The Questions (and Answers) of BDJ

View a printable version of this Q & A here.

Q: Growing up we had a mezuzah on the front doorpost of any house we lived in. Since when has it been the custom to place on almost all doors in a home and on the garage and or in the car? Can the one suffice?

A: (RYK) This is a fascinating story. We have evidence from as long ago as the 14th century that, despite Talmudic indications to the contrary, there was a widespread custom in Europe to only affix a Mezuzah to the front door of the house, and not to the inner doorways. This widespread custom is cited, disapprovingly, by Rabbi Yaakov ben Moshe Levi Moelin (known as Maharil) who is best known for his codification of the customs of the German Jews. One of Maharil’s disciples, R. Moshe Isserlis (the “Rama” of Shulchan Aruch fame) writes (Y.D. 287:2), “The practice which is widespread in these areas is that most of the world relies on a single mezuzah that they place on the door to their houses. But this is incorrect, and they have nothing [no legal source] to rely on for this. Therefore, every God-fearing person should fix his house according to the law [so that there will be mezuzot] on all of the doors that require them…”

Various explanations are offered as to how this custom may have developed. Shach, in his commentary on Rama’s words, suggests one possibility. Perhaps, he posits, people thought that the ever-present possibility (especially in earlier centuries) of some form of filth in any given internal room made these rooms inappropriate for, or exempt from, mezuzah. (Shach goes on to explain why this is not the case.) Others suggest that perhaps the custom developed through people associating the mezuzah with the protection that was afforded by the “blood on the mezuzot” from the Exodus story. (The blood was only placed on the mezuzot of the front door.) While this is a natural association, the Torah itself never explicitly (or implicitly) makes it, and in fact the entire association between the affixing of a mezuzah and the protection from external dangers is decidedly not Biblical, rather rabbinic in origin. Whatever the explanation may have been, Maharil, Rama, and Shach et. al. were not willing to consider the practice as being normative Halacha.  

Most strikingly, R. Yechiel Epstein, the author of Aruch HaShulchan, who often goes out of his way to justify the customs of Israel even when they seem to be at variance with the law, labels this custom as fallacious, referring to it (287:11) as a “custom that should not be mentioned”.

So… your family was in good historical company to be sure, but the evidence appears convincing that the custom of only one mezuzah - widespread as it was - was a halachikly incorrect one. Today of course, we have so many more doorways and rooms than folks used to typically have in their homes, making mezuzot quite the small investment. And we bless God for our abundance :). 

Q: Has there ever been a teshuva about creating or using a shofar that does not involve harm to the animal? In other words, I'm curious (although I'm a carnivore) if vegans and animal-lovers have a halachik option to blow a shofar that could have been from another source.

A: (RYK) No animal needs to be slaughtered in order to produce a shofar. According to halacha, the horn of an animal that died on its own is perfectly valid as a shofar. In practice, shofars are generally obtained from countries where mutton is a staple of the diet, and mature sheep are slaughtered for food. (And it of course matters not whether the slaughter of the animal was done by halachic “shechitah” standards.) Thus, in practice, animals are never slaughtered specifically for the purpose of producing a shofar. 

That said, the shofar is, unmistakably, an animal product (in the same way that Sifrei Torah, Tefillin, Mezuzot, and Megillot are). It is understandable that this may render the shofar an uncomfortable ritual item for some, but there isn’t any substitute for the purposes of fulfilling the mitzvah of shofar on Rosh HaShana. The framing I might humbly suggest to one who is uncomfortable is that the powerful Biblical and historical associations with the shofar give it a ritual significance that takes precedence over other sensibilities, as worthy as those sensibilities are.

Q: Every Sukkot, without fail, I forget which way to set up the lulav. Hadas on which side? Aravot on which side? And when I get those answers, how do I know which side is the correct perspective (I know it involves the spine facing a certain direction).

This question is less about clarifying which way to do it, and more about the significance and importance of getting those details correct.

A: In terms of the practical bottom line of hadas and arava placement, here’s the information that we publish each year as Sukkot is approaching:

To assemble the lulav, hadasim and aravot, begin by holding the lulav so that the thick green spine is facing you. The hadasim (of which you have three) go on the right side of the lulav & the aravot (of which you have two) go on the left. The hadasim should extend just a little higher than the aravot & the lulav should extend several inches higher than the hadasim.   

The really interesting thing here is that for most of Jewish history, there were no instructions at all as to which side the hadasim and aravot should respectively be placed. Open the Shulchan Aruch (to 651:1) and you will find not a word about right-left placement. The only comment regarding placement is recorded by Rama who cites Maharil (see the Mezuzah answer above) in saying the hadasim should preferably be placed a little bit higher than the aravot. (This may be linked to the Midrashic tradition which regards the hadas as more elevated than the arava because the former has a pleasant odor while the latter has none.) 

The discussion about placement begins to appear in the Kabbalistic literature (which also means that it would be above my paygrade to explain the reasoning behind it.) It is here summarized in the Magen Avraham (17th century commentary on the Shucahn Aruch). Please note that this first custom mentioned is NOT the one that Ashkenazi Jews do! 

The custom to raise the hadassim higher is according to our master R. Yaakov Weil (Magharil).  Also see the Levush and the writings of the Arizal, which state that one must bind the three hadassim so that one is to the right of the lulav, one to the left, and one in the middle. For the two aravot, one is to the right [of the lulav] and one to the left. The Shelah writes in the name of the Mateh Moshe that the aravah is to the left and the hadas is to the right and the lulav is in the middle.

The common Sephardic practice is in accordance with the Levush, and the Ashkenazic one is in accordance with the Shelah. It’s important to say that in the end, all of this is in the realm of custom, and as long as a person took all of the appointed species together, he /she has fulfilled the Mitzvah.

Q: What is the proper way to do hamotzi on shabbat with the two challahs?  In terms of which one do you cut first, do you make a cut or something else before the bracha …

A: (RYK) Great questions. Let’s begin with the question as to whether it is advised / not advised to make a small cut in the challah before reciting hamotzi. The Shulchan Aruch (167:1), writing about the laws of “breaking bread” generally (i.e. not specifically on Shabbat), mentions the halachic preference to recite hamotzi over a whole loaf whenever this is an option, rather than over a piece of a loaf. This affords the bracha more honor. Thus, the order of operations whenever one has a whole loaf is to first recite hamotzi, and only after that to cut the bread. However, the Shulchan Aruch then goes on to advise that one should make just a small cut in the loaf before reciting “hamotzi”. The purpose of this small pre-cut (imagine a loaf with a nice thick crust!) is that it will slightly reduce the amount of time that will transpire between the recitation of the bracha and the enjoying of the bread, as the cutting of the bread will go faster.  Reducing the time between the bracha and the enjoying is also a general desideratum in halacha. 

The Shulchan Aruch adds though that this pre-cut has to be a “goldilocks” cut, i.e. enough of a cut to help speed the post-bracha cutting process, but not so deep a cut that you’ve rendered the loaf no longer “whole”. A cut is considered “too deep” if it’s the sort of cut that would result in the larger portion of the loaf tearing off and falling if you were to pick the loaf up from the smaller side of the cut. 

Because of the challenge of achieving a “goldilocks cut”, Rama adds here that this pre-cut should NOT be done on Shabbat. It’s one thing to risk the possibility of rendering the loaf unwhole on a weekday, when the only thing at stake is the honor of the bracha. On Shabbat however the stakes are higher, as the practice of reciting hamotzi over lechem mishneh (two whole loaves in honor of Shabbat) could be jeopardized by a cut-too-deep. So best, Rama says, to not pre-cut on Shabbat at all. The Magen Avraham nonetheless suggests making just a small mark with the knife even on Shabbat, but this is truly a matter of custom. 

Now, as for the second part of the question: The Talmud rules that on Shabbat we should hold the two loaves in our hand and cut the upper of the two challot, in accordance with the general rule that we never “pass over” a mitzvah that is immediately at hand. There is however a Kabbalistic custom cited by the Shulchan Aruch (274:1), to davka cut the underneath challah davka on Friday night, i.e. but not on Shabbat day or at any of the meals on Yom Tov (again, the reasoning is above my paygrade). R. Yoel Sirkis, in his commentary on the Tur Shulchan Aruch expresses astonishment at this overturning (pun intended) of the normative Halacha, and the Taz commentary suggests an accommodation whereby the underneath challah is placed closer to the one reciting ha-motzi, thus somewhat mitigating the “passing over” of the upper challah. 

I won’t judge you either way 🙂.

Q: Growing up, I learnt that it was important to stack sefarim such that the “holier” books were on top. Is this really a Halacha? If so, how does one determine “holier” books?

A: (RYK) This too is an interesting story, as there is unquestionably a solid Talmudic basis for the discussion and the halachic issue is quite real in that sense, but the application beyond the cases explicitly discussed in the Talmud is a bit speculative. Here’s the citation from the Talmud (Megillah 27a), courtesy of Sefaria: 

A Torah scroll may be placed upon a Torah scroll, and a Torah scroll may be placed upon scrolls of one of the five books of the Torah (a “chumash”), and a “chumash” scroll may be placed upon scrolls of the Prophets (“nevi’im”) or Writings (“ketuvim”). However, scrolls of the Prophets or Writings may not be placed upon “chumash” scrolls, and “chumash” scrolls may not be placed upon a Torah scroll. 

One could certainly infer from the Talmud’s ruling (which is cited by the Shulchan Aruch) that there is a general rule that books need to be stacked in descending order of sanctity. In practicing this law, we make several assumptions that are not explicit in this passage, but which are thought to be reasonable conclusions:

1. We assume that although the items being discussed in the Talmud are scrolls (i.e. hand-written on parchment, and appropriate for formal ritual use), the same laws would nonetheless pertain to printed books. (Aruch HaShulchan questions this assumption, but in practice we make no distinction.)
2. We assume that books of rabbinic literature (Mishna, Gemara, Midrash, and so on) all rank lower than Nevi’im and Ketuvim, and also that there is no ranking among them.
3. A siddur is a tricky case as it contains within it excerpts from all the above-mentioned books. As you might imagine, theories abound (and you can find these theories and more in this lovely essay by R. Yirmiyahu Kaganoff). Perhaps, the Siddur should be on par with a chumash as it contains passages of chumash within it, or perhaps on par with rabbinic literature as the Siddur, as a literary work, is in fact a rabbinic compilation. Or maybe it’s below Scripture but above rabbinic literature?? How about a lively Shabbat table discussion about it 😊?

Q: I’ve heard that a Shofar is muktzah, apart from the mitzvah itself. Is this true? Can one blow a shofar in the afternoon of Rosh Hashanah for example for fun? What about for practice? What about for Chinuch for children or letting children or teens practice blowing it on chag?

A: (RYK) Great questions. On Shabbat, it is forbidden to handle a shofar (i.e. it is considered “muktzah”, much the same way that other noisemakers and instruments are. It is in the muktzah category of “an object whose primary purpose is forbidden”.)  

On a Rosh HaShana weekday the shofar is obviously not muktzah, but we are instructed to blow the shofar only for the purposes of the mitzvah. “For the purposes of the mitzvah” includes our traditional shul practice of blowing beyond the 30 - 60 required blasts to reach a total of 100, as well as any practicing that a Ba’al Tokea needs to do in order to blow later that day. Interestingly, the Rama rules (596:1) that children who are interested in learning how to blow shofar may do so “all day” if they wish, and an adult is permitted to help them learn good technique (and presumably blow himself in that educational context) (see Mishna Brurah 5).

Q: It seems that having t'cheilet in one's tzitzit is a Torah Mitzvah. It seems that the means of developing the t'cheilet dye is now generally accepted in Modern Orthodox and Dati Leumi circles. So, should we be having techeilet in our tzitzit, or is there still as safek about the kashrut of techeilet that we should not be using it?

A: (RYK) Wonderful question. The research that went into rediscovering the source of the biblical Tekhelet is impressive and persuasive. You can read about it here on the website of Ptil Tekhelet, which educates about the issue worldwide, and is a major provider of tekhelet strings. They have the endorsement of many, many prominent rabbis, and I would not for a second doubt the merit of wearing tekhelet.

So, the question then is as to why this has not become a universal custom. At its root, this is because there are also numerous prominent rabbis who have taken a far less enthusiastic position about the new/old tekhelet. Rabbi Soloveitchik for example, is said to have believed that from a halachik perspective tekhelet is categorized as “a lost tradition”, and the mitzvah to wear it is effectively nullified (until the messianic era) given the thousands of years when we did not have it. Other prominent rabbis have presumed that absent definitive evidence that what we have today is the ancient, Biblical tekhelet, it is misleading to future generations (who might discover that the present thinking is erroneous) to reintroduce it. Rabbi Asher Weiss has publicly questioned the identification that the good folks at Ptil Tekhelet have made. (See here for some of the back and forth around R. Weiss’ position.)

I suspect that there is something visceral at play too, that is not unrelated to the formal rabbinic objections mentioned above. And this is simply that a tallit is more than a ritual object. It is a religious garment that has a deep generational-emotional resonance to it (witness the tradition of being buried in one’s tallit). And as a result, people want to wear a tallit that looks like their father’s tallit and their grandfather’s tallit. And something newfangled seeming somehow feels wrong. There is even a halachik name for this feeling, referred to in the Talmud as “do not cast aspersion on the observance of the generations before you”.

Bottom line: A person who is inspired to wear tekhelet should do so, knowing that he is following excellent research and the practice of many prominent rabbis. And those (like me) who haven’t made the move are simply giving greater weight to other meaningful factors.

Q: I've heard that one should not move a Sefer Torah from its fixed place. But I sometimes see a Sefer Torah outside of its natural habitat, most notably at shiva minyanim, but also at Mincha East and the TBA-BDJ-Ikar Tisha B'Av program. I can see only two possibilities: Either BDJ permanently places a Sefer Torah at each of its members' homes (in which case, could you please inform me where mine is hidden?), or there is some nuance to this halacha. Under what circumstances can one transport a Sefer Torah to a nonstandard minyan location? And do special leniencies apply to shiva minyanim?

A: The Shulchan Aruch (OH 135:14) cites a medieval halachik tradition that a Sefer Torah should not be moved for the sake of an individual or – seemingly - even for a minyan of individuals. The Sefer Torah’s home is in the shul, and people should come to its home, rather than the Torah traveling to their homes. The Shulchan Aruch does not make an exception even for a shiva minyan.

The more flexible practice that you have experienced is based upon the Rama there, who limits the prohibition to a situation in which the Torah is literally being brought in, read from, and then whisked out again. But if the Torah is brought there the previous day (or perhaps even hours before it is read is sufficient) and remains there for some period of time after it is read, then the Torah is not considered as having been “bumped out of its home”, rather as having been given a new, albeit temporary, home. Mishna Brurah adds that this is especially so if the Torah is placed in an Aron in its temporary location, as this reinforces the sense that the Torah is “at home”, and the people have come to its home in order to read from it. 

There’s something beautiful and moving about this. 

You can read more on this topic here

Q: I have two questions about the custom of wearing a kippah. In what settings is it halachically required? At home, when working in the garden, on public transportation, at work, at the gym? Secondly, in what contexts can a baseball cap, or another men's head covering, say, a cowboy hat or a beanie, substitute for a kippah? Thank you.

A: I’ll begin with a short citation from a previous week’s entry: 

[It was] the custom of pious Talmudic masters to cover their heads in deference to God. See for example, Shabbat 118b where Rav Huna is praised for not having walked four amot without a head covering, reasoning that, “the Shekhina is above my head, so how can I go around with it uncovered?” The custom of Rav Huna and others became a widespread and lauded custom among Jewish men generally over time. Some authorities argued that when a man invokes God’s name it is not merely a matter of custom to cover his head, but a matter of obligation, and this is in fact the ruling of the Shulchan Aruch (206:3)

As is implicit in the above, there is never a requirement to wear a kippah per se. Any kind of hat or cap is just as good as a kippah. (To put it in terms of this week’s topic, a kippah isn’t per se a “ritual object” :) The question of when and under what circumstances a man should have his head covered (apart from when in prayer etc.) is an old and important one. Rabbi Ovadia Yosef (Yechaveh Da’at 4:1) and Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (IM, CM 1:93), both writing in the 20th century, agreed that head-covering / kippah wearing is a matter of pious custom rather than absolute law, yet both also agreed that men - as their default setting - should definitely cover their heads at all times. That said, Rabbi Feinstein (writing in the mid-20^th century US, as opposed to Rabbi Yosef who was writing in Israel) notes that it is permissible to accept a job despite that job requiring a person to not wear a kippah, as it not necessary to absorb a significant financial loss in order to fulfill a custom. Rabbi Feinstein adds that a person in this kind of job should pop his kippah back on in the breakroom, and then again immediately upon leaving the workplace. More contemporary writers have opined that nowadays we should be assertive about our legal right to wear a kippah in the workplace without discrimination.

I am of course aware of how fortunate I am to have never worked a day of my life not in a Jewish institution. So, I cannot (and will not) judge the assessment that some professionals have made that although technically they could wear a kippah at work, that doing so would in some way compromise the quality or integrity of their work. The only thing I guess I’d say is that we shouldn’t be any less frum (or proud) than our Muslim or Sikh professional colleagues are. Again, I’ve never been in the position, so I’d be happy to hear more.

Q: Should I feel ashamed of myself for almost never wearing my tefillin?

A: This is a holy question. A few thoughts, which may only be a beginning. 

The term that Jewish thought uses in describing the emotional reaction to failure, is “regret”. “Shame” is not part of the lexicon. The enormous difference between regret and shame is that regret has the great capacity to be productive, while shame - which is a form of turning on oneself emotionally - rarely does. Regret carries aspiration within it. It is the recognition that while yesterday might not have been so good, tomorrow could be much better.

I am wondering if you’d be open to letting go of some of the shame, and in the vacated space, make room for excitement. Tefillin is exceedingly important to me, and thank God, I have never missed a day. But it is sadly only very periodically that I feel the thrill and excitement that I felt when my father first handed me my tefillin before my bar mitzvah, or that I felt on those first mornings when, as a newly minted “man”, I tied the tefillin to my body. I envy the opportunity that you have to put on your tefillin as if for the first time. (And I’ll work on building my excitement back up as well.)

Rashbam read the Torah’s verses about tefillin not only literally, but also metaphorically. They present us with the daily opportunity to bind our strength, our emotional lives, and the power of our intellects to serving God in the best way we can.  If you can, trade in your shame for excitement. And let’s talk.