Tag Archives: Eduyot

Hamas in the Torah

In this week’s parasha, Noach, we read about the Great Flood that “reset” the world millennia ago. The reason for the Flood is given in one terse sentence right at the beginning of the parasha: “The Earth became corrupt before God; the Earth was filled with hamas.” (Genesis 6:11) Two verses later, we are again told: “God said to Noah: ‘I have decided to put an end to all flesh, for the Earth is filled with hamas because of them, so I will destroy them with the Earth.’” The mysterious word hamas appears just a few more times in the Torah. It is typically translated as “violence” or “lawlessness”. Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo Itzchaki, 1040-1105) comments here that hamas is gezel, “theft” or “robbery”. Chizkuni (Rabbi Hezekiah ben Manoach, c. 1250-1310) explains that hamas is a particular type of theft or robbery accomplished through subterfuge and manipulation. He brings verses from other places in Tanakh that use this term to show that it can also mean sexual sin, idolatry, and the shedding of innocent blood. The Ibn Ezra (Rabbi Avraham ben Meir ibn Ezra, 1089-1167) adds that hamas refers to the abduction of women against their will. As we’ve horrifically witnessed in recent days, all of these are accurate descriptions of the group that calls itself Hamas, an organization that is violent and manipulative, a band of thieves who abduct, rape, and pillage, shed the blood of innocents—and do it all supposedly in the name of Allah, a most-appalling act of idolatry.

Countries that designate Hamas as a terrorist organization.

This is certainly not a coincidence. It appears that long ago the Torah encoded and predicted the rise of yet another Hamas that would wreak destruction upon the world. In fact, every instance of hamas in Tanakh seems connected to the terror group Hamas. The third case after the two above is when Sarah vented to Abraham her frustration with the pregnant Hagar, saying hamasi aleikhah (Genesis 16:5). Of course, Hagar would go on to give birth to Ishmael, forefather of the Arabs and spiritual father of Muslims. This makes a clear link between hamas and Ishmael, so that we would know exactly who they are!

The next instance of hamas in the Torah is connected to Simon and Levi’s surprise-attack upon the people of Shechem. On his deathbed, their father Jacob reproved them for the massacre, and said they should not have taken up klei hamas against their neighbours (Genesis 49:5). The next two cases both invoke ‘adei hamas, lying and conspiring false witnesses (Exodus 23:1 and Deuteronomy 19:16). Lying eye-witnesses and staged “Pallywood” videos are a classic tool in the Hamas book of tricks. This was most apparent in the recent errant rocket that landed short in the parking lot of a Gaza hospital. A minor event with minimal damage was creatively transformed into a “major attack” by Israel upon a hospital that supposedly killed hundreds. The whole thing was an elaborate lie, but the media ate it up and demonized Israel instantly without bothering to check the facts.

King David presciently foresaw the lying media in Psalm 58, which he began by saying that those who are looked upon to speak truth and justice instead have “wrongdoing in their hearts”. They have blood on their hands, too, for they collude with those ba’aretz hamas (58:3). In Psalm 11 he reminds us that “God seeks out the righteous man, but loathes the wicked one who loves hamas.” They will get their comeuppance, and “He will rain down upon the wicked blazing coals and sulfur; a scorching wind shall be their lot. For God is righteous and He loves righteous deeds; the upright shall behold His face.”

Meanwhile, Ezekiel spoke at length about the final war at the End of Days (Ch. 38-39), then described the Third Temple and the outlines of a rebuilt Jewish kingdom. He quotes God as chastising the failed leaders of Israel: “Thus said the Lord God: Enough, leaders of Israel! Make an end of hamas and crime, and do what is right and just! Put a stop to your evictions of My people—declares the Lord God.” (Ezekiel 45:19) We shouldn’t forget that it was the State of Israel’s failed leadership that unilaterally handed over Gaza to the Palestinians back in 2005 and created this mess, while forcefully evicting Jews who had lived there peacefully. And we shouldn’t forget that Israel’s leadership once quietly supported Hamas in the 1980s, hoping to use them as a wedge against Fatah. (This was the same mistake made by the United States in supporting the Mujahideen against the USSR, only to have the same terrorists turn around and attack America some years later.) And where was Israel’s leadership last week? We are all still confounded as to how such a massacre was even possible. Ezekiel tells us that God will hold Israel’s leaders to account. And he makes it clear that the leaders of Israel must “do what is right and just” and finally end hamas v’shod for good.

That second term shod (שד) is typically translated as “crime” or “rapine”. However, the same word with the same spelling is shed, a demonic force. When we look at the recent crimes of Hamas—which they proudly displayed for the whole world—there is no doubt that the demonic was involved. No human being could commit such crimes without assistance and inspiration from the Sitra Achra, the “Other Side”, the realm of evil. It isn’t surprising, therefore, that our Sages centuries ago described that there are those within the House of Ishmael that are likened to “demons of the outhouse” (Kiddushin 72a). Interestingly, the numerical value of hamas (חמס) is 108, equal to Gehinnom (גיהנם). In Reishit Chokhmah, we learn that there are three origins or “gates” to Gehinnom: in the sea (ים), in the wilderness (מדבר), and in a settlement (ישוב). One can immediately see a connection to Hamas’ recent three-pronged attack, with an invasion by sea landing at the Zikim Beach, an attack on a nature party in the wilderness, and into Sderot and surrounding settlements. This was a massacre straight out of Hell.

It is worth concluding with a Mishnah in Eduyot (2:10) which suggests that five things last exactly one year or twelve months: the Flood, the suffering of Job, the plagues in Egypt, the forthcoming war of Gog u’Magog, and the judgement of the wicked in Gehinnom. This ties everything together: we began with the Flood, where the notion of hamas is first introduced; and our suffering today is much like the suffering of Job, who tragically lost all of his children, his home, his wealth and health, and even his faith. The Prophets compare the events at the End of Days to those in ancient Egypt (and say that Pesach seders in the future will recount not just the Exodus but also the salvation at the End of Days). And we hope to be in the final Gog u’Magog war now, when all evil and all the forces of Gehinnom will be defeated for good. This was foreseen by Isaiah, who declared that “No more shall hamas be heard in your land, nor shod or ruin within your borders” (Isaiah 60:18).

Let us pray that we see this day very soon.

Mourning and Music in the Omer

As we count each day during Sefirat haOmer in the weeks between Pesach and Shavuot, we are conscious of the 24,000 slain students of Rabbi Akiva and observe a period of mourning. It is fitting to think of those victims as we ourselves focus on personal development and self-improvement during this time, in preparation for the Sinai Revelation on Shavuot—which didn’t just take place once some three millennia ago, but happens anew each year. Having said that, it is interesting that we seemingly have so many days of mourning to commemorate the tragedy, yet we don’t have such prolonged mourning for other terrible catastrophes in Jewish history (some of which are arguably much worse). Where did this extended mourning period come from?

If we look in our legal texts, we surprisingly find very little. The Talmud says nothing about mourning in these days. It is brought down that some of the Geonim (c. 600-1000 CE) may have mentioned mourning during this period, and that there was a custom not to hold weddings between Pesach and Shavuot (see, for instance, the collection of Geonic responsa published in 1802 under the title Sha’arei Teshuvah, #278). It is strange then that the Rambam (Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, 1138-1204), who carefully codified the Talmud and the entire corpus of Jewish law up to that point (including the works of the Geonim!) makes no mention of mourning during the Omer in his monumental Mishneh Torah. The Rambam was Sephardic so one might argue that he may have omitted a custom that developed in Ashkenaz first. Yet, the Machzor Vitry, composed by Rashi’s disciple Rabbi Simchah of Vitry (in northern France) in the 11th century, fails to mention anything about mourning during the Omer either! Neither is it mentioned by great Rishonim like the Rif (Rabbi Isaac Alfasi, 1013-1103) or the Rosh (Rabbeinu Asher, c. 1250-1327).

Timeline of Rabbinic history and halakhic eras

Its first notable mention appears to be the Arba’ah Turim of Rabbi Yakov ben Asher (the “Ba’al haTurim”, 1270-1340), son of the Rosh, who was Ashkenazi but lived in Spain. In Orach Chaim 493, he says it is customary not to have weddings during the Omer, though engagements are permitted. He then states that in some places it is also customary not to take haircuts. No mention is made of abstaining from music, avoiding reciting shehecheyanu, or any other mourning rituals. Interestingly, other sources from this time period (like Sefer Asufot) argue that the mourning period arose not because of Rabbi Akiva’s students, but because of the devastation of the Crusades on Ashkenazi communities! Later sources would combine both reasons, and explain that the mourning is both for Rabbi Akiva’s students and for the Crusades.

Massacres of Jewish communities around the time of the First Crusade (1096-1102)

It should be noted that there is an alternate, more mystical reason for mourning (or at least, for avoiding festivities) during the Omer: the Mishnah brings an opinion that the wicked in Gehinnom are judged specifically between Pesach and Shavuot (Eduyot 2:10). In truth, this is only a singular opinion of one Sage, contrasting an earlier statement that judgement in Gehinnom lasts a full 12 months. It is possible to reconcile the two opinions by saying that following a person’s passing, their soul is judged for up to 12 months, and then if the verdict is for the person to remain in Gehinnom, they are subsequently rejudged each year between Pesach and Shavuot. Since we know that the deaths of Rabbi Akiva’s students actually ended on Lag b’Omer and did not extend all the way to Shavuot (hence the mourning stops on Lag b’Omer), we might apply that same rule to the judgement in Gehinnom as well. In this case, we have yet another mystical reason for lighting bonfires on Lag b’Omer, as these would be appropriately symbolic of the “flames” of Gehinnom.

The above somewhat contradicts the notion that judgements take place specifically on Rosh Hashanah. We assume that all souls, both Jewish and non-Jewish, living and deceased, are judged on this day. Interestingly, the Arba’ah Turim (in Orach Chaim 581) explains that Jews customarily shave before Rosh Hashanah because, unlike gentiles, we don’t grow out our beards in fear of judgement! We are certain that God will judge us favourably. This notion presents something of a problem for the idea of not shaving because of the judgement in Gehinnom.

Haircuts and Music

Continuing our journey through halakhic history, the next major law code was the Shulchan Arukh (which was really only a summary of the larger Beit Yosef). Rabbi Yosef Karo (1488-1575) produced it by integrating the Mishneh Torah with the Arba’ah Turim, and the Rif, plus updating it with newer established customs, as well as the occasional Kabbalistic practices. It was meant to be a universal code of law, and something like the authoritative “last word”, satisfying the majority of opinions. In our times, Rav Ovadia Yosef famously argued that the Shulchan Arukh should be the supreme code of Jewish law, especially in the land of Israel where it always held primacy since its publication.

Regarding mourning during the Omer, the Shulchan Arukh again mentions only weddings and haircuts. It explains that, of course, the mourning ends on Lag b’Omer, and doesn’t extend all the way to Shavuot. The Rama (Rabbi Moshe Isserles, c. 1530-1572) adds in his gloss for Ashkenazim that some have the custom to allow haircuts until Rosh Chodesh Iyar, and only start the mourning period after this. That actually makes a great deal of sense, since we consider the entire month of Nisan to be a festive month, and we don’t recite tachanun at all throughout the month. This is stated clearly in Masekhet Sofrim 21:2-3, which also says that fasting in Nisan should be avoided (except for the firstborn before Pesach). For this reason, many religious authorities opposed the Zionists establishing Yom HaShoah—Israel’s Holocaust Memorial Day—in Nisan, because there shouldn’t be a mourning day within the festive month. It is therefore quite ironic that, at the same time, many religious authorities typically encourage mourning practices in the same Nisan days for the Omer!

It must be repeated that our ancient Sages did not actually institute such mourning, and it is a later custom. Rabbi David Bar-Hayim argues that the Sages did not institute mourning during the Omer because they understood we already have enough mourning days on the Jewish calendar, particularly on Tisha b’Av and the three weeks leading up to it. If we add several more weeks of mourning during the Omer, plus all the other fast days and sad days on the Jewish calendar, it can become quite depressing and psychologically unhealthy. Rabbi Bar-Hayim adds that while we may have a minhag to mourn during the Omer, it is certified halakhah to honour Shabbat and appear presentable and regal on the holy day, therefore it is entirely permitted to trim or get a haircut before Shabbat, even during the Omer.

For many today, the biggest question during the Omer is regarding listening to music. None of the ancient sources speak of abstaining from music, all the way up to the Shulchan Arukh, and beyond. So where did it come from? In his commentary on the Shulchan Arukh, the Magen Avraham (Rabbi Avraham Gombiner, c. 1635-1682) adds that dancing at parties during the Omer is forbidden. Based on this, Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein (1829–1908) argued in his Arukh haShulchan (first published in 1884) that if dancing is prohibited, then we must extend the prohibition to music as well, since it inevitably leads to dancing. This appears to be the first clear argument anywhere for avoiding music during the Omer. The position has been rejected by others, as there is no direct guaranteed leap from music to dancing. After all, many people listen to music just to relax, or while driving or cleaning, or to motivate themselves to work or exercise, and so on. For these reasons, some only prohibit live music, not recorded music.

Rav Soloveitchik argued that the Omer mourning should have a precedent from other mourning practices, like the shiva, shloshim, or the year-long mourning following the death of a parent. Since the Omer mourning is likened to the latter, the prohibition is only on going to parties or concerts, but not listening to music in private. His contemporaries, Rav Moshe Feinstein and Rav Ovadia Yosef, disagreed on this and prohibited all music during the Omer. (In the case of Rav Ovadia, this is somewhat inconsistent, since he always argued for the primacy of Shulchan Arukh, which makes no mention of abstaining from music! Nonetheless, it seems he was upholding a modern-day stringency, even if it isn’t mentioned in his go-to law code.)

To summarize, there is no doubt that forbidding weddings between Pesach and Lag b’Omer is based on a valid ancient custom that likely goes back as far as the Geonim. (Though some, even today, do permit and hold weddings up through Rosh Chodesh Iyar.) Abstaining from haircuts is a bit more recent, but still has a source going back some 700 years. It should be remembered that many authorities starting from the Rishonim and up to the present allow haircuts and trimming (or even shaving) to stay presentable, especially in honour of Shabbat, or if necessary for work purposes. This is particularly true if a person is accustomed to trimming or shaving daily.

Finally, regarding music, there is no ancient source for the prohibition. While it is true that one should ideally avoid parties and concerts during the Omer, not listening to music in private is a very recent stringency, perhaps just over a century old. For those who simply cannot go so long without music, there is definitely room to permit it. Either way, there is no need to worry about passively hearing background music in the elevator or supermarket, nor any concern for those who make a living working in the music industry. Nor should a person who has a birthday during the Omer feel condemned to never be able to have a festive birthday party in their life! (See also ‘Should Jews Celebrate Birthdays?’) Lastly, we shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that, despite the seriousness, the Sefirat haOmer period is simultaneously a time of great joy. The Ramban (Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, 1194-1270)—who also said nothing about mourning during this time—described the whole period from Pesach to Shavuot as chol hamoed, like the intermediate days of a festival (see his comments on Leviticus 23:36). Sefirat haOmer is indeed a festive, positive, and happy time, especially because we have the opportunity to do a most-precious Torah mitzvah of counting the Omer, while eagerly anticipating a new year of Torah learning ahead starting on Shavuot.

Happy counting! 

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