Responsa

CARR 250-252

CCAR RESPONSA

Contemporary American Reform Responsa

167. A Rabbi at a Christian Ordination

Service

QUESTION: Should a rabbi participate in the service of

ordination of a student as a Christian minister? Would it be possible for him to participate in one

of the three following ways – attending the ordination; reading a Biblical selection; invoking the

priestly blessing on the candidate? (Rabbi J. Stein, Indianapolis, IN)ANSWER: This

question involves the Jewish attitude towards Christians and Christianity. Since Medieval times

Christianity and Islam were viewed as monotheistic religions. Therefore, none of the strictures

which the Bible and Talmud place upon idolatry are relevant for

Christianity. The Talmud began to consider pagans of its day differently from

the ancient heathen; it treated Christians similarly. The precise attitude toward Gentiles during

the five centuries of Talmudic times depended upon specific circumstances. Thus, Simeon ben

Yohai could be uncomfortably negative (J. Kid. 66c, with full reading in Tosfot to A. Z.

26b; Soferim 15.10). On the other hand, it was possible for Meir and Judah Hanasi to have warm

friendly relationships with Gentiles (B. K. 38a). We comfort their dead, visit their sick, help their

poor, etc. (Git. 29b; Tur Hoshen Mishpat 266). R. Hiya bar Abba said in the name of R.

Johanan that Gentiles outside the land of Israel were not idolaters. They merely continued to

follow the customs of their fathers (Hul. 13b). By the Middle Ages, Christians were

generally no longer classified as idolaters (Meir of Rothenburg, Responsa #386). Rabbi

Isaac of Dampierre placed Christians in the category of Noachides and not of pagans (Tosfot

to San. 73b and Bek. 2b). Menachem Meiri (1249-1306) went further by stating that

Christians and Moslems who live by the discipline of their religion should be regarded as Jews in

social and economic relationships (Bet Habehirah to A. Z. 20a). Maimonides stated that

Christians or Muslims should be considered as gerei toshav. They would assist in the

preparation for the Messianic era (Yad Melakhim 8.11 and Teshuvah 3.5; Edut. 11.10,

etc.). At other times he considered Christianity as a form of idol worship (Yad Hil. Avodat

Kokhavim 9.4; Hil. Akum 10.2; Hil. Maakhalot Asurot), although he, too, had some positive

thoughts about Christianity (Yad Hil . Melakhim 11.4). Of course Maimonides dealt with

Christianity in the abstract in contrast to the other authorities who lived in a Christian world. A

French Tosafist of the same period expressed positive views akin to Meiri, and so we see that

they were not restricted to Sephardic Jewry (Bekh. 2b). This point of view became normative,

and Christians as well as Muslims were considered in the same category as the gerei

toshav. This point of view was accepted by Caro in the Shulhan Arukh (Yoreh Deah

148.12; also Tur Yoreh Deah 148) and most forcefully by Mosheh Rifkes, author of the

Beer Hagolah to the Shulhan Arukh (Hoshen Mishpat, 425 at the end). The

statement is remarkable because the author himself had fled Vilna to Amsterdam from anti-

Jewish riots. He stated: “The sages made reference only to the idolaters of their day who did not

believe in the creation of the world, the Exodus, God’s marvelous deeds, or the divinely given

law. But these people, among whom we are scattered, believe in all these essentials of religion.

So, it is our duty to pray for their welfare, and that of their kingdom, etc.” The status of the

Gentile in the general application of Jewish law had, therefore, changed and this positive opinion

of Gentiles was reemphasized at the beginning of the modern era by Emden, Bacharach,

Ashkenazi and other Orthodox authorities (See A. Shohet, “The German Jew, His Integration

Within Their Non-Jewish Environment in the First Half of the Eighteenth Century,” Zion,

Vol. 21, 1956, pp. 229 ff) as well as Mendelssohn (“Schreiben an Lavater,” Schriften,

1843, Vol. 3, pp. 39 ff). The classification of Christians as gerei toshav

had theological implications and important economic consequences. For example, wine made by

a Gentile was permitted to be handled by Ashkenazic Jews. Although it could not be consumed

by Jews, they could trade in it (Tosfot to San. 63b; Isserles to Shulhan Arukh

Yoreh Deah 123.1). Sephardic Jews did not follow this practice and had no pressing need to do

so, as they were not involved in extensive wine growing and lived among Moslems, whose

consumption of wine was limited (Maimonides, Responsa II, #448; Tur Yoreh

Deah 124). Despite these friendly views, all of the traditional authorities made it quite

clear that major distinctions continue to exist between Judaism and Christianity. Maimonides felt

that we should restrict our relationships with Christians (Yad Hil. Akum 10.2) and also

prohibited Jews from dealing in Christian wine (Yad Maakhalot Asurot 17). He and all the

other medieval authorities thought that both Christianity and Islam had strange concepts

(shituf) which impinged on the absolute unity of God (Isserles to Shulhan Arukh

Orah Hayim 156; Maimonides, Peer Hador 50, etc.). In secular relationships Christians

could be treated as b’nei noah, but in religious matters, distinctions were to

remain. The factors outlined above have provided a Jewish basis for good Jewish-

Christian relationships in the last centuries. They have enabled us to participate in many joint

social and charitable programs. Reform Jewish thought goes one step further and permits

participation in interfaith services which remain neutral and are non-Christological. They would

also permit us to participate in a strictly Christian service when it is clear that our participation is

limited to matters which are not offensive to us. This means that it would be possible to read a

Biblical portion at an ordinary service or a service of installation for a minister in a new

congregation, or at any other service as a gesture of friendship. This emphasizes our common

bonds. Additional participation at a service of ordination would be inappropriate, as

such a service is by its very nature very specifically Christian. Such services usually emphasize

creed and the loyalty of the minister to that creed. This emphasis on shituf would be

inappropriate for us. In our age of extensive friendship, it is important that ties be continued and

fostered, yet distinctions should not be blurred.December 1980

If needed, please consult Abbreviations used in CCAR Responsa.

ARR 379-380

CCAR RESPONSA

American Reform Responsa

**119. Titles on a Kaddish List**

(1979)QUESTION: Is it permissible to include titles for individuals listed on the weekly Kaddish list read at the Shabbat service? (Rabbi Stephen Pinsky, Temple Sinai of Bergen County, Tenafly, New Jersey)ANSWER: The origin of reading names of deceased individuals at services seems to lie in the period immediately following the Crusades. The martyrs of that dreaded period in the Rhineland were memorialized on the anniversary date of their death by the entire community. Subsequently, similar memorial lists were created for the Black Death, as well as other tragedies in the Rhineland and neighboring communities. In addition, it became customary to remember those who had been generous to the synagogue, especially during the concluding day of the Shalosh Regalim, as the reading from Deuteronomy 16:17 stated, “Everyone shall give in accordance with the gift of his hand.” Solomon B. Freehof, in his article on “Hazkarat Neshamot” (Hebrew Union College Annual, vol. 36, 1965) has theorized, along with others, that the custom of praising those individuals on the festival soon spread to the Shabbat with the saying of a “Mi Sheberach” when some member of the family, yet alive, was called to the Torah. Isserles has noted a custom similar to this in Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chayim 284.6): “It is customary, after the reading of the Torah, to mention those who have departed and to bless those who support the congregation.” Here we do not have lists, but individuals arranging to have the names of dear departed read. After a while, the custom became oppressive, especially as a “Mi Sheberach” was recited for each individual and the list could be long. This has been discussed by Ephraim Margolis in Sha-ar Efrayim, and also by Samuel Lipschitz, in his commentary Sha-arei Rachamim. The Reform Movement has moved the reading of the names of deceased members from the Torah service to the conclusion of the service when our mourner’s Kaddish is recited. None of these discussions deals with titles of individuals, nor does Gruenwald’s Kol Bo Al Avelut. We must, therefore, treat this subject by analogy with customs connected with the tombstone. In past centuries, tombstones were often very elaborate, and virtually an entire eulogy was inscribed on them. For example, the tombstone of Meir of Rothenburg reported all the details of his capture by bandits, who then turned him over to King Rudolf, who imprisoned him while seeking ransom from the Jewish community; and of his eventual death in prison, as well as of the ransom paid for his body by a pious follower. Other tombstones listed all the accomplishments or offices held by individuals. By contrast, nowadays our tombstones rarely do more than provide the name of the deceased, dates of birth and death, and perhaps a verse which suitably characterizes his or her life. In other words, our period has become democratic and rather reticent about excessive use of praise or titles. That mood is probably appropriate for the memorial lists of the congregation. On the other hand, if a strongly fixed local tradition of reading names with titles exists, it would be proper to continue it.Walter Jacob

If needed, please consult Abbreviations used in CCAR Responsa.

TFN no.5753.5 321-326

CCAR RESPONSA

On the Redemption of Captives

5753.5

She’elah

What does Jewish tradition teach us concerning the ransom of captives? Specifically, both Maimonides (Yad, Hilkhot Matanot Aniyim 8:10) and the Shulchan Arukh (YD 252:3) indicate that we must pay the ransom and negotiate with those who take hostages. What can we learn from these teachings that might help us shape an appropriate response to those who would kidnap Jews for any purpose? (Rabbi Douglas E. Krantz, Armonk, NY).

Teshuvah

Jewish tradition indeed speaks directly to this issue which is, regrettably, of more than theoretical interest to the Jewish community, whether in Israel or elsewhere.

The Talmud refers to the redemption of captives (pidyon shevuyim) as a high obligation, greater even than that of tzedakah.¹ Maimonides, in the passage cited above, expresses the Talmudic law as follows: “The redemption of captives takes precedence over supporting the poor…One who ignores the responsibility to redeem the captive violates the following negative commandments: `do not harden your heart and do not shut your hand (from your brother in need)’ (Deut. 15:7); `do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor’ (Lev. 19:16); `he (the master) shall not rule rigorously over him (the indentured servant)’ (Lev. 25:33). He similarly annuls a number of positive commandments: `you shall surely open your hand to him’ (Deut. 15:8); `your brother shall live with you’ (Lev. 25:36); `you shall love your neighbor as yourself’ (Lev. 19:18)… There is no mitzvah as great as the redemption of captives.” The Shulchan Arukh notes: “each instant that one fails to redeem captives when it is possible to do so, it is as though one has shed blood.”²

Yet despite its exalted status, this obligation is not without limits. The Mishnah³ instructs that we are not to redeem captives “for more than their monetary value” (yoter al kedey demeyhen)⁴ on account of “the welfare of society” (mipney tikun ha-olam). What could “welfare” mean in this context? The Talmud⁵ offers two explanations: payment of exorbitant ransoms might bankrupt the community; alternately, the knowledge that the Jews will pay dearly to redeem their captives might tempt would-be kidnappers to seize more Jewish hostages.

There is a significant halakhic difference between these two explanations. Should we conclude that ransoms are limited due to the crushing burden they impose upon community treasuries, then there would be no restriction imposed upon the amount that wealthy individuals may pay out of their own funds to redeem their relatives. On the other hand, should we adopt the second theory, concern that high ransom payments encourage further kidnappings, then even the wealthy would be prohibited from paying more than the limit set by the Mishnah.⁶

The Talmud does not resolve this issue, and the halakhic authorities are in dispute. The Rambam declares that ransoms are limited in order to discourage future kidnappings.⁷ R. Asher ben Yechiel,⁸ by contrast, rules that a private individual may exceed the ransom limit in order to redeem himself, his wife,⁹ or a Torah scholar.¹⁰ Others expand the permit, allowing an individual to redeem any family member at any price.¹¹ Such lenient rulings would imply that the limitation was instituted to safeguard the public treasury. The Shulchan Arukh strikes a balance between these alternatives: it simultaneously accepts Rambam’s explanation for the ransom limitation and R. Asher’s exceptions to the rule.¹²

While some, if not all, of these authorities permit individuals to exceed the Mishnah’s limitation upon ransom payments, none of them allows the community to do so. This distinction between the private and the public realms is eminently reasonable. The primary ethical responsibility of individuals, when confronting the captivity of loved ones, is to the captives themselves; that duty may be said to take precedence over their responsibilities toward society at large.¹³ Governments, meanwhile, may not set such priorities; they are charged with the protection of the entire community. As such, they are forbidden to yield to the extortionate sums demanded by the kidnappers, for to do so would encourage future attempts at hostage-taking and thereby expose the rest of their citizens to danger.

The government of Israel, in its dealings with hostage-takers, wrestles with the very dynamic described in the rabbinic sources. Though the question may not involve the “monetary value” of captives, it does go to the issue of price: at what point do the demands of the kidnappers become “unreasonable”, so that the government, which is ultimately responsible for the security of the people as a whole, must refuse to give in to them? In return for prisoners of war or civilian hostages, captors will set an exorbitant price, often the release of hundreds of imprisoned terrorists or criminals for each liberated Israeli. To yield to this demand might well entice other potential kidnappers to seize captives in the future; the freed prisoners, in addition, would pose a serious security risk to the Israeli public. The government may regard this price as excessive and, faced with a choice between the lives and freedom of its captive citizens and the safety of its population as a whole, refuse to pay it. Difficult as this decision must be, it is well in keeping with the Jewish legal tradition which, in the name of tikun ha-olam, sets limits on what communities may pay to redeem their captives.

Still, a case can be made for the opposing view, that no demand is too excessive or unreasonable when the lives of the captives are at stake. Some authorities rule that the limits imposed upon ransom payments apply only when the captors are interested solely in money. When they threaten to kill their hostages, however, the commandment to save life (pikuach nefesh) takes precedence over all else. While others disagree,¹⁴ this theory has been adopted by a leading contemporary halakhist, R. Ovadiah Yosef,¹⁵ who argues that in such instances the clear and present danger (vadai sakanah) to the lives of the hostages outweighs the potential danger (safek sakanah) to the rest of the population should the ransom be paid. On this basis Yosef concludes that Israel ought to pay the price, whatever it may be, which terrorists demand for the release of its captive citizens.

His opinion, however, is subject to a number of criticisms. First, it is by no means clear under Jewish law that individuals or societies are required (or even permitted) to subject themselves to safek sakanah in order to rescue those in vadai sakanah.¹⁶

Second, it is arguable that the danger posed to society by the payment of exorbitant ransoms, while not as direct as that to the hostages, is no less “certain”.¹⁷

Third, R. Yosef bases his argument in part upon his claim that by giving in to terrorist demands we do not thereby invite further intimidation, since the terrorists are committed to a campaign of violence and murder against Israel and its people whether we give in to their demands or not. He may be right; still, much political and strategic thinking disputes him, holding that surrender to the demands of hostage-takers doesencourage future acts of violence.

Fourth, R. Yosef does not consider the fact that Israel is a sovereign nation in a state of war with its neighbors. Since its enemies have shown themselves willing to pursue this war against its civilian population, it is not unreasonable for Israel to regard all its citizens as soldiers in the conflict. If soldiers are called upon to risk their lives in defense of the nation, Israel’s civilian hostages may be said to share that duty. R. Yosef’s ruling is, to be sure, a compassionate one; he would place the safe return of hostages in the first rank of Israeli security priorities. In so doing, however, he would tie the hands of Israel’s civilian and military leaders who must somehow, in painful dilemmas such as these, strike an acceptable balance between the lives of the hostages and the welfare of an entire nation.

This balance, we think, can be established solely on a case-by-case basis. In any hostage situation, the government must determine whether and to what extent payment of the ransom demanded by the kidnappers would threaten the safety of the rest of the population. In some situations the government will decide that to pay the ransom is the lesser of two evils, that to obtain the freedom of its captives justifies whatever danger the public may face at some later date.¹⁸ In others, it will conclude that the price is too high. In each case, the decision must reflect, on the strength of careful consultation with military, diplomatic, and political experts, the best available judgement as to the likely results of either course of action.¹⁹

This is no guarantee that mistakes will not be made; experts, like the rest of us, can be wrong. It is, however, the surest means by which the government of Israel (and indeed, any government or communal authority) can hope to discharge its ethical responsibilities to its people against the backdrop of one of the harshest realities of our time.

Notes

BT. Baba Batra 8a-b. Yore De`ah 252:3. The source is Resp. R. Yosef Kolon (Maharik, 15th-cent. Italy), # 7. Gitin 4:6. How to determine the “monetary value” of captives is a subject of some dispute. Some (Chidushey ha-Ritba, BT. Gittin 45a) set the amount according to the price the individual would fetch on the slave market (or the estimated price, should slavery no longer be in practice; Resp. Maharam Lublin, # 15). Others (Resp. R. David ibn Zimra Ha-Chadashot, # 40) measure the ransom price against that which is normally paid to kidnappers. Still others (R. Menachem Ha-Meiri, Beit Ha-Bechirah, BT. Ketubot 52b) set the price according to the captive’s social status. BT. Gittin 45a. Rashi, BT. Gittin 45a, s.v. o’ dilma. Yad, Hilkhot Matanot Aniyim 8:12. Alfasi, BT. Ketubot 52b (fol. 19a), rules that a husband may not redeem his captive wife “for more than her monetary value.” This suggests that Alfasi, too, accepts the reasoning that the limits are set in order to discourage future kidnappings and that even a private individual may not exceed those restrictions; see Rabbeinu Nissim ad loc., as well as Chiddushey Ha- Rashba, Gittin 45a. This position is adopted as well by the Gaon of Vilna (Bi’ur Ha-Gra, YD 252, # 6). Gittin 4:44, following Tosafot, Gittin 45a, s.v. dela. See also R. Asher to M. Ketubot 5:22, in the name of R. Meir Halevy Abulafia. See BT. Ketubot 52a-b. See BT. Gittin 58a, where R. Yehoshua pays a high price to redeem a child from captivity, because he realizes that the child is learned and will one day become a great halakhic sage. “How much the more so,” says R. Asher, “does this apply to one who is already a talmid chakham.” See R. Yoel Sirkes, Bayit Chadash to Tur, YD 252, who notes that such is common practice “to which no one objects”, and R. Shabtai Cohen, Siftey Kohen, YD 252, # 4. YD 252:4. In EH 78:2, we read: “the husband is not obligated to redeem his wife at a price greater than her monetary value…”. This suggests that he may do so if he wishes. A similar order of priorities is established with regard to the giving of tzedakah. See BT Baba Metsi`a 71a (on Ex. 22:24); Yad, Hilkhot Matanot Aniyim 7:13; SA YD 251:3. See the responsa cited in Pitchey Teshuvah, YD 252, # 4. In Torah She-be`al Peh 19 (1977), 9-39. See, in general, Journal of Reform Judaism 36 (Winter, 1989), 53-65, and the sources cited there. R. Yosef may have the better argument on this point, yet given the long-standing dispute over the issue, it is a shaky halakhic foundation upon which to advocate that Israel cave in to extortionate ransom demands. R. Ezekiel Katzenellenbogen, Resp. Kenesset Yechezkel, # 38. And, contrary to popular impression, Israel has never adhered to a “no negotiations–ever” policy with respect to hostages. Its recent willingness to deal for the release of Western captives in Beirut and (thus far unsuccessfully) for its pilot Ron Arad, held by the Hezbollah in Lebanon, are cases in point. This is essentially the position taken by a number of contemporary authorities. See R. Shaul Yisraeli in Torah She-be`al Peh 17 (1975), pp, 69-76, R. Yehudah Gershuni in Ha-Darom (1971), pp. 27-37, and our colleague R. Moshe Zemer in Ha’Aretz, December 13, 1983.

If needed, please consult Abbreviations used in CCAR Responsa.

ARR 380-383

CCAR RESPONSA

American Reform Responsa

120. Standing During Recital of Kaddish

(Vol. XXIV, 1914, pp. 152-153)

The question of the propriety of standing during the recital of the mourner’s Kaddish must be answered from the viewpoint of the Kaddish in general. The mourner’s Kaddish had its origin in early Talmudic, if not pre-Talmudic times, as can be seen in the Testament of Abraham, Version A, XIV (see Jewish Encyclopedia, s.v. “Kaddish”), according to which Abraham is the author of the Kaddish Yatom (cf. also Tobit IV:17, and my Toledot Ha-ikarim I, 80). But this was only in connection with the Birkat Avelim in the first week of mourning (Soferim XIX.12: “Umotse sham ha-avelim…ve-omer aleihem beracha, ve-achar kach omer Kaddish”). The Kaddish of the mourner during the first year is a late institution, first introduced about the 12th century in Germany, and from all that I can see, the mourner was regarded as the substitute for the Chazan.

Now there is a controversy whether the congregation should rise for every Kaddish or only for special ones. (Cf. Rambam, Yad, Hil. Tefila IX.1,5,8; Sh.A., Orach Chayim, Hil. Berachot 53.1; Turei Zahav, 1 and 56; 1 Haggah, and Magen Avraham 4). This controversy has never been authoritatively decided, and the minhag varies according to the countries and congregations (in Poland the congregation remains seated; in Bohemia it rises). But there is no doubt that the Chazan should always recite the Kaddish standing. Consequently, the mourner, who is considered the substitute of the Chazan, should also stand. In some congregations, only one of the mourners (according to the established order of precedence) is admitted to the front row to recite the Kaddish aloud, while the rest of the mourners repeat silently or in a low voice. In our Reform congregations, where the rabbi recites the Kaddish and the mourners repeat silently, none of them evidently can be considered a substitute for the Chazan. Nevertheless, it is evident that the old idea of the mourner reciting the Kaddish before the congregation still exists, and this minhag should be continued, except in rare cases where there is definite and sufficient reason for not doing so.

Can a Distinction Be Made Between the Dead?

If this question refers to the preceding, I would suggest that the mourners stand at all recitals of the Kaddish for the dead, for whom mourning is a legal duty (viz., relative in the first degree). If this question is general, I refer to Yoreh De-a, Hil. Avelut, where certain distinctions are set forth as the established din and minhag.

The Educational Value of Yahrzeit

The Yahrzeit as a permanent institution in connection with the recital of Kaddish appears first in Germany about the 14th century, but since it goes back to an ancient practice known in Talmudic literature (“Taanit beyom shemet bo aviv ve-imo,”Nedarim), and since its good influence is evident in manifold ways, I would strongly favor its retention as far as possible.

In addition, as chairman of the committee, I would say that while much may be adduced in favor of the individual mourner’s rising for the Kaddish as the outflow of the soul, longing for comfort to be found in submission to God’s will, in conformity with tradition–there is also a consideration for, and a sense of sympathy with, the mourner expressed by the whole congregation rising for Kaddish, wherever it is introduced. The decision of the question must therefore be left to the congregation.

In general, I would here refer to the ancient Rabbinical dictum, “Mitoch shelo lishmah ba lishmah,” “A good practice, even if not done for its own sake, but for some less spiritual motive, should still be encouraged, since it may eventually lead to a more spiritual view,” because it applies to the so-called “KaddishJew,” who attends divine service only in honor of his dead parents. While religion is not merely piety, nevertheless, filial piety shown by the mourners may in the end lead to a more permanently religious attitude.

K. Kohler

NOTE:

In some Reform congregations the traditional custom has been continued of having all mourners who desire to do so–men and women alike–rise for the Kaddish. We concur in Dr. Kohler’s judgment, appended to the 1914 responsum above, that there is no reason to press for discontinuing that custom. But it is clear that in a large number of congregations, the custom has grown and flourished to have the entire congregation rise and recite the Kaddish as a community. The original reason for the institution of this custom was to provide a sense of unity and community support for the mourners. Tragically, a second reason has evolved. The Holocaust makes mourners out of all Jews, and that ongoing sense of loss is expressed through the congregation’s rising and unison recitation of the Kaddish.

Responsa Committee (1980)

If needed, please consult Abbreviations used in CCAR Responsa.

CARR 184-185

CCAR RESPONSA

Contemporary American Reform Responsa

**122. Reciting Qaddish for a Convicted**

Criminal

QUESTION: Is it appropriate to recite qaddish for a

convicted criminal even if the crime was heinous? (J. Brown, Long Beach,

CA)ANSWER: The background of the qaddish and those for whom it is

obligatory has been provided elsewhere. Although sons are generally obligated to recite

qaddish for their parents, if we are dealing with a convicted criminal, matters may be

somewhat different. Let us begin with the question of burial for convicted criminals. It

is clear from the statement in Deuteronomy (21.23) that those who are executed should be

buried even though the body may have been left to lie for a few hours. In Mishnaic times, it often

occurred that a special place was set aside for the temporary burial of those executed (M. San

4.5), but after his flesh had decayed in atonement, the bones were interred in the family

cemetery (M. San. 4.6). Later those who had committed a crime were simply buried in a Jewish

cemetery, however, at some distance from individuals who were considered righteous (San. 47a;

Shulhan Arukh Yoreh Deah 362.52; Hatam Sofer, Responsa, Yoreh Deah 333).

This practice was also followed for those under the ban. If they had committed a serious crime,

then funeral honors were withheld, otherwise the coffin might be stoned by the bet din, or

they placed a single stone on it. Yet, even for serious offenders, takhrihim were permitted

(Solomon Aderet, Responsa, Vol. 5, #236), and his grave was placed in the cemetery in

the normal fashion (Caro in Bayit Hadash to Tur Yoreh Deah 334; Shulhan

Arukh Yoreh Deah 334.3). This pattern was followed for criminals, apostates and individuals

of doubtful character. Therefore, any Jew who committed a crime, no matter how grave, must be

buried in a Jewish cemetery. The normal honors like eulogy, cutting one’s garment, etc. are,

however, withheld. It remains the responsibility for the son to recite qaddish for

such an individual as for a righteous father or mother. For a division of opinion on this matter see

“Incest and Parental Responsibility.” This thought is reinforced by the fact that death is

considered to bring atonement (San. 44a, 56a); the recital of qaddish is traditionally

considered as a way of furthering such atonement through one’s own good deeds (San 104a).

Qaddish should, therefore, be recited for an executed or deceased criminal by those

normally obligated to do so. The obligations of children do not change through any act

committed by the parent.February 1981

If needed, please consult Abbreviations used in CCAR Responsa.

ARR 383-385

CCAR RESPONSA

American Reform Responsa

121. Length of Time for Recital of Kaddish

(Vol. XXIII, 1913, pp. 173-176) Historically of no great significance, one ritual question looms up large in the estimate of the people and is therefore most frequently brought before the rabbi of today for decision, viz.: How long after the death or burial of the relative is the Kaddish to be recited, and on what day is the Yahrzeit to be observed, and the like. An elucidation of the whole practice seems to me, therefore, quite in place. The name Kaddish, which–like the prayer itself–is Aramaic, is found first, as far as I can see, in Mas. Soferim (16.12, 19.19, 21.1). The Talmudic term is “Yehe Shemeh Rabba.” It is the congregational response to the reader’s call to praise the Lord,^l and the idea underlying it is the messianic hope as expressed in Ezekiel 38:23: “Vehitgadalti vehitkadashti,” somewhat corresponding to the original form of the so-called Lord’s Prayer in the New Testament.² In the Babylonian schoolhouse or synagogue it was recited as a doxology at the conclusion of the Agadic lesson or homily addressed to large assemblies, and hence it was recited in Aramaic.³ The more value and importance was attached to this Kaddish recital, the more mystic power was ascribed to it. Originating, no doubt, in the primitive pagan belief that the son must, by some rite (originally by offering food and drink), keep the father’s soul from perdition in the grave, the view took shape in Jewish circles that by having the son or grandson study and teach the Law, the father escapes from the fire of Gehenna.⁴ And the same magic power was ascribed to the recital of the “Barechu” (Praise the Lord) or of the Kaddish. Quite a number of legends illustrative of this idea circulated in Gaonic times. According to one, it was Akiva, according to another, R. Yochanan ben Zakkai, who saved a poor soul from Gehenna’s fire by teaching the son either the Torah or the prayer “Barechu.”⁵ However, this very belief in the power of prayer for the dead can be traced to pre-Christian times, as in the Testament of Abraham (Version A, ch. XIV), where the Patriarch is described as saving a soul from Purgatory by his prayer, in which the Archangel Michael joins him. No doubt, the whole conception was adopted by the Jew from his Persian surroundings, and the Church took it over from the Essene circles. Now, inasmuch as the Purgatory fires, called “the judgment of Gehenna,” were believed to last twelve months,⁶ the Kaddish ought by right to be recited by the son throughout the whole year from the day of burial on. This is indeed given as the custom in Kol Bo, CXIV. But, as Moses Isserles of Cracow tells us in the name of Isaac of Corbeil (13th century), it was felt to be rather unbecoming to a son to regard his father as so sinful as to be subject to the full twelve months’ punishment in Gehenna, and therefore it became customary to cease reciting the Kaddish eleven months after the father’s death.⁷ Much later, the custom spread to have the son recite the Kaddish also for the mother, and still later for the wife, brother, sister, or son. Originally, then, the Kaddish recital for the dead rests on a view which has no root in our system of belief; but, like all the funeral rites in a later stage, it assumed the character of pious regard for the dead. All the more it behooves us to do away with such customs and practices as still bear the character of crude superstitions. Accordingly, Dr. Solomon of Hamburg proposed atthe Rabbinical Conference of Breslau to have the eleven months’ recital of the Kaddish changed into a recital during the whole year of mourning. Certainly, this ought to be generally adopted by the members of our Conference. As to the Yahrzeit⁹–its history is also singular. The name, which is found also among the Jews of Italy and of Persia,^l0 has been taken over from the Germans, who held a Todtenfeier annually for their dead on the day of their death on which the souls were believed to be allowed to return to look after their relatives.¹¹ The name occurs in Jewish literature first among German authors at the end of the 16th and the beginning of the 17th century,^l2 whereas the Spanish Jews of the Orient opposed the Kaddish recital on the Yahrzeit as casting reflection on the parental honor in the spirit expressed above. Only Isaac Luria, who was of German descent, defended the custom, saying that it was to elevate the parent’s soul into a higher realm of Gan Eden. On the other hand, it seems to have been an ancient custom to fast on the anniversary of the parent’s death. This is mentioned in Sefer Chasidim and Kol Bo,¹³ and seems to rest on the baraita:¹⁴ “One swears to abstain from food and drink on the anniversary of the death of his father.” No doubt, this day was regarded as one of ill luck, and–like the fasting after a bad dream–it was meant to avert the same. We have here again a custom based on some superstitious notion transformed into a mark of filial piety, and it is as such that it claims our consideration.K. Kohler and D. NeumarkNOTES:1. Sifrei, Deut. 30:6.2. See J.E., s.v. “Kaddish” and “Lord’s Prayer.”3. Sota 49a; Shab. ll9b; Ber. 3a; comp. Tosafot eadem; Kol Bo, VII; Tur, Orach Chayim LVI.4. Tana d.b. Eliyahu Rabba, XVII; Zuta, XII; Sanh. 104a; Sefer Chasidim, Vislinezki, 12. 5. Seder Eliyahu Zuta, XVII; Kala Rab., II; Menorat Hama-or I, A, h; Machzor Vitry, 144; comp. M. Friedman, Pseudo Seder Eliyahu Zuta, pp. 23-25, and Landshut, Maavar Yabok, ch. XXXI.6. Eduyot II.10. Rosh Hashana 17a; compare Tosefta, Sanhedrin XIII.3-5, where it is an object of controversy between the Shammaites and Hillelites.7. Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim 376.4, and Darchei Mosheh to Tur, eadem.8. See Protocolle d. Rabbinerversammlung zu Breslau, p. 286. 9. Berliner, Rome II, d. 55; Loew, Ges. Schr. IV, 264, note 1.10. Peterman, Reisen im Orient II, 175.11. Schoenwarth, Liter. u. Sagen aus der Oberpfalz.12. Isaac ofTyana’s Minhagim; Mordecai Jaffe, Lewsh Hatechelet.13. Sefer Chasidim, ed. Wistenetzki, 200; Kol Bo, CXIV.14. Nedarim 12a; Shevu-ot 20b.

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TFN no. 5755.7 49

CCAR RESPONSA

Gentile Names on Yahrzeit List

5755.7

She’elah

May the names of deceased parents of a gentile who is married to a Jewish member of the congregation be included in the Temple’s yahrzeit list? If not, may such names which already are included on the list be removed? (Rabbi Douglas Kohn, Hoffman Estates, Illinois)

Teshuvah

The question has been discussed by R. Solomon B. Freehof¹. In his responsum, he dealt with the question whether gentile visitors to a service should rise for the Kaddish, and whether there was anything in Jewish tradition contrary to their doing so.

He answered : While the mitzvah to honor father and mother is not one of the seven Noahide commandments, excluding anyone from this act of reverence would needlessly raise inimical feelings on the part of the family. We would therefore caution you to avoid such a likelihood mipnei darchei shalomfor the sake of peace.

To be sure, R. Freehof’s responsum dealt with a passing phase, in that the gentiles participating were only visitors to the synagogue, and the only question that might be asked is whether by including the names of the gentile partner’s parents we give further sanction to mixed marriage.

We do not believe that including the names of the gentile spouse’s parents will constitute an act of such approval. The couple are de facto members of your congregation, and if the gentile partner wishes to worship in your synagogue s/he is obviously invited and even encouraged to do so. Part of such worship is paying reverence to deceased relatives, and since the Kaddish contains no proprietary formulation and can be said by anyone without assuming Jewish identity, calling names for whom Kaddish will be said appears as a proper act of filial piety. Al achat kama v’chama, the name(s) should not be removed from the list.

Notes

Modern Reform Responsa (1971), # 10, p.p. 62-69.

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CARR 186-188

CCAR RESPONSA

Contemporary American Reform Responsa

**124. Qaddish for a Pet**

QUESTION:

A pet of a family quite active in the congregation has died; the entire family has been very

much attached to it for years. They would, therefore, like to recite qaddish for it. What

does Jewish tradition say about this use of the qaddish? (A. S., West

Virginia)ANSWER The indulgence of pets, a recent American phenomenon, was

unknown in earlier times. Animals played an important economic role in Biblical times, but there

was no discussion of them beyond the need to treat them decently and kindly. For example, the

commandment which deals with Sabbath rest insisted that animals rest along with man (Ex.

20.10). They are servants of man, but on a lower level. Some were not seen in a complimentary

light, so dogs were mentioned disparagingly. For example, Goliath spoke of David when that lad

was sent against him; “Am I a dog that you come against me with sticks?” (I Samuel 17.43).

When Ecclesiastes wished to indicate the value of even a meager life, it stated, “A living dog is

better than a dead lion” (9.4). Dogs were traditionally considered unclean, mainly

through their contact with corpses (Lev. 22.4). The dog was seen primarily as a scavenger, as

already shown in Exodus. Cattle which had been killed by wild animals were thrown to the dogs.

Elsewhere, male pagan religious prostitutes were referred to as “dogs” (Deut. 23.18). When the

Talmud wished to be derogatory about Goliath, it provided him with a genealogy in which

he is called the son of a loose woman, who had intercourse with dogs (Sotah 42b; Rashi and

Commentaries). Only in the post-Biblical book, Tobit, were there some

favorable references to dogs (5.16, 11.4). The Mishnaic and Talmudic literature understood the

danger of certain kinds of dogs being indistinguishable from wolves, especially in the evening

(M. Kil 8.6, 1.6; Ber. 9b). A dog was considered among the poorest of all creatures and often had

to subsist entirely on scraps and as a scavenger (Shab. 155b). Dogs used in sheep herding were

viewed more favorably (M. Hul. 1.8) On the other hand, the Talmud

appreciated the atmosphere of safety created by dogs and suggested that one should not

live in a town where the barking of dogs was not heard (Pes. 113a; Betza 15a). The potential

danger of rabies was also recognized (Hul. 58b; Yoma 83b). Dogs were to be chained as they

were considered dangerous (B. K. 79b; Yad Hil. Nizqei Mamon 5.9; Shulhan

Arukh Hoshen Mishpat 409), and it was considered sinful to maintain a dog that was known

to bite people (B. K. 15b), but one could let a dog run loose in harbor cities, presumably as an

additional safeguard against lawless seamen (B. K. 83a). Enmity between human beings and

dogs was mentioned in at least one passage of the Jerusalem Talmud (1. Ber.

8.8). Hunting dogs were not mentioned in the Talmud but later by Rashi in his

commentary to B. K. (80a). Dogs were sometimes kept as pets and the Talmud in one

place mentioned that if a woman spends her time entirely with lap dogs or on games (possibly

chess), this was grounds for divorce (Ket. 61b). Although cats were certainly known to

ancient Israelites, after all they were considered sacred animals in Egypt, there is no mention of

the domesticated cat in the Bible. The single reference in the post-Biblical book of

Baruch (6.22) may refer to a wild cat. The Talmud considered cats as loyal (Hor.

13a) in contrast to the dog. The principle purpose of keeping cats was to rid a building of mice

(B. K. 80a) as well as other small animals (San. 105a), including snakes (Pes. 112b; Shab.

128b). They were, of course, dangerous to chickens and domesticated birds, as well young

lambs and goats (Hul. 52b, 53a; Ket. 41b). Cats also endangered babies (B. K. 80b). The limited

intelligence of cats was blamed on their consumption of mice, which were supposed to decrease

memory (Hor. 13a). In nineteenth century Russia, a folk myth warned Yeshivah students from

playing with cats because that might diminish their memory. Cats were, on the other hand, seen

as a model of cleanliness and modesty (Er. 100b). Once cats established themselves in a house,

they rarely left and remained very loyal (Shab. 51b). Sometimes their fur was used as it was

particularly soft (B K. 80b). Nothing in the halakhah has dealt with the affection

felt for animals. This feeling is understandable, but we should not confuse it with the greater love

and respect for a human life. We should not use a prayer which is dear to the heart of every Jew

to commemorate a dead animal. It would be absolutely wrong, and a mockery, to include the

name of the pet in the weekly qaddish list. Mourners would be shocked and angered to

see their father and mother listed alongside a dog or cat. Whatever mourning for a pet

which may occur should be conducted privately and outside of the purview of

Judaism.December 1984

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ARR 387-390

CCAR RESPONSA

American Reform Responsa

**123. A Proselyte Reciting Kaddish for Deceased Parents**

(Vol. LXV, 1955, pp. 90-91)QUESTION: A woman of my congregation, who had been officially converted to Judaism, requested that the names of her deceased parents be read before the Kaddish, on the occasion of the Yahrzeit. A member of my Board desired to know whether traditional law would favor such a practice.ANSWER: To the Rabbinic view of the proselyte and his parentage, there are two aspects–a theoretical and a practical one. Theoretically, the convert is a new-born babe. The old self has been replaced by a new self (Yevamot 48a). In practice, however, when confronted by a real situation, the Rabbis flung their theory aside. They permitted a proselyte to exercise the right of inheritance upon the death of his parents (Demai 6.10). They also imposed upon the proselyte the obligation to honor his natural parents, holding him responsible for any misconduct toward them (Yoreh De-a 241). The Rabbis, it would seem, had too keen a sense of the real and the practical to follow slavishly their own theories. There is no good reason, therefore, why we should not be as realistic and practical as the Rabbis of old and permit the converted woman to give full expression to her filial sentiment and obligation.Israel Bettan

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ARR 377-379

CCAR RESPONSA

American Reform Responsa

118. Kaddish

(1980)

QUESTION: What is the origin of the Kaddish? For what length of time should the surviving family recite Kaddish? For whom is it obligatory to recite Kaddish?

ANSWER: The most frequently recited prayer of the traditional synagogue service is the Kaddish. It was originally not a prayer commemorating the dead, but a great doxology which served as a way of separating various segments of the service (Ismar Elbogen, Der Juedische Gottesdienst in seiner geschichtlichen Entwicklung, 1924, pp. 92ff). It was also used at the conclusion of segments of the study of Rabbinic literature, and only later became a prayer recited at the burial service.

Originally, the Kaddish was recited as the congregational response to a sermonic discourse with the main emphasis on the words “Yehe Shemeh Rabba…” (Sota 49a), and so the Talmud knew the Kaddish by these words (“May His great name be praised”). It seems, therefore, that the origin of the Kaddish lies in Beit Midrash (house of study) rather than in the synagogue (J. Heinemann, Hatefila Bitkufat Hatana-im Veha-emora-im, p. 173, and “The Background of Jesus’ Prayer in the Jewish Liturgy,” The Lord’s Prayer and Jewish Liturgy, ed. J. Petuchowski and M. Brocke, pp. 81ff).

The first connection between the Kaddish and the mourner came about in the following fashion: At the conclusion of the Musaf service on Shabbat, the leader of the congregation would comfort the mourners and then recite the Kaddish (Soferim 19.12). However, we do not find the Kaddish recited by mourners themselves till the 13th century (Machzor Vitry, ed. Horvitz, p. 74). Isaac Or Zarua stated that this was customary in Bohemia and the Rhineland, but not in France (Or Zarua, 754). The practice of reciting Kaddish for the dead may have been influenced by a medieval Midrash which stated that such a prayer could help the soul after death (Seder Eliyahu Zuta, ed. Friedmann, p. 23, note 52; Menorat Hama-or 1.1).

It became customary to recite the Kaddish for an entire year following death, as the Talmud stated that the piety of a son could help the deceased father or grandfather (Sanh. 104a); therefore, sons were to be instructed to say the Kaddish properly (Sefer Chasidim, ed. Margolis, 722). It was felt that the tortures of the nether world could last twelve months (Mishna, Eduyot II.10; R.H. 17a). Both thoughts together led to the recital of the Kaddish by a son for twelve months (Kol Bo, 114). Eventually, that custom was changed to a recital of only eleven months, as the Mishna just cited asserted that the wicked are judged for a year, and no one wished to imply that his/her parents were wicked (Isserles to Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De-a 376.4; Aruch Hashulchan, 376.15). Most Reform congregations have rejected this line of reasoning and returned to a recital of the Kaddish for twelve months (Gates of Mitzvah, p. 62).

At first, only a son recited Kaddish for his dead father, but, according to Ashkenazic custom, a daughter was similarly permitted to recite Kaddish (Chavat Chemed, 60). Isserles stated that in some places it was customary to recite Kaddish for all of one’s dead kin (to Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De-a, 376.4). Certainly, this would extend to the seven relatives for whom one would observe mourning. They are: father, mother, brother, sister, son, daughter, and husband or wife (Lev. 21:2 provided a primary list which was expanded in Mo-ed Katan 20b; Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De-a, 374.4). Some would extend this list even further, and, certainly, we could agree that it may be so extended as prompted by individual feelings. We would include scholars or people who had particular influence on an individual’s life.

In some communities it has become customary for the entire congregation to stand and recite the Kaddish in commemoration of the martyrs of the Holocaust. Kaddish for the dead should be recited at daily services at the synagogue whenever such services are held on a regular basis, privately at home, or at the weekly synagogue services, for a period of twelve months (Isserles to Sh.A., Yoreh De-a, 376.4).

Traditionally, the recitation of Kaddish has required a Minyan (Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim, 55.1), as public prayer was preferred over private prayer (Sh.A., Orach Chayim 90.9). It

emphasized the presence of the Shechina in a community of worshippers. During the period of mourning, the presence of a congregation will help overcome sorrow. By reciting Kaddish in a congregation, “we declare the merit of those whose parting we mourn, that they have instilled in us loyalty to God and devotion to His service and the serene acceptance of His Will, so that in the presence of the congregation when we think of the departed, we praise God’s Name in serenity of heart” (S.B. Freehof, Reform Jewish Practice, vol. I, p. 170). It is for this reason that friends of the family will join in a service (with or without a Minyan) at the house of mourning during the Shiv-a (Gates of Mitzvah, pp. 62ff). The year of regular Kaddish recital begins with these services.

The prayer–as a doxology–praises God, and thereby lets the mourner reaffirm his faith in God despite all that has happened. It has become a prayer which expresses acceptance, loyalty, and devotion to God, and as such has become part of every Jewish service throughout the world. The Kaddish may, therefore, be appropriately repeated by all at any and every service; and any worshiper may stand during its recital. This is especially appropriate if done in commemoration of the Holocaust. Through this prayer, we express sorrow for unknown martyrs who have died and sympathy toward friends who have suffered bereavement.
Walter Jacob, Chairman

Leonard S. Kravitz

Eugene Lipman

W. Gunther Plaut

Harry A. Roth

Rav A. Soloff

Bernard Zlotowitz

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