in day school,” Ms. Nealon said, “that when she got up on the bimah” — the lectern where the bat mitzvah girl reads from the Torah — “she would feel like she had the right to be there.”

Sic! Look, you're The New York Times, the only de facto Jewish newspaper some New York Jews ever read. Get the lingo straight, wouldja?

(For reference, the bimah is the platform. The lectern is called the amud. It's called other things too, but I bet no one calls it the shtender in the shuls mentioned in the article.)

On second thought: it could just be that the Times is using lectern in another sense, namely to refer to said platform. If this is the case, they would probably call the reading stand a podium.

Where have you been, Moses?
Look, we made you something. With your brother's help.

This year Parshes Ki Siso (Ki Tisa) almost makes me want to cry. The children of Israel made a mistake born of desperation and fear - they didn't know when Moses was coming back down the mountain. (Rashi says it was all because of a scheduling mixup, whether 40 days included the following night.) What were they supposed to do? And the worst of it is, their sin is a real sin, which shouldn't be blamed on the mixed multitude. They did it (we did it), and are to be blamed, but our reasons were understandable. We were scared and hopeless.

It feels like all the stories I'm hearing from my patients, now that I know enough to ask about depression, suicidal thinking, drug and alcohol abuse, but don't yet have enough experience to see my help taking effect -- or the problems are too deep-rooted for me to help at all. It's like screaming at the train that's about to hit a stalled truck.

Promise
Glyn Maxwell (from his book Nerve)

I made my child a promise, so a weight
was passed to her. I saw how carefully

its power was handled, that it lit the thoughts
around it, and I felt it warm her talk

and urge the hours along. Since I, like you,
no longer know a word like that, the light

she gained was lost to me. It didn’t mean
I’d let her down—I didn’t—but I seemed

to be aligned with those who might in time,
as if I’d somehow set coordinates.

Poem Stuffed into Ziploc Bags With Hamentasch and Raisins
aka shalekhmones doggerel 2007. Hebrew and Yiddish doggerel here.

Esther was greenish. You know that, honey?
It makes me squeamish but she's better than money.

She could have been silent, let the whole thing pass
But the Queen kicked the can of Ahashuerus.
Esther was greenish . . .

Beauty's in the eye, buck stops at the throne
Esther couldn't save us had she slept alone.
Esther was greenish . . .

World Leaders, Jewish and Non-Jewish, Send Purim Greetings
From the United Synagogue, Spam Division, Propaganda Subsection.

President George W. Bush
The White House
WASHINGTON -- Following are remarks that the President made for the press regarding the Festival of Lots, which falls on Saturday night, except when it doesn't.
"I'd like to thank the Prime Minister of Israel for alerting me to the very real danger that exists from President Haman of Persiran. We would admit defeat, and the terrorists would win, if we did not bomb the bastards back to the Stone Age the minute after the megillah is read at my friend Joseph Lieberman's synagogue Kesher Israel."

Prime Minister Vladimir Putin
The Kremlin
MOSCOW - Following are remarks the Prime Minister made to his wife before he turned his face to the wall and fell asleep. Some content has been censored.
"I would like to congratulate my Jewish friends on being so devilishly clever as to defeat the nefarious Central Asians. My friend Rabbi Lazar of the warm, friendly, welcoming, and messianist Jewish group Chabad tells me that only one lesson can be learned from the Scroll of Esther: we would be in very real danger if we did not bomb the Chechnyan bastards back to the Soviet Age the minute after I finish this bottle of vodka."

President Moshe Katzav
Beyt Ha-Nasi
JERUSALEM - Following are remarks made by the President to an attractive staff sergeant who brought him coffee this Wednesday.
. . .
On second thought, never mind.

Rabbi Avi Shafran
Spokesman of the World Conference of Grand Jewish Orthodox Charedi Rabbinical Rebbes
SOMEWHERE IN BROOKLYN. QUEENS MAYBE? MONSEY? I FORGET. ANYWAY. - "Since 'the glory of the princess is within doors' and Esther deserves her modesty, the coming Artscroll/Super Charedi (TM) edition of the Megillah will change Queen Esther's name to 'Mister Mister.' While we're at it, 'Mordechai' sounds gay; his name we're changing to 'Mendel.'"

Professor Arnold Eisen
Chancellor of JTS
UPPER WEST SIDE, PARTICULARLY INCONVENIENT TO ANY TRAINS YOU MIGHT EVER WANT TO TAKE. WHY COULDN'T THEY HAVE PUT IT NEARER MIDTOWN? - "First of all, Avi, quit making jokes about what the 'TS' stands for. That's just immature. Second, I'd like to wish an anthropological, sociological, and philosophical Purim to all my constituents. I am pleased to release the results of a comprehensive poll recently taken of the Conservative movement's leadership when they were having lunch together at Katz's. [They were eating the tuna salad. Jeez, you people are so frum!] 50% of the respondents (N=1) agreed with getting shiker-faced on Purim, while another 50% (N=1) held that sugar intoxication was preferred. Another 50% (N=1) wondered when he could finally retire to Jerusalem and join an Orthodox shul. Steve, oh Steve Cohen! Why don't these numbers add up right?..."

Rabbi Elliot Dorff
Professor of Partial Homosexual Heterim
UPPER WEST SIDE, I MEAN THAT'S WHERE HE WORKS, BUT FOR HIS SAKE I HOPE HE LIVES SOMEWHERE ELSE - "I'd like to wish my gay friends an enjoyable Purim. But not too enjoyable."

Informed consent
Notes for a talk

Mr. C. is a 55-year-old Spanish speaking man with abdominal pain that has migrated from the epigastrium to the right lower quadrant of the abdomen. You are asked to “consent” him for a CT scan of the abdomen. Your Spanish is good enough to talk to him, but Mr. C. does not ask any questions, even when you repeatedly press him on the matter. He keeps saying, “Whatever you say, doctor.”

More here.

My favorite gay-and-lesbian teshuvah

It took me this long to read Rabbi Gordon Tucker's teshuvah? It's as if all the questions and problems I have been having, all the points I have been fumbling after (and wasting precious bandwidth on, inelegantly and ineloquently, in this blog) have been encapsulated and justified. Go read. Let's talk. Dov W., are you out there? Come challenge.

Choni the Furrow-maker
A.k.a. the Plasterer. Or the Roof-smoother.

All these are alternate translations of חוני המעגל, generally known in English as Choni the Circle-Drawer. Listen to this particularly satisfying explanation of his name, from an article by Dr. Israel Rosenson.

There is a similarity between the עוגה (ugah) in this story and the עוגיות (ugiyos), round furrows around trees, mentioned in the laws of the intermediate days of festivals. "Irrigation ditches are watered during the intermediate days . . . but furrows are not made for vines" (Mishna Moed Katan 1:1).

According to this, Choni stands in the middle of the circle like a tree in the midst of its furrow-circle . . . to emphasize the dependence of a man's strength on his Creator.

Dietary epidemiology strikes again
The interesting epidemiological abstract of the week. Do you believe it?

Keep in mind that dietary patterns are devilishly hard to establish (never mind corroborate). (I talked here about the problems of dietary epidemiology. Michael Pollan debunked the whole field in a brilliant essay in the New York Times Magazine a few weeks ago.) Also, keep in mind that factor analysis is susceptible to subjective, nay idiosyncratic, notions of how factors should be defined. Nevertheless, this is an interesting abstract, particularly with the suggestion that a "Mediterranean" diet (olive oil, veggies) is associated with country of origin but not associated (negatively or positively) with diabetes.

Dietary Patterns and Diabetes Incidence in the Melbourne Collaborative Cohort Study
Hodge et al.
American Journal of Epidemiology 2007 165(6):603-610

The authors investigated the association of dietary patterns and type 2 diabetes in a 4-year prospective study of 36,787 adults in the Melbourne Collaborative Cohort Study (1990–1994). A total of 31,641 (86%) participants completed follow-up, and 365 cases were identified. Four factors with eigenvalues of greater than 2 were identified using the principal factor method with 124 foods/beverages, followed by orthogonal rotation. Variables with factor loadings having absolute values of 0.3 or greater were used in interpreting the factors. Odds ratios for diabetes incidence across quintiles of factor scores were computed by use of logistic regression, adjusting for age, energy intake, family history of diabetes, country of birth, and other factor scores. Factor 1, characterized by olive oil, salad vegetables, and legumes and by avoidance of sweet bakery items, margarine, and tea, was associated with country of birth but not with diabetes. Factor 2, characterized by salad and cooked vegetables, was inversely associated with diabetes. Factor 3, characterized by meats and fatty foods, was associated with increased diabetes risk. A range of fruits loaded strongly on factor 4, which showed little association with diabetes. Avoidance of a dietary pattern including meats and fatty foods, as well as adherence to a pattern including salad and cooked vegetables, is recommended.

The Emperor of Yiddish Words
Schaechter z"l, from 72nd Street to Bainbridgevke.

Mordkhe Schaechter, a linguist, lexicographer and rebbe of secular Yiddishists, died February 15. He was 79.

I became attracted to Yiddish when I was growing up in Louisville, Ky. Sitting in the back of Ms. Donsky’s German class, I often encountered Schaechter’s name while stumbling through week-old issues of the Forverts. On the basis of these references, I came to imagine a one-man Yiddish empire, an Academy of the Yiddish Language, publishing books, issuing edicts and deciding issues of style from a Yiddish Palace perched high in the mountains of Eastern Europe.

Read more in the Forward.

And you shall bind them (2)

A few days ago I talked about Rabbi Michael Broyde's prediction of the Conservative movement's imminent demise. What interested me were two throwaway statements: (1) "halachah is binding" (implying that this statement is unquestionably true for everyone, in the same way, at all times), and (2) American Jews can be divided into those who believe (1) is true and those who don't.

Comes a recent post by Jonathan Woocher on the Conservative e-mail list Shefa which nicely addresses point 2. So I'll quote it here in its entirety. Two points: although Broyde was trying to classify the whole of the Jewish community, Woocher talks here about the difficulty of defining the Conservative movement. I think the same difficulties apply to either, which is why I'm citing this. Second, the poster thinks it would be problematic for the Conservative movement to define itself based on behavioral criteria. I agree with this, probably for same reason as the poster. Indeed, it would be curious if behavioral criteria were not part of the C. movement's self-definition (such criteria being an essential part of halachah) - but only a part, since if it were the whole definition we would be a movement dedicated to self-policing and ruling people out rather than in.

I believe that part of the difficulty in addressing questions of denominational identity, boundaries, etc., is that there are multiple dimensions of what we might mean by, say, “the Conservative movement.” We might be talking about the movement’s 1) ideology (and, of course, none of the movements has a single, coherent ideology, but rather at best a set of ideologies with certain common elements); 2) program (different than an ideology; this is what it actually focuses its collective energies on at any given point in time); 3) institutions (synagogues, seminaries, USCJ, RA, etc.); 4) people (not just the public figures, but the people one encounters or encountered in the past in shul, school, camp, etc.; and/or 5) style (as with ideologies, movements do have multiple styles, but the “styles” of Conservative and Reform Judaism are generally fairly distinct). My observation is that what attracts individuals to a particular movement may be any of these (singly or in combination). So, one may well be ideologically “Reform,” but have a social network largely made up of Conservative Jews and prefer a service with more Hebrew.

There is a natural and understandable inclination to believe that ideology should be the trump card in this deck. This would lead to saying, e.g., that if you don’t believe in the normative authority of Halakha (leaving aside for the moment what we understand Halakha and its normative authority to be), you really don’t belong in the Conservative movement. However, it’s not clear to me that we should privilege ideology in this fashion, especially since it is an arena in which multiple positions coexist. So, unless one is prepared to set either strict ideological boundaries (how would we enforce these?) or – even more problematic – behavioral boundaries (which is where this thread began: questioning whether those who do not follow “normative Conservative practice,” e.g., not eating non-Kosher food outside the home, should have their opinions counted on an issue like gay ordination), I’m afraid we are stuck with an ambiguous movement in an ambiguous world.

I, for one, am comfortable with this, since the alternative would in my view be far worse, namely a movement constantly checking its tzitzes. I would not find this a very appealing landscape on which to take my Jewish journey.

Happy 100th, Wystan!

This is always worth hearing -- not his best poem (or his best reading), but one of my favorites.

Should not have been a talmid-khokhem

I am trying to express my appreciation of Schaechter (as everyone called him) in a limit-yourself-to-800-words sort of way. Meanwhile, a thought from today's shiva call, where someone quoted a frum acquaintance of the deceased. "It's a pity [Dr. Schaechter] wasn't a Torah scholar," the acquaintance supposedly said, "because he was so medakdek [punctilious]."

Two possible responses: no, he shouldn't have been a Torah scholar, because then he wouldn't have been what he was. Torah scholarship is not so destitute, nor the Jewish world of intellectual endeavor so narrow, that every talent must be yeshiva-fied. We have minds aplenty and lots of problems to work on, from the nature of God to the proper number of bird sacrifices - to questions of language preservation and standardization.

In fact, Schaechter was a secular Jew. Some friends and I (they are academic Yiddishists who devote their life to the language and literature) are discussing his passing over e-mail, and one pointed out that our subject line (borekh dayen emes, "Blessed be the True Judge"), while an appropriate and natural response for some of us, is not appropriate for Schaechter. He was many things in his appreciation of the Jewish people, but religious he was not. He was a secular Yiddishist, an ideology with its own powerful advantages, blindnesses, and failings, not to be lumped into our own personal categories, no matter how much we are beholden to them.

Second is that being medakdek (הקפדה, דקדקניות) is not what I think of as necessary for a Torah scholar. Encyclopedic knowledge, certainly; exactitude, yes; but above all an inspired creativity. But creativity is a dirty word in some circles.

Mordkhe Schaechter olevasholem

Dr. Schaechter, the linguist, teacher, editor, lexicographer, and (for lack of a better word) rebbe of Yiddishists everywhere, has died. The funeral will be tomorrow.

Update: The Times obituary.

The first Valentine’s day

was Valentine’s last --
his head bid on by an apothecary.
A cut-rate martyr.
The last thing in his head (save the blade)
a tavern:

close, smoky, ringing with soldiers’ serenades to others’ wives
while in a darkened corner
he brooded over a wine-stained tabletop
carved with pairs of small crosses: Valentine’s
illegal young marrieds,
contra legem imperatoris.

He’s under the deepest coldest
dirt in Rome. On that spot, now, a couple stands,
kissing each other breathless,
waiting and forgetting
for the light to change -- hot blood and

no head.

And you shall bind them

Rabbi Michael Broyde wrote in the Jewish Week that Conservative Judaism is dying. Sad, don't you know, to see pure Jewish souls lost to the likes of Ramah and JTS. And it's all because we embraced the homosexuals and uprooted a clear "Sinaitic prohibition". (If, on the other hand, we had created a "Sinaitic prohibition" where none existed before, that would be okay. But I digress.)

Now, the bulk of the article is founded on the same mistaken premise beloved by Orthodox demagogues everywhere: that "Jewish law" is by definition what Orthodox rabbis say is Jewish law. Thus Conservatism does not follow Jewish law because (wait for it) Conservative Judaism is not Orthodox.

The author, I remind you, is a professor of law at Emory.

But even apart from this intellectual heavy lifting he does say something interesting:

The truth is that there is a grand divide in the Jewish community worldwide between two groups: those who think that Jewish law (halacha) is really, truly, binding and those who do not.

There are two implied propositions here:
1. Jewish law is binding.
2. Jews can be divided into two groups: those who think 1. is true and those who think 1. is not true.

What does it mean for halachah to be "binding"?

With "binding" in English we generally refer to a legal decision or agreement which the party or parties have agreed to follow beforehand, as in the phrases "binding contract" or "binding arbitration." An individual or body issues a decision on a contested point of law or procedure; the party must act according to that decision on pain of negative consequences.

Halachah is different. In some cases, a person presents a question to a rabbi on a certain matter, the rabbi renders a decision, and the person then acts according to that decision. This happens in a minority of occasions, even in Orthodox communities - thus I don't think that this what Rabbi Broyde is referring to in his characterization of halachah as binding. Rather, he is more plausibly referring to the body of halachah as binding.

Leave aside for a moment how we should define the body of halachah, because this is where R. Broyde and his Conservative colleagues differ. The problem is, for understanding "bindingness," that the situation of the Jew following halachah is different from the legal subject obeying a legal decision. For one thing, the source is not clear. Theologically speaking, the Source is clear, but halachah is many-layered, many-authored, and oftentimes internally contradictory. Thus, unless one asks a particular rabbi for a particular decision at that particular second, there are many particular elements of "Jewish law" one could hew to, or not. Even a given halachic question can be differently framed depending on how the "body of halachah" is understood.

The above is not to say that Jewish law is not binding. Of course I think it is! Merely that it is not enough, true, or convincing to say that "Jewish law is binding" means "I look in the Shulchan Aruch and I do what it says." The fact that I can disagree with one halachic source and agree with another makes any such characterization difficult.

In fact, given that halachah is so multi-faceted and non-unitary, it is no wonder that minds much greater than I have defined the bindingness of halachah as contingent on the existence of a community which sees halachah as binding! Thus we're right back to where we started, unless R. Broyde is of the opinion that "halachah is binding" means "Orthodox Jewish practice is binding."

Why all this throwing words around? Because if we are to divide American Jews into groups based on who thinks Jewish law is binding, it would help to get a handle on what this proposition actually means. Let's imagine we've done that (though we haven't), and return later to the issue of what American Jews think - even more complicated than the definition of "binding"!

Frost-off
You vant I should stand outside vit my horse looking at de snow?

Translation fans might be interested in Katle Kanye's Yiddish version of Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, and my attempt inspired by his. There have been several earlier translations of the poem into Yiddish, but I can't find any of them right now.

The teaching of Jethro

We're familiar with the organizational content of the advice given to Moses by Jethro (Jithro, Yithro, Yisro(y), Yitro [is that why the rabbis say he has many names?]) - an management system, with leaders for various strata of the children of Israel. Something I was reminded of this year was the religious-educational content of Jethro's advice. This is Moses's explanation to his father-in-law of his approach:

14 And when Moses' father-in-law saw all that he did to the people, he said: 'What is this thing that thou doest to the people? why sittest thou thyself alone, and all the people stand about thee from morning unto even?' 15 And Moses said unto his ather-in-law: 'Because the people come unto me to inquire of God; 16 when they have a matter, it cometh unto me; and I judge between a man and his neighbour, and I make them know the statutes of God, and His laws.'

Jethro's preface to his words of advice bespeaks a different emphasis.

20 And thou shalt teach them the statutes and the laws, and shalt show them the way wherein they must walk, and the work that they must do.

Unfortunately, the translation (JPS 1919) betrays us somewhat here, for in the original, the same word (וְהוֹדַעְתִּי, וְהוֹדַעְתִּי) is used in Moses's explanation ("make them know the statues of God, and His laws") and in Jethro's ("shalt show them the way wherein they must walk"). The root implies knowledge, understanding, and a host of other things. But what 's most important is what M. and J. choose to convey: the laws versus the way wherein they must walk, codification versus (presumably moral) instruction. The dispute is an old one. Jethro's argument for the usefulness of teaching in time management is no weaker for being implicit: if you show the pople where to go, they might be less likely to bother you in the future with picayune concerns about law and custom.

In medical terms: talk with the patient while she's in front of you rather than just telling her what to do. You might help her self-improvement and save yourself time in the long run.

The football news you expect
From the sports blog you trust.

The score in this year's Super Bowl was 29-17. Both numbers are primes! This has happened twice before, in 1980 and 1970. I will guess that this is precisely as likely as one would expect this sort of thing to happen by chance. That, or it's a divine sign of maddening ambiguity. God's like that.

Floating at night

The hospital, with all its activity and mad transformation, is subdued at night. A cover is dropped over everything.

But it is not as if everything goes to sleep. The activity is dampened but not stilled, like music heard outside a soundproofed room.

Even those events that happen in a mad rush - the resuscitation, the emergency surgery - feel slower. It is night's recognition that daytime matters. Not every shift is like every other.

The renaissance cosmopolitan

A friend/colleague of mine made the following throwaway comment today which I found interesting:

Renaissance people were dabblers - you could have influence or excel in a number of different fields. Today the only way to be a Renaissance person is to feel comfortable anywhere in the world, whether in rural Arkansas or a megalopolis of twenty million.

Another loss for the co-inventor of the calculus

No one calls them Fig Leibnizes.

Re-volver
Como un récord, baby.

Yes, the "new Almodóvar" is a moving tale of love, murder, sin, and the supernatural. But I was every bit as excited as I was by the plot to learn that "to flip out" in today's Spain is flipárselo.

A likhtikn ganeydn zol er hobn*
Itche Goldberg dead at 102.

Even non-leftists (or non-socialist liberals like me) should mourn Reb Itche, or read about him if they don't know who he is.

*May he rest in peace.

The Great Charedi Smoke-Out
Cheers to Toldos Aharon!

I read here (via Yiddish Wikipedia) that the present rebbe of the Toldos Aharon sect issued two new edicts (takones) on Chanukah of this year - the traditional season for such things among this group of Chasidim. (I think the present rebbe is Rabbi Duvid Kahn, but Chasidic schismatics make my head spin.)

One takone has to do with not eating salad on Shabbos (I won't go into the reasons here). But the other is wonderful: it requires that adherents give up smoking for one day a week other than Shabbos (when religious Jews can't smoke anyway owing to prohibitions against burning). Maybe a few years from now smoking can be edict-ed out of existence in this group altogether!

Mass solemnization
Or: liturgy on deadline.

It turned out that this Shabbos (when I wasn't working) happened to be the day when our shul's rabbi talked about gays, lesbians, and marrying 'em off to each other. Being a rabbi, and a sober, thoughtful one at that, he said (I'm paraphrasing): "I'll think about it and let you know." No surprise there.

The decision for our shul about whether to solemnize (celebrate, kiddush-ify, etc.) gay and lesbian partnerships is not really up in the air; I'd be surprised if the rabbi's decision does not make use of the CJLS teshuvot allowing them. But one main thing, now that the decision has more or less already been made, is that these ceremonies be not lame.

By "not lame" I actually mean a somewhat higher standard: liturgically powerful. With traditional oomph. Let the first GL couple come up to our bimah and get married in the context of psukim thoughtfully and poetically framed. I want liturgical creativity but in a formalist vein. Let us not have fifty different versions of self-written vows, nor de-heterosexualized versions of kiddushin -- since homosexual marriages are bound to be something else. Why not a legal formula that challenges and surprises, as does the harei at every time I hear it said? Why not re-write the ketubah from scratch? Who says a glass has to be broken?

Super Jewish Historical Prediction Game
Anybody can play. And everybody wins!

I. circa 1980

Cathy Conservative: Women should read from the Torah!
Joe Modern Orthodox: Pshaw!

c. 1995

Joe M.O.: Look, everybody! Women can read from the Torah!

II. 2006

Cathy Conservative: Monogamous gay and lesbian relationships are kosher!
Joe M.O.: Pshaw!

c. 2025

Joe M.O.: __________ (you fill in the blank)

Hospital performance
Does it make a difference?

Maybe you know that you can now compare hospitals with regard to a number of "performance measurements." This does not refer to how well Mass General can play the hammered dulcimer, but to a number of indices that are considered basic to acute hospital care. Does the hospital give aspirin to everyone having a heart attack? Are people with heart failure encouraged to quit smoking when they leave the hospital? Et cetera. These indices are considered important not just on the experts' say-so, but because they have been associated in the scientific literature with improved outcomes. People who take aspirin after a heart attack live longer (and have fewer repeat MIs) than those who don't; smoking hurts heart failure; etc. These studies are, in general, randomized trials of large populations.

What's missing is the link between populations, outcomes, and hospitals. Do hospitals that perform better according to these indices reap the benefits (in terms of reduced morality for their patients) that the literature of populations would indicate? If a hospital gives more of its heart-attack patients aspirin than another hospital, will the first hospital have a lower rate of death due to heart attacks than the second? It seems plausible.

Comes a study by Werner and Bradlow to answer this question. In brief, the answer seems to be "Yes, but not much." To continue the MI (heart attack) example: eight percent of all hospitals surveyed were in the 75th percentile of achieving all reported measures. (That is, all the things that are supposed to happen before or after an acute MI in a hospital happened seventy-five percent of the time or more in these hospitals.) When these hospitals were compared to those in the 25th percentile, the mortality due to heart attacks at one year after the event was about two percent less. For pneumonia (another disease represented among the performance standards), the difference is about one percent.

So that's it? A hospital does everything right, more often than the other guy, and the mortality rate is only reduced by a few percentage points? The indices must be less closely related to mortality than we thought. The authors, however, as responsible scientists, take a more nuanced take. First, if you amortize the few percentage points' worth of difference over thousands of patients -- perform the thought experiment of moving all the patients who get seen at the "worst" 25th percentile to the "best" 75th -- the number of lives saved would reach the thousands. Secondly, we need to remember that wholesale improvements in mortality take societal and medical revolutions, like large-scale reductions in smoking, introduction of the intensive care unit, or (perhaps!) government intervention to reduce consumption of trans fatty acids. If "mere" organizational optimization (boring paper-pushing, hospital by hospital) can make a few percentage points' difference, then something small can be huge indeed.

There are the typical limitations and qualifications to attach to any study, of interest mostly to specialists like me. For instance, this is a "cross-sectional" study, overlaying snapshots of performance measures with snapshots on mortality -- not a more time- and resource-consuming, but potentially more rigorous, follow-up of a population over years to see if implementation of such performance standards leads in cause-and-effect fashion to improvement in mortality. And, of course, it's always problematic to compare the mortality rates of Raucous Public Hospital to Fancy Private Hospital, which differ for reasons much deeper than performance standards. It's possible (even expected) that even after controlling for every possible variable that could confound the relationship between performance and mortality, there are some factors still left out.

These caveats aside, this study may be a small but encouraging sign.

Conservosexuality NextGen
Where halachah meets the road.

It will be interesting to see what the rabbi of our liberal-but-observant Conservative shul says this Shabbos about the new teshuvot. Will he take the opportunity to affirm and sanctify the relationships of the many openly gay and lesbian balebatim? Or will he take a conservative tack? I won't be there; I'll be working then. Maybe someone else will fill me in.

Gay gezunt
A brief note about Rabbi Roth.

The decision of the Conservative movement's Committee on Jewish Law and Standards to approve three separate teshuvot with regard to homosexuality will satisfy no one completely. This baffles the extremists, who believe that no one should be satisfied at all. (For isn't the point of halachah an iron-bound maximalism?)

I wish Rabbi Roth weren't resigning from the Committee; I'm guessing this means that he will choose to no longer be affiliated with the movement. He is a towering scholar of unparalleled erudition. Perhaps though this a fitting moment to remind ourselves of two recent statements of Rabbi Roth's (made here):

I urge halakhically committed gay Jews not to reject the possibility that the severity of the halakhic demand of celibacy might be somewhat or significantly mitigated by some modes of therapy and treatment. Since the halakhic prohibition stands irrespective of whether there is treatment possible or not, there is little to be lost in giving a chance to treatment for which claims of marked success are made and attested.

As I mentioned before, the fact that Rabbi Roth believes such "attested" claims of "marked success" in the mitigation of homosexual behavior speaks more to his biases and unintentional ignorance than to any intellectual failing. More important however is his following claim:

. . . an inability to legitimate homosexuality halakhically makes no negative claim whatsoever about the humanity, sanctity, worth, and dignity of homosexuals.

The fact that Rabbi Roth sees no difficulty with this claim (or, at least, no necessity to defend it properly) casts light on a sharp disconnect between halachic strict constructivism and halachic compassion. (Note that this sentence itself makes no distinction between homosexual behavior and homosexuals themselves, a difference which Rabbi Roth dwells upon at length elsewhere.)

Update: A JTS source writes us.

Rabbis Roth and Rabinowitz left for different reasons. in Rabinowitz's case he believes there is not much point to the CJLS. Any rabbi can write a teshuvah and publish it on the web and any other rabbi can either follow that p'sak or not. Rabbi Roth left to make a point that "decisions have consequences". He thought the Dorff Nevins Reiser teshuvah was clearly a case of poskim considering an issue with a predetermined answer in mind. He sees nothing wrong with being predisposed to a certain answer as in the case with deciding someone is not a mamzer or not an agunah, but he says even then if the case is clear there is nothing to do. In his mind this a case where the answer was clear the other way. In particular he said the decision rested on three pillars--all of which would have to hold--and all of which are "tenuous at best". In particular he thought they made way too much out of an apparent makhlokhet between Rambam and Ramban about whether "everything else" is d'rabbanan. He said almost every rabbi since has said that Ramban simply misunderstood Rambam and thought Rambam was saying innocent touching was prohibited d'oraita. [I wish I could find a copy of Roth's teshuvah to better understand these arguments]. Roth also thought the principle of k'vod habrit was with only a few excpetions used for person X to violate a prohibition for the sake of person Y, and even when that was not the case it was always a social situation whereas private bedroom behavior was not a social situation.

Roth was asked how this decision was any worse than the driving teshuvah--and he served on the committee after that. Roth responded that he was a kid when the driving teshuvah came out. That this decision was not worse, but rather on par with the driving teshuvah and that he served on the committee to try to prevent anything like that from happening again, which it did. He notes that both the authors of the homosexuality teshuvah and the driving teshuvah had pure intentions, but were irresponsible. Roth said he will continue to pasken if asked his opinion on an issue. He also noted that many people asked him to reconsider his decision so he is doing that--reconsidering. He has not made any decisions yet about returning to the CJLS. Once again though it sounds clear that the resignation was solely from the CJLS and Roth does not seem to have any intention of leaving either JTS or the movement.

Imperfection and medicine
Or: You don't look well.

Here's a suggestion about one thing that makes being a doctor different from other professions, like playing the flute, writing poetry, or studying rattlesnakes. Each of these is concerned with the attainment of a perfect expertise -- or, at least, it's commonly thought by the practitioners themselves that there is such a thing as the most expressive flute player, the greatest poet, the most knowledgeable and groundbreaking herpetologist. Certainly it's true that one doctor can be better than another, but the trick is to define the right criteria. I'm not sure that doctors think that Jones, say, is a better doctor than Smith because she cures more of her sick patients than Smith does -- outcomes research notwithstanding. Because even if Jones cures all of her patients in one heady day of clinic, there are those of them who will get sick again -- some of them incurably. Some others will die. Some, to be sure, will get better again, through Jones's talents or in spite of them. But -- and this is what might distinguish doctoring from philosophizing or flute-playing -- much of Jones's professional life will be spent not attaining or even working towards perfection. Health is a doctor's goal, but only in a first-order sense. Most of the doctor's time is spent helping his patients deal with sickness. It would be strange to call the pianist an expert in missed notes, or the poet a coiner of slightly inapposite phrases, though such is their lot. It is more fitting to call the doctor a navigator of illness. If there's an aesthetic in the doctor's art, it's a negative one.

Rejoice like a hero running the basepaths

In a previous post I wondered how you say "home run" in Hebrew. Now I know how to say that, along with backstop, pivot foot, and RBI. If I cared at all about baseball I'm sure this would come in handy.

Verbal gymnastics at the Forward

Maybe it's just me, but the title of this article reads like an attempt at an anagram or a palindrome. It fails as the latter. I was never good at the former, and the phrase is too long for the Internet's various anagram servers -- but I'm sure some of my readers are more combinatorically talented than I.

The only other option is to take the article seriously.

Listen!

Miryem-Khaye Seigel has such a voice, I can only think our generation must be doing something right. She writes great Yiddish songs too. Now she has a Web page -- go look.

Defining the WikiJew
The ethnoreligious identity that anyone can edit: an article of mine in this week's Forward.

Who is a Jew? Let’s see what Wikipedia says about it. Or, rather, what the Wikipedias say, since the online encyclopedia is available in more than 100 languages. The answer to our question in English neither offends nor omits anyone: “[A] follower of Judaism, or [a member] of the Jewish people, an ethno-religious group descended from the ancient Israelites and from converts who joined their religion. The term also includes those who have undergone an officially recognized formal process of conversion to Judaism.” The Hebrew version (“Jews are an ethnic group of Semitic origin, in which membership is based on the Jewish religion”) is clearer, with a refreshing Israeli directness, but one will look in vain for the word “convert” — it isn’t mentioned in the article. And in Yiddish: “A Jew is a person who belongs to the Jewish people.” QED.

The English Wikipedia includes more than a million articles, and the Hebrew version about 45,000. Yiddish Wikipedia includes a little more than 2,000 articles, which makes it bigger than its counterpart in Tajik but smaller than Limburgian. So comparisons between these versions are not entirely fair.

Even so, the differences are illuminating. The English Wikipedia is a collaboration of thousands. Entries on non-trivial topics generally converge to a quasi-official style, with any unconventional stand revised out of existence. For its part, Hebrew is a Jewish language — but as far as Wikipedia (and modern Israel) are concerned, it is a national language, unceremoniously banishing to the sidelines the cozy bits of culture that Diaspora Jews hold dear. “Kugel” has no entry of its own, but languishes in the general entry “Pastries,” rubbing elbows awkwardly with “lasagna” and “pie.” Click on “Period of the Exile” in the Hebrew article “Jewish People” and you will be urged to (in Wikipedia-speak) “Edit ‘Period of the Exile.’” In other words, there’s nothing there.

And the Yiddish version? It’s Wikipedia moonshine, brewed by a bunch of bloggers, mostly Hasidic, with too much time on their hands. (I’m among the contributors.) Its entertainment-to-reliability ratio is far and away the highest of the three.

But there’s more to this comparison than clichéd Israel-Diaspora differences. The readers of each language have the benefit of a view denied to the others, so one can triangulate a version that benefits from all. What is Israel, for example? Says the English version, with overtones of propaganda: “The Middle East’s only parliamentary democracy and the nation state of the indigenous people of Eretz Yisrael.” Hebrew: “[A] parliamentary democracy found in the Middle East… defined as a Jewish, democratic state.” Yiddish Wikipedia reminds you first — before you’re even told about the State of Israel — that Yisroel can refer to a Jew, someone not of priestly lineage or a member of the Ten Tribes of the Kingdom of Israel. There is also a separate Yiddish article on what it means for there to be a Jewish state (a subject, as far as this reader can tell, undiscussed in the other Wikipedias).

Or, to take another example of a topic that gets different treatment, what is secular Jewish culture? The indulgent English-language article on the topic is apparently meant to catalog every movie, symphony, novel and TV show that Jews have had a hand in, while “Judaism as Culture” (in Hebrew) is a bare-bones — but useful — comparison of three philosophies of Jewish cultural peoplehood.

Other subjects, though not intrinsically Jewish, might be considered Jewish by association. “Homosexuality in Judaism” (English) is by and large given over to the positions of the three major Jewish movements, with obligatory hat-tips to Orthodox struggles with science, Conservative back-and-forthing and Reform cutting of the Gordian knot. Let us thank Herzl that there is no such article in the Hebrew Wikipedia. Homosexuality in (Israeli) Judaism is, in great measure, what the Jewish state makes of homosexuality. The items on the agenda in the United States are also matters of discussion in Israel. (The Yiddish reader looking up “Homosexuality” in her Wikipedia must first click through a notice that the content is only suitable for adults, before being told flatly that homosexuality “is not a Jewish concept.”)

The reader who uses these Wikipedias for Jewish research realizes that each of them has its particular virtues. The English Wikipedia is broad and detailed. The Hebrew version is relatively solid as a source for basic information on Israeli culture, literary and otherwise. The Yiddish version could be called Charedipedia. If you want the latest information on the Satmar succession struggle, the life history of the rabbis Teitelbaum, or diagrams of Hasidic dynasties, look no further. (Its treatment of religious topics, though fundamentalist, is also informative.)

But, as with any encyclopedia, Wikipedia (for Jewish topics as for anything else) should be used with care: There are large parts of the Jewish world that are ignored, glossed over or misunderstood in its pages. Hebrew Wikipedia knows nothing about the Jews of North America; until very recently, English Wikipedia was ignorant about Yiddish literature (as the Hebrew version still is); and Yiddish Wikipedia says little about nonreligious Jewish creativity, or intellectual endeavor in general. In the final analysis, the response to the user coming upon these deficiencies should not be a list of complaints, but a paraphrase of Hillel’s famous words to the convert: “Go and edit.”

Zackary Sholem Berger is a frequent contributor to the Forward. Wikipedia can change fast; some content referred to here might have changed since the article was written.

Annals of theocracy: special Jerusalem riots edition
Condemnation please?

It is probably too much to ask that Stateside religious Zionists (and I mean the Orthodox variety) distance themselves from this sort of loutish talk:

Israel’s chief rabbinate issued a statement Monday [against a planned gay pride parade in Jerusalem] calling Israel’s homosexuals the “lowest of people."

But it would be nice.

"Finish my pants!" "It's the New Yorker on the phone."
Tragedy, poetry, and Brooks Brothers.

For anyone who would like to publish a book of poetry, but doesn't think it will ever happen, I recommend this interview with Spencer Reece: a moving narrative of personal tragedy and poetic success (if not redemption).

How many people aged 20 to 39 do you talk to in a week?
Random epidemiology table.

Some authors from the Netherlands tried to improve estimates of the transmission of respiratory infections, by asking their study population: How many people did you have face-to-face conversations with during the past week? They asked this question separately for each age group: that is, the 20-39 year olds (e.g.) got asked how many people in each of the separate age groups (1-5, 6-12, 13-19, 20-39, 40-59, 60 or over) they had spoken to. This was done in Utrecht; see if your estimate matches theirs.

Why diagnose?

Just Google.

"You forbid!"
A few words about חלילה.

Abraham argues with God over the matter of Sodom and Gomorrah, and he says (Genesis 18:25):

חָלִלָה לְּךָ מֵעֲשֹׂת כַּדָּבָר הַזֶּה, לְהָמִית צַדִּיק עִם-רָשָׁע, וְהָיָה כַצַּדִּיק, כָּרָשָׁע; חָלִלָה לָּךְ--הֲשֹׁפֵט כָּל-הָאָרֶץ, לֹא יַעֲשֶׂה מִשְׁפָּט.

In the JPS 1915 translation:

That be far from Thee to do after this manner, to slay the righteous with the wicked, that so the righteous should be as the wicked; that be far from Thee; shall not the Judge of all the earth do justly?'

"That be far from Thee" translates the Hebrew חלילה לך (chalila lecha). How can we understand these words? Rashi quotes one of the Targumim, which glosses the word חלילה as "חולין הוא לך" -- "it is unfitting for you", or, more bluntly, "not holy." It is unholy for God to kill the just with the unjust. (R. David Kimchi euphemizes: "It is to be avoided with regards to Your glory to kill the just with the unjust.")

That is one understanding. On the other hand, Ibn Ezra writes that חלילה is "something impossible . . . some say that the word can be related to חלול [chalul] -- hollow." It is an impossibility -- not unholy or improper -- for God to kill the just with the unjust.

Slightly different again are the approaches of the vernacular translations. Targum Onkelos renders חלילה לך as קושטא אנון דינך. Literally I think this means "Your judgment is true," but perhaps it is meant in astonishment: "Is Your judgment not true?" That is, can Your judgment be reconciled with such a deed? Finally, the Septuagint renders the phrase with the Greek medamos. All I know about Greek is what I see in the dictionary, and mine says that the word means "not at all."

Thus we can understand indiscriminate slaughter as inappropriate to God's glory or as a basic impossibility of Divine behavior. Unfortunately, the latter understanding (which I find more attractive) makes an understanding of history, and the Bible, rather difficult. As the Torah Temimah says (I'm paraphrasing; the sefer is in my hospital locker): "How is one to understand this, when we know that when the Angel of Death is given permission to slaughter, he does so indiscriminately? But the purpose of this work is not to indulge in long excurses." I wish he had indulged here.

Yesh Tiqwa
Goodbye, Bene Beraq.

Why have the highway signs in Israel, until recently, featured strange transliterations of Hebrew place names into English? An article in Haaretz explains it all for you.

Momentous events
Details later. At least on point 3.

Gobo has kosher wine!

I got Fishbane's book (a few years old) on Biblical and rabbinic mythmaking.

Favorite words of this week's parshe: חלילה and עדנה. Not so obscure as to be "friendless," but open to multple interpretations.

Running language lightly over the sensorium
One fun poet out of three - not bad.
This week's Reading Between A and B made less of an impression than the last one I went to - maybe because I didn't have a nice chat afterwards to preserve it for later musing - but worthwhile nonetheless. Kathleen Ossip read from two thematic collections. The first, Cinephrastics, a book of movie poems, were at their best epigrammatic; at times I felt lost, because I don't know much about movies -- my fault, obviously. Another collection is set in the period of the Cold War. (So long ago!) It relied on an easy cliché, superficial suburban complacency beneath which roils a turbid undertow. (The work on the web site is more complicated and interesting than what she chose to read.)

Mary Jo Bang is well known and highly regarded, two risk factors for the Great Poet Syndrome: a tendency to orotund truisms (death is all around us, George Bush is a bad president), and an even more dreaded complication, the Great Poet Voice. (Imagine your most boring high school teacher. Then subtract intonation.) She also read from a thematic collection (these seem to be de rigueur), based on the letters of the alphabet. The most successful of these goes like this, in its entirety:

B is for Beckett
There is so little to say.

Here's another nice line of hers, plucked from context. It's about doctors. [I don't know where the line breaks go.] "How little else they know unless you tell them. I tell them I wish I could lie under the summer."

Chris Nealon, the middle poet, was entertainingly arch - qualities helped by his natural, fluid reading style. I appreciate poets that bring a persona to the microphone, and he was a jokester. Maybe his reading, his wit, his sexual jokes, can be identified with a "gay jester" type (Merrill, Powell). (If he's gay, that is. Maybe I'm wrong.) I wish I had more to quote, but he was reading pretty fast and I had had a bourbon to start the reading off (which I was well into by the time Nealon read. Maybe that's why I liked him the most?). A favorite line, again context-free: "She said: I want a tattoo. / She said, I want a thigh wound." Or the image of the city full of "instructible sparks." Or the title of this post, taken from a poem of his.

I would have bought his book, but the bourbon took up my free cash. I won't make that mistake again.

Insensitive introjection

I don't know if any of you remember my Medicine Mensch column way back in April, when I described a "code" on the ICU - that is, the death of a patient despite attempted resuscitation. I just now noticed a letter to the Forward written in response later that month, which I point out now as an instance of a common phenomenon: the tendency to ascribe to me, the columnist, an attitude in agreement with the attitudes described in the column. Thus:

In his April 14 Fast Forward column (“Springing Into Action”), Zackary Sholem Berger captures the unquestioning introjection of emotional insensitivity into the psyches of our physicians in training. As such, he seems unaware of the recurrent abhorrence to those outside his insider’s narrative: the initial “frown” by the resident whose chat was interrupted by a nurse’s concern over a dying patient; the “workplace banter” while the life of a husband, father, brother, friend… hung in the balance; the incompetent obscene specialist whom Berger feels compelled to shield, and finally, the reassurance of “the attending… that we should not beat ourselves up about the patient’s dying, that everything had been done the right way.”

Perhaps reflecting his own indoctrination, Berger attempts to anesthetize the reader’s pain with a reminder that those outside the code are the “uninitiated,” that the complete absence of any feelings whatsoever over a man’s death is sanctioned by a review and validation of the emergency protocol, as well as by the hollow reassurance of one’s superiors and peers.

The letter-writer, it seems, equates the depiction of emotional insensitivity with emotional insensitivity on the part of me, the writer. This is certainly possible but I think untrue in this case. Indeed, I share his concerns about the emotional insensitivity of many doctors; on the contrary, a careful reading of the article would not find a "complete absence of any feelings whatsoever" over the patient's death. In short: depiction of the status quo does not connote satisfaction with it.

Yiddishy doings
On Thursday, at the 92nd St. Y, a number of leading contemporary Yiddish vocalists will perform the songs of Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman. (Here's my most recent post about her.)

Also at the Y, on November 1st, Alana Newhouse moderates a discussion entitled "The Joys of Yiddishism." The question on the table (apparently): "Why are so many young Jews becoming interested in a language considered dead?" (Answers: (a) not so many; (b) superficial interest; (c) not dead.) More complicated, interesting, and articulate answers to be furnished by Alyssa Quint (literary scholar and Forward columnist), Itzik Gottesman (associate editor of the Yiddish Forward, and - by the way - Beyle Gottesman's son), and Allan Nadler (author and Forward columnist). Sense a trend? Newhouse is, of course, arts and culture editor at the Forward.

This Friday, for free!, you can hear Your Favorite Blogger talk about Yiddish and today's Lower East Side. I will also read a couple of my Yiddish poems, with English translations -- and then, separately and a bit later, read our Yiddish version of The Cat in the Hat. Davening at 6, a little smackerel of something at 7:15, I should be talking at 8 or so. This is all part of Synaplex at Town and Village Synagogue. (Actually, the most entertaining part of the evening should be the Yiddish sing-along led by Binyumen Schaechter, also at around 7:15. Schaechter, of course, is Beyle Gottesman's nephew and Itzik Gottesman's cousin. Who said the Yiddish world is inbred?)

Top Five Hospital Euphemisms* for "I Don't Know"
The suspense.

Number five: "It's unclear."

*Among doctors.

Beat on

Hug me, driving soak.
Leave no dry swatch.
Rained on this way
is perfectly wet.
One sea-pane's difference
from drowning.

Who owns human tissue?
Halachic parallels welcome. (זכין לאדם שלא בפניו?)

Federal regulations are based on a notion of voluntarism, but the right to refuse participation in research is based more on ensuring that subjects can be the ones to judge how to protect their own interests than on a pure form of autonomous decision making, which would include a right to refuse for any reason or no reason at all. Hence, no consent is required for research deemed to pose minimal risk to subjects — or for research in which identifying information is obscured or from which it has been deleted (which protects privacy and minimizes social risks such as stigmatization or discrimination, but does nothing to recognize subjects' autonomy). And when patients' preferences regarding the kinds of research that may be performed on their tissue are ascertained, this is done as a courtesy, rather than as recognition of patients' rights to prohibit the use of their tissues for purposes of which they disapprove.

From R. Alta Charo, Body of Research -- Ownership and Use of Human Tissue. NEJM 2006;355(15):1517-1519.

Snows of yesteryear
Gone, daddy, gone.

Says my daughter, looking at a picture of a snowy landscape: "S'iz gegangen a shney!" ("It snowed!"). Then she paused, and said in English, "The snow's gone!" I didn't have the heart to correct such a cute calque.

When friends become bloggers

Long-time friend and consistent commenter Becca now has her own corner of the Yid-o-sphere. Recent posts include a review of a new-ish Conservative machzor, and a spirited, enlightening defense of why Geshem, a liturgical poem of the season asking for rain, should also include women among the ancestors whose merit we're invoking.

Misc.
Some-nium gatherum.

1. Look, Ma, No Bathrobe!

I forgot to wear my kitl to work on the morning of Yom Kippur, so I could wear it to minchah if I got out of work early enough to go to shul that day. I also forgot to leave my favorite machzor at shul before the holiday. Ditto my tallis. Thus, since I no longer carry in the eruvless wonderland that is now Manhattan, I was sans kitl, wearing the same pseudo-silk, slippy-shoulder quarter-tallises that everyone else was. Davening from the same gack-inducing translations. In other words, I had to leave my snobbiness at home -- salutary.

2. Chinatown Clinic

I felt great that I helped my patients today in clinic. Getting home before ten o'clock at night wasn't bad either. But I really felt like a kid in a candy store interviewing a patient for the first time in Chinese -- and he understood me. (If he had more complicated medical problems, I would have resorted to the translator phones.)

A non-ingenious paradox*
What's (not) eating you?

We're supposed to afflict ourselves on Yom Kippur. But I like fasting (apart from the associated lack of milkshakes). Unsurprisingly, then, material affliction can lead to spiritual pleasure. Or what can be mistaken for spiritual pleasure -- dizziness from low blood sugar is not the same thing. You have to be self-aware enough to realize that a temporary religious high (from fasting, prayer, and the like) is not the same thing as spiritual progress. That bowing your head like a reed on a fast day does not necessarily give you a backbone you'll be proud of on the day after.

*Quack, quack.