Saturday, June 22, 2013

Same old, same old / Pinchas

From 1979 to 1989, the CIA launched Operation Cyclone. They covertly channeled billions of dollars to the Afghan Mujahideen to mount a jihad against Soviet occupation. Ultimately, it contributed to the rise of Al-Qaeda. The CIA calls this “blowback,” a term coined by Peter Bergen in his book Al Qaeda Holy War Inc.

In the 1990s, the FAA wanted to mandate the use of child safety seats on airplanes to insure toddlers equal protection with adults in the case of a crash. However, airplane crashes are extremely rare and the higher cost of travel led many families to drive, rather than fly. A study conducted at the time estimated that an additional 13 to 42 children would die in traffic accidents over the next decade. This has been termed an example of Unforeseen Consequences, noted by 18th century Enlightenment philosopher Adam Smith.

In 1936, sociologist Robert K. Merton wrote an analysis of the term he popularized, “Unintended Consequences,” which result from purposeful acts intended to bring social change. (The paper was titled “The Unanticipated Consequences of Purposive Social Action.”)

It appears to me that this week’s parashah, Pinchas, includes what may be the earliest recorded example of unintended consequences. The census recorded in this week’s parashah is what we might expect — names and numbers — until we find women named in the accounting of the descendants of Manasseh:

Now Zelophehad son of Hepher had no sons, only daughters. The names of Zelophehad’s daughters were Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah. (Numbers 26:33)

Why are five women named in a census of men from the age of twenty years up, by their ancestral houses, all Israelite males able to bear arms (Numbers 25:19)? Perhaps the answer is that a highly significant story about their challenge to the laws of inheritance and property rights comes on the tail of the census, in chapter 27. The laws of land inheritance were designed to keep land within a clan and within a tribe. Women might marry outside the clan or tribe; hence they could not inherit. The land holdings of Zelophehad — itself ironic because the Israelites are still in the Wilderness and no one yet possesses land — will pass to his brothers and uncles, bypassing his daughters because Zelophehad does not have a son. The sisters protest.

The daughters of Zelophehad, of Manassite family — son of Hepher son of Gilead son of Machir son of Manasseh son of Joseph — came forward. The names of the daughters were Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah. They stood before Moses, Eleazar the priest, the chieftains, and the whole assembly, at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, and they said, “Our father died in the wilderness. He was not one of the faction, Korach’s faction that banded against Adonai, but died for his own sin and he has left no sons. Let not our father’s name be lost to his clan just because he had no son! Give us a holding among our father’s kinsmen!” (Numbers 27:1-4)

Now there’s an interesting challenge! Moses does not dismiss the women out of hand, or with a curt, “It’s God’s law. Weren’t you listening at Mt. Sinai?” Perhaps Moses recognizes the justice of their claim. It’s significant that they couch their request in terms of preserving their “father’s name” rather than their property rights. Moses brings their case before God, who responds:

The plea of Zelophehad’s daughters is just: you should give them a hereditary holding among their father’s kinsmen; transfer their father’s share to them. (Numbers 27:6)

The sisters’ successful challenge of traditional laws of inheritance is often lauded. As an example, The Torah: A Women’s Commentary enthusiastically tells us:

Five daring sisters — Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah, also known as Zelophehad’s daughters — loom large in this Torah portion… They brilliantly challenge the inheritance system (which has disenfranchised them) when they request a share in the land… In this episode these sisters succeed in securing a legacy for themselves, so that they, rather than their father’s male relatives, will inherit his portion. But they do even more than that, something unique and extraordinary: they initiate a Torah law, a legal precept that becomes a legacy for future generations because what they ask for themselves becomes a law sanctioned by God. (The Torah: A Women’s Commentary, p. 961)

I would love to read the text this way and celebrate this break through for women, but the final resolution of the issue in Numbers chapter 36 gives me great pause. In parshat Mas’ei, the last in the Book of Numbers) we find the Josephites objecting to the reform of inheritance laws:

The family heads in the clan of the descendants of Gilead son of Machir son of Manasseh, one of the Josephite clans, came forward and appealed to Moses and the chieftains, family heads of the Israelites. They said: “Adonai commanded my lord to assign the land to the Israelites as shares by lot, and my lord was further commanded by Adonai to assign the share of our kinsman Zelophehad to his daughters. Now if they marry persons of another Israelite tribe, their share will be cut off from our ancestral portion and be added to the portion of the tribe into which they marry; thus our allotted portion will be diminished.” So Moses, at Adonai’s bidding, instructed the Israelites saying, “The plea of the Josephite tribe is just (dovrim).” (Numbers 36:1-5)

It turns out that the “reformed” law of inheritance is disingenuous. In reality, Zelophehad’s ancestral holding is held by the daughters for a generation, assuming they marry within their own tribe — almost in escrow for the next generation — and then inherited by Zelophehad’s grandson, thus retaining the land holding for Zelophehad’s line.

Many years ago in college I took a Classics course and wrote a paper on women in Ancient Roman law. By the first century, a free Roman woman could manage her own finances, as well as own, inherit and sell property without the permission of her father or husband. A woman’s freedom in ancient Rome was far from equal to that of a man: women could not be party to a contract or make a will. But when they inherited property, it was truly theirs.

In the end, the daughters’ protest does not benefit women (except perhaps to keep them financially afloat until they can pass everything on to their sons), but rather tightens a man’s control on property by insuring that the land is inherited in his direct line, not by his brothers or uncles, even in the case where he does not father a son.

Reform hailed as progressive that turns out to be regressive seems to be a recurrent phenomenon. Prohibition was passed for good reasons, but the result was large-scale organized crime, and some 15,000 cases of hand and foot paralysis and many deaths from wood alcohol. So, too, the so-called “War on Drugs” has turned successful drug cartels into extraordinarily wealthy and frighteningly violent organizations.

Minimally, the change in Torah’s laws of land inheritance, so often hailed as progressive, is not. From a certain vantage point, it could be viewed as regressive, preventing a distribution of wealth even within a clan. Unintended consequences are serious indeed.

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

Monday, June 17, 2013

Of blessings, curses, and transplanted lungs / Balak

(NB: This drasha was written two weeks ago, before Sara Murnaghan's name was placed on the transplant list alongside adults waiting to receive lungs. Sara received lungs that were transplanted into her on June 12, 2013.)

Parshat Balak tells a pretty wild story: Balaam, a Moabite prophet hired by the Moabite king to curse Israel, is prevented from doing so by God, who uses a talking donkey to insure that Balaam cannot fulfill his mission, which originally God had enjoined him to reject and subsequently gave him permission to pursue, at least somewhat. Is your head spinning yet?

We all get caught up in the talking donkey, which is arguably the most intriguing animal in the Bible. But I have always wondered: Does Torah believe that Balaam has the power to curse Israel in such a way that Israel’s fortunes and future are determined, or even influenced, by his utterances? Given that Balaam’s intended curse is antithetical to God’s desire, how could his curse — or for that matter, his blessing — make a difference?

Upon meeting King Balak, Balaam tells him:

How can I damn whom God has not damned,

How doom when Adonai has not doomed? (Numbers 23:8)

It appears that the Torah believes Balaam to have life and death power, which is why God is so interested in telling him what he may, and may not, say.

As I write this, 10-year-old Sara Murnaghan survives only thanks to a respirator in Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia (affectionately known as CHOP).  She suffers from cystic fibrosis, an autosomal recessive genetic disorder that has so severely damaged her lungs that Sara cannot breath without the ventilator. She has been on a transplant list for 18 months. Well, sort of.

The Organ Procurement and Transplantation Network (OPTN), established by Congress in 1984, maintains the national waiting list. The United Network for Organ Sharing  (UNOS) is a non-profit organization that does the administrative work of the OPTN, determining who receives the drastically inadequate supply of lungs available for transplant in the United States — that is, for people 12 years old and up. Sara, you’ll recall, is 10. The system does not cover her.

In short, the two primary factors under consideration are how long the patient is expected to live without a transplant, and how long the patient is expected to live if given the transplant. Calculating these probabilities is not simple. Among the many factors are age, body mass, blood type, and geographic location, because in general the transplant must take place within two to four hours of removal from the donor. The new technique of “ex vivo” for assessing, storing, and reconditioning damaged lungs may extend this deadline considerably. A computer program makes the calculations according to the criteria and scoring people have devised, and patients are placed on a waiting list accordingly. The computer also makes the shidduch (match) when donor lungs become available. The computer program is, in a strange way, the purveyor of blessings and curses: its programming makes life and death decisions.

The current system was set into motion in 2005, replacing a previous first-come first-served system; it has significantly decreased mortality on the waiting list. (Here is an excellent explanation of how the system works.)  Many people poured countless hours into creating the current system, and we have reason to be grateful to them for the vast improvement they put in place in 2005. There is also good reason to re-examine the current criteria and formula for assigning donor lungs. There are 50 times as many people on the waiting list as there are lungs to transplant. Therefore, there is good reason to ask whether 12 years old is a medically sound, or somewhat arbitrary, cut-off. If a 10-year-old is large enough to accommodate adult size lungs (which no doubt come in a range of sizes, as do 10-year-olds), why exclude Sara from the waiting list? The claim has been made that there is insufficient data on children to include them in the program. The problem with that approach is that children are far more likely to be consigned to death if they don’t have a chance at the national supply of donor lungs. Moreover, perhaps the data is lacking because children so rarely receive lungs; we then have a vicious circle going. Certainly, we might say that living with cystic fibrosis is a curse. But we might also say that children under 12 are cursed in the pursuit of lungs for transplantation by the current system.

Sara secured a spot on the list on June 5th because her parents sued Health and Human Services, and a U.S. District Court Judge Michael Baylson ordered HHS Secretary Kathleen Sebelius to suspend the 12-year-old cutoff rule and include Sara on the list. Almost immediately, the mother of Javier Acosta initiated a lawsuit, as well. Javier is 11 years old; his older brother died of cystic fibrosis in 2009.

The system for determining who receives donor lungs will now be revisited, as it should be. Together with improved technology (and “ex vivo” research does indeed look promising) I hope and pray that many more children and adults will receive the transplants they so desperately need to live and enjoy the blessings of life.

As Balaam looked up and saw Israel encamped tribe by tribe, the spirit of God came upon him. Taking up his theme, he said…

How fair are your tents, O Jacob,

Your dwellings, O Israel!

Like palm-groves that stretch out,

Like gardens beside a river,

Like aloes planted by the Lord,

Like cedars beside the water… (Numbers 245-6)

May all those in need receive the supreme blessing of life-saving organs; may they stretch out like palm trees, aloes, and cedars beside the river, enjoying a full and meaningful life.

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Burn, baby, burn / Chukat

The ritual of the red heifer is confusing, self-contradictory, arcane, and downright bizarre. But this is far from a new or modern observation.

First: what is it all about? Torah instructs that a pure red heifer be sacrificed outside the Israelites’ encampment (and later outside the Temple) and burned completely to ashes. The ashes, when mixed with water are sprinkled on a person who is in a state of ritual impurity through contact with the dead, and is thereby purified — yet the priest is rendered ritual impure by making the sacrifice.
Midrash (Numbers Rabbah 19:8) records that Rabban Yochanan b. Zakkai, who lived through the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 C.E. (after which, there was never again the sacrifice of a red heifer), faced the sort of questions people ask today. I will interpolate comments throughout the midrash.
An idol worshiper asked Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai: “This ritual that you perform seems like witchcraft. You bring a cow, burn it, pound it, and take the ashes; then you sprinkle upon one who has become impure by contact with the dead two or three drops and say to him, ‘You are purified!’”
In a later age, Rashi comments that the other nations taunted Israel on account of this ritual, saying, “What in the world is this?” Nachmanides[1] adds to Rashi’s comment: “The reason the other nations heap scorn on Israel about this more than they do about any of the other sacrifices of expiation or of purification [Nachmanides has in mind the purification rituals after a woman gives birth] is because the animal is slaughtered outside the sacred enclosure. It therefore appears to have been offered in the open… to the goat demons (Leviticus 17:5,7). But the truth is that it is meant to transfer the spirit of uncleanness outside the encampment — so even though it is burned in the open, it is the same as the ‘pleasing odor’ of sacrifice being offered.” Where Rabban Yochanan fielded accusations of witchcraft, Nachmanides heard accusations of paganism. As I said, it’s a bizarre ritual.

The midrash continues with a conversation between Rabban Yochanan b. Zakkai and a pagan idolater who says that the red heifer is a silly ritual. Rabban Yochanan b. Zakkai compares the pagan exorcisms, which the idolater believes to be efficacious, with the ritual of the red heifer. This is really risky territory for him to enter:
He [Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai] said to him [the idolater]: “Has the spirit of madness ever entered you?” He [the idolater] said to him, “No.” “Have you ever seen a person into whom the spirit of madness has entered?” He [the idolater] said to him, “Yes.” He [Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai] said to him, “And what do you do for him?” He [the idolater] said to him, “We bring roots and burn them to smoke under him, and we sprinkle water on it and the spirit flees.” He [Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai] said to him, “Let your ears hear what comes out of your mouth! [In other words: “Listen to what you’re saying!”]This spirit is the spirit of impurity, as it is written, And I will also make the “prophets” and the unclean spirit vanish from the land [Zechariah 13:2]. Water of purification is sprinkled upon him and it flees.”
Is Rabban Yochanan b. Zakkai saying that Torah’s ritual is no different from the pagan’s ritual? It helps to pay closer attention to the verse from Zechariah that he quotes. He quotes only the second half because it mentions “unclean spirits,” which resonates with the idolater. The first half of the verse, which the midrash presumes the reader either knows or will look up, says: In that day, too — declares the Lord of Hosts — I will erase the very names of the idols from the land; they shall be uttered no more. In this way, the verse appears to affirm the rituals of the idolater, thereby convincing him of the legitimacy of the Red Heifer ashes, yet is entirely delegitimizes his practice!

Pretty impressive, no? Well, Rabban Yochanan’s students don’t buy his explanation: it’s a flimsy reed.

After he [the idolater] had left, his students said to him [Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai], “Our Master, you put him off with a reed, but what would you say to us?” He said to them, “I swear: The dead do not make one impure, and the water does not purify. Rather, the Holy One praised be God said, ‘It is a ritual law that I have enacted; it is a decree that I have decreed. You may not transgress My decrees, as it is written, This is the ritual law.’”
Rabban Yochanan explains to them that the law of the Red Heifer is a chok: it is a commandment that can neither be explained nor understood. But it must be obeyed.

Once there was a synagogue where they had an unusual tradition. As they recited the Amidah, they would begin facing east, and slowly turn 360 degrees counter clockwise, completing the Amidah facing east again. Visitors enquired about this tradition, but no one knew its origins. It had always been thus. There came a time when the synagogue needed renovation. Workmen came and began by stripping off the wallpaper. What did they find? They saw that long, long ago, before the time that everyone had printed prayerbooks, the words of the Amidah were written on the walls of the synagogue, near the ceiling, beginning to the left of the Holy Ark, and continuing all the way around.

Some rituals are clouded in mystery. The Red Heifer may well be one we never truly understand. Yet it does not brand all ritual silly, bizarre, and meaningless. Rituals capture a holy moment, or a holy event, and preserve them for us so that we can experience them again and again and again. Consider the Passover seder: through it we relive the experience and meaning of the Exodus and Redemption year after year. Consider lighting shabbat candles and making Havdalah: through them we are reminder that we delineate and mark holy time for it to be real in our lives.

The notion of a ritual shrouded in mystery, without reason or meaning, does not sit well with everyone. This, too, is not new. Our midrash includes a d’var acher, another explanation of the Red Heifer, more suited to one who finds the notion of unexplainable chok unpalatable and insufficient:

And why are all the sacrificial animals male, but this one is a female? Rabbi Aivu said, “This can be explained by a parable: The son of a handmaiden dirtied the king’s palace. The king said, ‘Let his mother come and wipe up the filth.’ So too, the Holy One, praised be God, said, ‘Let the cow come and atone for the incident of the Golden Calf.’

R. Aivu assures us that the Red Heifer is not a mysterious and inexplicable ritual; it is a riddle to unlock. The Red Heifer points to an event in our past: the Golden Calf. As the Golden Calf is a female idol, so the Red Heifer is a female sacrifice of the same species that is given to compensate for the sin of the Golden Calf.

As archaic, arcane, and bizarre as the Red Heifer ritual seems to us, R. Aivu’s explanation doesn’t make it more comfortable or enlightening to most Jews in the 21st century. Yet there is something about R. Aivu’s explanation that I appreciate, and it is this: R. Aivu lived in Babylonia in the third century C.E., long after the anyone had a clue about the ritual of the Red Heifer (if ever anyone did). Yet he felt free to make sense and meaning of it.

That is what we continue to do, studying our sacred texts to wrest from them new insights and meaning to live our lives better. This is what we do with our rituals and traditions. We invest them with new meanings to uplift, encourage, and inspire. The proliferation of Passover haggadot is an excellent example of the energy invested in this process. This is not to say that every tradition should be preserved and justified. There is a Demotivator poster that expresses it best: At the top is a picture of the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona. The caption below says: “Tradition: Just Because You’ve Always Done It That Way Doesn’t Mean It’s Not Incredibly Stupid.” But R. Aivu does open the door and invite us into the process, which has been ongoing for three millennia, and to which we continue to make wonderful contributions, not only for own spiritual benefit, but for future generations, as well.

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

[1] R. Moses b. Nachman of Gerondi, 1194-1270.

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Claims and flames / Korach

Just how many revolts, uprisings, and mutinies must Moses endure? This week’s parashah recounts the latest, the attempt by Korach and his minions to seize power.

Now Korach, son of Izhar son of Kahat son of Levi took himself along with Datan and Aviram sons of Eliav, and On son of Pelet — descendants of Reuven — to rise up against Moses, together with two hundred and fifty Israelites, chieftains of the community, chosen in the assembly, men of repute. They combined against Moses and Aaron and said to them, “You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the Lord’s congregation? (Numbers 16:1-4)

Those of us living in the United States tend to see revolution in a positive light. We conjure up visions of a grassroots uprising to protest injustice and swelling into a heroic fight for independence. In fact, it’s rarely that way. Even in America, it was the elite among the colonialists who instigated and fomented revolution against England; they had the most to gain.

So, too, the Israelites in the Wilderness. Korach and his followers are second-tier levites bruising for a fight to promote themselves. They find an opening in the claim that Moses and Aaron have elevated themselves above the community when, in fact, every member of the nation is holy. They use this provocative opening to defame Moses and Aaron. Korach has conflated two distinct ideas — authority and sanctity — in a way that flames the anger of his minions. Moses and Aaron are, indeed, vested with authority Korach does not have, but they have never claimed a higher level of sanctity than any other member of the nation.

And so it is often in our own institutions, be they community groups, political organizations, businesses, or religious institutions. So often the second tier bridles at following the dictates or policies of those in positions of authority, and find some offense or other — some claim that always looks kosher on the outside — and use it to flame the fires of dissent.

The Rabbis tell us in a marvelous midrash that the claim presented in Torah was only the beginning. As Wesley tells Vizzini in the Battle of Wits over iocane powder, “Truly, you have a dizzying intellect,” and as Vizzini retorts, “Wait till I get going!” — so Korach is only getting warmed up. (If you haven’t yet seen The Princess Bride, do so at once!)
Now Korach, son of Izhar son of Kahat son of Levi took himself (Numbers 15:38). Now Korach... took. What is written in the preceding passage? …Instruct them to make for themselves fringes on the corners of their garments throughout the ages; let them attach a cord of blue to the fringe at each corner (Numbers 15:38). [This is the commandment concerning tzitzit.] Korah jumped up [for his first challenge] and asked Moses: “If a cloak is entirely of blue, what is the law as regards its being exempted from the obligation of fringes?” Moses answered him: “It is [nonetheless] subject to the obligation of fringes.” Korah retorted: “A cloak that is entirely composed of blue cannot free itself from the obligation, yet the four blue threads do free it!”
[Taking up another challenge:] Korach said again, “If a house is full of Scriptural books, what is the law as regards its being exempt from the obligation of mezuzah?” [Torah says, you shall write them on the doorposts of your house, which the Rabbis interpreted to require a mezuzah with a passage from Torah to be posted on the doorpost of one’s house. In Korach’s scenario, the passage in the mezuzah is already contained in every copy of the Torah inside the house.] [Moses] answered [Korach]: “[The house is nonetheless] under the obligation of having a mezuzah.” [Korach retorted,] “The whole Torah, which contains two hundred and seventy-five sections, cannot exempt the house, yet the one section in the mezuzah exempts it! These are things which you have not been commanded, but you are inventing them out of your own mind!
Hence it is written, Korach… took… which can only signify discord, his heart having carried him away.
Korach’s questions are disingenuous. His intent is not to explore the halakhah on tzitzit and mezuzah, but to publicly challenge and oust Moses, claiming Moses’ authority for himself. Korach’s means for doing this has the patina of a legitimate halakhah question, just enough of a patina for people to listen.

Had Korach truly cared one iota about blue cloaks or the mezuzah scroll, he would have continued to engage Moses in conversation about the nuanced interpretations of each. He does not. He has stirred up trouble, and that’s enough.

Does this sound familiar to you? Have you seen this happen in the community and political groups, workplaces, or congregations in your life?

Pirke Avot famously says:
Every controversy that is in the name of heaven, in the end will result in something permanent, but one that is not in the name of heaven, in the end will result in something impermanent. What is [an example of] controversy that is in the name of heaven? Such is controversy between Hillel and Shammai. And what is [an example of] controversy that is not in the name of heaven? Such is the controversy of Korach and all his followers.  (Pirke Avot 5:17)
The Rabbis could not have chosen a better example than Korach to make their point. His challenge is insincere and merely a provocation.

The S’fat Emet (Rabbi Yehudah Leib Alter of Ger, 1847–1905) makes an interesting comment on the notion of hierarchies and levels that spin out of the techelet, the blue thread of the tzitzit:
It is said that, “the blue [of the fringe-thread] is like the sea, the sea is like the sky, and sky is like the Throne of Glory.”
The S’fat Emet goes on to connect these three levels — sea, sky, and Throne of Glory — with, respectively, the Exodus from Egypt, the Reed Sea, and the Receiving of the Torah at Mt Sinai. He then tells us:
These three also connect to the three gifts that Israel was given. The well is like the sea. [He refers here to the Well of Miriam that followed the Israelites through the Wilderness on account of Miriam’s merit.] The sky refers to the manna that came down because of Moses. The Clouds of Glory were by the merit of Aaron… [We might be surprised to find Aaron on a higher level than Moses. The S’fat Emet explains:] It is true that Moses’ rung is a high one. But Aaron, because he caused Israel to return in penitence, reached a still higher level. Therefore, he was given the innermost service of the Day of Atonement, equivalent to both teshuvah [repentence] and neshamah [soul]. Of this they said [here the S’fat Emet quotes R. Abbahu in B.Berakhot 34b]: “Penitents stand in a place where the wholly righteous cannot stand,” and also [and here he quote R. Levi from B.Yoma 86a], “great is teshuvah for it reaches the Throne of Glory.” That is why the Clouds of Glory were by Aaron’s merit.
The S’fat Emet is telling us that Korach and his minions seek the authority of Moses, because they believe it to be the highest run on the ladder of leadership and authority. But they are wrong. Aaron stands above Moses; he stands at the Throne of Glory, which is above even the sky. Why? Because Aaron brings people to teshuvah, which requires humility, acceptance of responsibility, and pursuit of reconciliation. Aaron is the peacemaker by tradition, as Pirke Avot teaches us:
Hillel and Shammai received the Torah from [Shemayah and Avtalion]. Hillel said: Be of the disciples of Aaron, loving peace and pursuing peace, loving your fellow creatures and bringing them close to the Torah. (Pirke Avot 1:10)
Hillel and Shammai both received Torah — and that acknowledgement is encapsulated in Hillel’s teaching that we are all to follow the example of Aaron and make peace. Peace is only reached through teshuvah. It need not be formal teshuvah, nor does it need to wait until Yom Kippur. What is needed to make peace — and stand at the highest peak: the Throne of Glory — is humility, acceptance of responsibility, and pursuit of reconciliation.

Korach failed. He failed miserably. But we don’t have to.

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman