Alt+SHIFT: In the Presence of the Present
Yitzchak Blau continues his Alt+SHIFT supplement series—that’s the keyboard shortcut allowing us quick transition between input languages on our keyboards. For many readers of TRADITION that’s the move from Hebrew to English (and back again). It offers a look into trends, ideas, and writings in the Israeli Religious Zionist world, helping readers from the Anglo sphere to gain insight into worthwhile material available only in Hebrew. See the archive of all past columns in this series.
Adina Sternberg, MeOhel Moed LeYemei Moed (Maggid & Matan), 501 pp.
Dr. Adina Sternberg’s new Hebrew book, whose English title is offered as In the Presence of the Present: Jewish Holidays from the Bible to Rabbinic Literature, is the first work to emerge from Matan’s Kitvuni Fellowship and it shows the worth of this initiative created to encourage women authors. Sternberg, a teacher at Matan, the Bar Ilan Midrasha, and Efrata College, offers analyses of the holidays and incorporates other interesting topics as well. Each chapter examines the relevant pesukim, the appropriate mishnayot (the work of Avie Walfish is quite influential here), the derashot of Hazal, and ends with finding some meaning for our day.
Sternberg demonstrates her affinity for complexity and weaving together multiple themes. One recurring set of themes is the agricultural and historical aspects of the hagim; Rambam and Sefer ha-Hinnukh’s rationales for the arba minim argue as to which category this mitzva belongs. Another duality involves religious life in the Temple and in the home with Hannuka candles possibly connecting to both locations. A different chapter addresses how we approach God as both children and servants.
Appreciation for complexity also applies to divine providence. In a chapter about rain as a symbol of divine favor or displeasure, Sternberg emphasizes that we cannot make an easy equation between the quantity of rainfall and our spiritual standing. A drought should inspire us to repent even as we know that an absence of rain need not be the product of sin.
As mentioned, Sternberg looks for existential meaning. The debate whether the sukkot in the desert were physical booths or clouds of glory is not just a historical question. The first position recalls the hardship of the journey while the second focuses on the wonders of divine aid. The balance between human effort and divine assistance is another duality appearing in multiple places.
[Sample the book’s Introduction and Chapter 1 on the difference between Shabbat and Yom Tov.]
The book covers some well-trodden questions such as the status of the fourteenth of Nissan as a separate holiday called “Pesach,” and whether the four species constitutes a type of sacrifice. Nonetheless, it makes novel contributions. Noting that the Gemara draws a parallel between the waving of the shtei ha-lehem and the shaking of the lulav (Sukka 37b), Sternberg suggests that each of the three pilgrimage festivals has a central sacrificial symbol. On Pesach, we offer the omer, on Shavuot the shtei ha-lehem, and on Sukkot the arba minim.
A chapter on tithes introduces a far ranging hiddush. Bikkurim are a symbolic gesture conveying our dependence on God as opposed to ma’aserot which are more of a business transaction expressing a partnership between us and the Almighty. Sternberg extends this idea further and applies this dichotomy to the difference between Kayin and Hevel’s sacrifices and to the distinction between the service of the first born and that of the Levites. Of course, all this connects to the human/divine duality referenced above.
Other highlights include showing how, despite the fact that months are always counted from Nissan, Tanakh clearly views Tishrei as the start of a new year (see Exodus 23:16, 34:22, and Leviticus 25:10). The two modes of counting reflect the divide between a historical calendar beginning with the Exodus and an agricultural calendar based on stages of the produce.
The final chapter takes on the thorny issue of women’s obligation in mitzvot. Sternberg does a commendable job of showing the shortcomings of standard explanations for the time-bound positive mitzvah exemption. Some suggest that women have other time commitments but how long does putting on tzitzit or shaking a lulav realistically impinge on those other duties? Others explain that women need less help to develop spiritually, but then why would they be obligated in prayer and not the recital of Shema?
I am unsure if our author’s explanation fares better. Sternberg states that the halakha tends to free women from public mitzvot but not from private ones (See the parallel approach of Saul Berman in TRADITION, Fall 1973). Both tefillin and tzitzit have a public displaying element. However, should we conclude that Shema involves more of a public show than prayer? Even if women receive an exemption from tefilla be-tzibbur, the distinction between the two commandments remains elusive.
In helping women (and men) come to terms with these exemptions, Sternberg offers the possibility of stressing the great value of voluntary efforts; women can choose to practice shofar, lulav, and sukka. There is something to be said for a woman authoring this chapter given that it is about her religious experience. With MeOhel Moed LeYemei Moed, Matan’s Kitvuni initiative has gotten off to an impressive start and we await the forthcoming volumes from the pens of our community’s leading female Torah scholars.
Yitzchak Blau, Rosh Yeshivat Orayta in Jerusalem’s Old City, is an Associate Editor of TRADITION.