Gearing Up for PURIM…

Ten Purim Facts

1) Although there are 5 Megilos, Chazal (Bavli & Yerushalmi) refer to, only Megillas Esther as a Megillah. They never refer to the other 4 as a Megillah.

2) There is a Machlokes if banging at Haman is for children only (Maharil) or for adults as well (Chacham Tzvi)

3) Minhag Lita is to bang only where Haman and his father are mentioned. (Haman ben Hamdasa)

4) According to Kabbalah, you should bang only with your feet.

5) According to the Targum Sheini, The 50 Amos pole, they hung Haman on,  came from Noach’s Teivah.

6) The name of the horse Mordechai rode on, was שפרגז “spare gas” (Targum Sheini)

7) The Mateh Moishe writes the reason Chazal said Chayav -L’Besuma because drunk people are loose with their money and will give more to the poor.

8) According to the Tur  a Chosson should not attend Shul for Megillah. He should have ten people come to the house to Lein Megillah.

9) The Seder Hadoros writes: When R. Yehudah Halevi wrote the Piyut “Adon Chasdecha” ** the Ibn Ezra added a Stanza at the letter Reish. R.Y.Halevi was so impressed, he gave him his daughter for marriage. Hence two stanzas for the letter Reish.

10) The Shu”t Dvar Shmuel (193) criticizes strongly the printers of Meseches Purim***. He claims it is Chilul Hatorah to imitate the Gemoro and turn it into a song and comedy.

**Sefardim say it on Parshas Zachor

*** written 700 years ago and printed  in the year 1513

From Toras Aba, here.

ולא תונו איש את עמיתו: עם שאתך בתורה ובמצות אל תונהו

מאיר גרין: כי אני יהודי

מילים:

רק בנו בחר לעם סגולה מכל העמים,
בכל אחד ואחד מאיתנו בוערת אמונה מבפנים ,
לאן שלא אלך זה מלווה אותי ביום ובלילה,
ואהבת ישראל תנצח אהבה שלא די לה

כי אני יהודי כולם אחים שלי פה
וכשאני לעצמי אנל’א מוצא ת’אור
כל מה שיביאו לי כל מה שיגידו לי כלום לא יעזור
כי אני יהודי, רק איתכם אני רוצה, רק איתכם אני מוצא, אור.

זה זמן גאולה נצעק בתפילה קדימה אחים,
שיום יבוא יבוא וכל אחד מאיתנו יגלה את האור מבפנים,
אז בא לכאן אחי כן רק תלך איתי ונעלה עד למעלה,
אהבת ישראל תנצח אהבה שלא די לה

כי אני יהודי כולם אחים שלי פה,
וכשאני לעצמי אנל’א מוצא ת’אור,
כל מה שיביאו לי כל מה שיגידו לי כלום לא יעזור,
כי אני יהודי רק איתכם אני רוצה רק איתכם אני מוצא אור.

ניתן למצוא את הסרטון המקורי כאן ביוטיוב.

Reproduced with permission.

CHASSIDIC Requiems for Chassidus…

THE TISCH: THE END OF HASSIDISM?

A cursory glance reveals that the fascination with hassidic lore continues to animate many of our contemporary communities.

BY LEVI COOPER
 SEPTEMBER 24, 2010

While the legacy of the Ba’al Shem Tov and Hassidism lives on in our day, there were some thinkers who surmised that the innovations of Hassidism were timebound, rather than eternal values. They felt that the message and contribution of Hassidism was to last for a limited time and then fade. It would not be surprising to hear mitnagdim, the staunch opponents to Hassidism, say the movement had passed its prime. But remarkably, this idea came from the midst of the hassidic camp and in fact was voiced by those who served in prominent leadership roles within the hassidic community.

In a letter penned at the end of 1866, Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Schneersohn (1830-1900), the newly appointed rebbe of Kapust (Kopys, today in Belarus), wrote: “From the days of the revelation to this world of our master the Ba’al Shem Tov… until this time… it has been 150 years that the river has flowed out of Eden and entered the garden… and now it has ceased. And we must live as uncultivated aftergrowths; woe to us that in our day it has ceased… How can we live in the redoubled darkness in the final throes of the messianic era…?” Rabbi Shlomo Zalman of Kapust lamented that the inspiration of the Ba’al Shem Tov – the river that flowed from Eden – no longer was a lifegiving source. He wrote these words to the Kapust Hassidim after the demise of his father, Rabbi Yehuda Leib (1811-1866), the founding rebbe in Kapust. This heartbreak came only months after the passing of Rabbi Yehuda Leib’s father, the Tzemah Tzedek, Rabbi Menahem Mendel Schneersohn of Lubavitch (1789-1866). As Rabbi Shlomo Zalman accepted the mantle of leadership of the Kapust Hassidim in the wake of these tragedies, it must have appeared to him that indeed the hassidic life-force was no more.

A CONTEMPORARY but slightly different tradition is reported in the name of the Galician hassidic master, Rabbi Haim Halberstam of Sanz (1793–1876), known by the title of his work, Divrei Haim (“The Words of Haim”). He too asserted that no religious innovation could last longer than 150 years; even that of the Ba’al Shem Tov.

Once, when he was in Tarnow for Shabbat, surrounded by hundreds of loyal hassidim, he declared: “The time has come to return the crown to its former place,” and he continued with the following parable: “There was once a person who had a new garment. After a year or two the color of the garment had faded, so the person gave the garment to the tailor and asked him to turn it inside out so that it would look like a new garment. A year or two later the garment was once again faded.

The owner of the garment said to himself: ‘What am I to do? Since both the inside and the outside are faded, I may as well turn it back to the original way it was made.’” RABBI HAIM of Sanz unpacked the parable: “Thus it is [with Hassidism] – the Ba’al Shem Tov saw that in his day the path of Torah and fear of heaven had deteriorated; there was an assortment of obstacles and stumbling blocks along the path, such as conceit, self-interest and insincerity. Therefore, [the Ba’al Shem Tov] paved the path of Hassidism, with service [of God] and piety. Now that this path, too, has deteriorated, it would be better to return to the original path of Torah and fear of heaven.”

A third such statement is attributed to Rabbi Shalom Rokeah of Belz (1781-1855), known as the Sar Shalom (Prince of Peace). The Sar Shalom reportedly declared before his death that he was the last of the hassidic masters who was permitted to perform miracles and act as the Ba’al Shem Tov had acted.

Despite the claims that the glow of the inspiration from the early hassidic masters has dimmed, that the cloak of Hassidism was in tatters, that the miraculous powers of the Ba’al Shem Tov were no more, common experience would seem to defy this analysis. Indeed, one might say the opposite is true: A cursory glance reveals that the fascination with hassidic lore, the melody of hassidic song and the interest in hassidic ideas continue to animate many of our contemporary communities.

The writer is on the faculty of Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies and is a rabbi in Tzur Hadassah.

From JPost, here.

Do Briskers Understand ANYTHING?!

Richard Feynman Creates a Simple Method for Telling Science From Pseudoscience (1966)

How can we know whether a claim someone makes is scientific or not? The question is of the utmost consequence, as we are surrounded on all sides by claims that sound credible, that use the language of science—and often do so in attempts to refute scientific consensus. As we’ve seen in the case of the anti-vaccine crusade, falling victim to pseudoscientific arguments can have dire effects. So how can ordinary people, ordinary parents, and ordinary citizens evaluate such arguments?

The problem of demarcation, or what is and what is not science, has occupied philosophers for some time, and the most famous answer comes from philosopher of science Karl Popper, who proposed his theory of “falsifiability” in 1963. According to Popper, an idea is scientific if it can conceivably be proven wrong. Although Popper’s strict definition of science has had its uses over the years, it has also come in for its share of criticism, since so much accepted science was falsified in its day (Newton’s gravitational theory, Bohr’s theory of the atom), and so much current theoretical science cannot be falsified (string theory, for example). Whatever the case, the problem for lay people remains. If a scientific theory is beyond our comprehension, it’s unlikely we’ll be able to see how it might be disproven.

Physicist and science communicator Richard Feynman came up with another criterion, one that applies directly to the non-scientist likely to be bamboozled by fancy terminology that sounds scientific. Simon Oxenham at Big Think points to the example of Deepak Chopra, who is “infamous for making profound sounding yet entirely meaningless statements by abusing scientific language.” (What Daniel Dennet calls “deepities.”) As a balm against such statements, Oxenham refers us to a speech Feynman gave in 1966 to a meeting of the National Science Teachers Association. Rather than asking lay people to confront scientific-sounding claims on their own terms, Feynman would have us translate them into ordinary language, thereby assuring that what the claim asserts is a logical concept, rather than just a collection of jargon.

The example Feynman gives comes from the most rudimentary source, a “first grade science textbook” which “begins in an unfortunate manner to teach science”: it shows its student a picture of a “windable toy dog,” then a picture of a real dog, then a motorbike. In each case, the student is asked “What makes it move?” The answer, Feynman tells us “was in the teacher’s edition of the book… ‘energy makes it move.’” Few students would have intuited such an abstract concept unless they had previously learned the word, which is all the lesson teaches them. The answer, Feynman points out, might as well have been “’God makes it move,’ or ‘Spirit makes it move,’ or, ‘Movability makes it move.’”

Instead, a good science lesson “should think about what an ordinary human being would answer.” Engaging with the concept of energy in ordinary language enables the student to explain it, and this, Feynman says, constitutes a test for “whether you have taught an idea or you have only taught a definition. Test it this way”:

Without using the new word which you have just learned, try to rephrase what you have just learned in your own language. Without using the word “energy,” tell me what you know now about the dog’s motion.

Feynman’s insistence on ordinary language recalls the statement attributed to Einstein about not really understanding something unless you can explain it to your grandmother. The method, Feynman says, guards against learning “a mystic formula for answering questions,” and Oxenham describes it as “a valuable way of testing ourselves on whether we have really learned something, or whether we just think we have learned something.”

It is equally useful for testing the claims of others. If someone cannot explain something in plain English, then we should question whether they really do themselves understand what they profess…. In the words of Feynman, “It is possible to follow form and call it science, but that is pseudoscience.”

Does Feynman’s ordinary language test solve the demarcation problem? No, but if we use it as a guide when confronted with plausible-sounding claims couched in scientific-sounding verbiage, it can help us either get clarity or suss out total nonsense. And if anyone would know how scientists can explain complicated ideas in plainly accessible ways, Feynman would.

via Big Think

From Open Culture, here.