Michael el Chayil

Here is a real pet peeve of mine.  When people ask: Was is suppose to rain today?  My usual answer is along the lines of, "Given that it  is  raining, I am going to go with -- yes."   Their question is really "did my weather app predict this rain?"  If the answer is no, it is a question on the app, *not* on the rain.  (Yes, I am fully cognizant that this is the reason I don't have many friends.  Your point?) What prompted this little mini-rant was a link to an article sent to me the other day. Science (from Latin scientia, meaning "knowledge") is a systematic enterprise that builds and organizes knowledge in the form of testable explanations and predictions about the universe. People with a religious bent are wont to complain about how science is wrong about Creation and evolution.  I respectfully -- albeit vehemently -- disagree; see  here  for a more correct approach.  Or  here  for an explanation that evolution is bad science ... it's relat

Three angels "dressed", as it were, as human beings visited Avraham Avinu on the third day after he circumcised himself at 99 years of age.  When they finished their "visit" and went to S'dom, we only find that only two angels actually made that trek.  Rashi explains that every angel can perform only a single mission, and that each mission is executed entirely by a single angel.  Therefore, three angels were needed for the visit to Avraham Avinu; one to heal Avraham Avinu, one to deliver the good news that Sara Imeinu would be bearing a son the next year, and one to destroy S'dom.  Only two were needed in S'dom; one to destroy the S'dom and one to save Lot. Why the angel whose mission it was to destroy S'dom needed to also visit Avraham Avinu is beyond the scope of this TftD (grist for a future TftD).  There was one angel who both visited Avraham Avinu and also went to S'dom: Rafael.  I was careful not to write "and continued on to S&#

As you may know, I have a new grandson.  (To be precise, he was quite new when I wrote this; I have no idea how old he is now that you are reading this, as blogs in the cloud go on and on and on....)  In any case, you can learn more about his birth in another blog post (hint: follow this link ). His two oldest siblings were just a bit disappointed (until they met him, or course; then their hearts melted).  His oldest sibling was disappointed because she was hoping for another sister.  His next oldest sibling was disappointed because he had noticed a pattern -- girl, boy, girl, boy -- and thought it obvious that the pattern should continue.  They both learned big lessons from this experience.  She learned that you don't always get what you want.  He learned that thinking something is obviously true doesn't make it true.  Truthfully, all I can say is that they had those lessons presented to them.  Did they learn?  Only time will tell. I, of course, was not disappointed at all

This TftD is so  self-serving that I should be embarrassed.  But I am not... talking about grandchildren is always off budget.  I have, bli ayin hara, a beautiful new grandson; born at 6:11 PM CDT last Friday night.  The secular (aka -- by me, anyway -- slave) date is October 20, 2017 CE.  The Hebrew (aka Real) date is certainly Rosh Chodesh חשון/Cheshvan and certainly in the year 5778 since Creation.  The date, you ask... good question! Sundown on Friday night was 6:01 PM CDT, which means he was born either at the end of the last day of תשרי or the beginning of the first day of Cheshvan; a period know as בין השמשות/twilight.  What's the big deal, you ask... I am so  glad you asked.  We all deal quite handily with בין השמשות every week and every holiday; we're just stringent.  We start Shabbos and the first day of Yom Tov before בין השמשות; that is, before sundown.  Likewise, we end Shabbos and the first day of Yom Tov after בין השמשות; some 42, 50, 60, or 72 minutes after su

I noticed odd wording in HaShem's decision to banish Adam and Chava from Eden.  The verse says that they were banished and the entryway blocked lest  they now eat from the Tree of Life.  "Lest"?!?  I would have expected "before" or "so they couldn't".  The word "lest" implies that they likely wouldn't eat from the Tree of Life, but Let's just make sure they don't. Strange, no?  After all, if someone had just discovered that they had ingested poison, wouldn't they run to get the antidote?  Especially if the antidote was just to eat a piece of fruit from a tree in their yard.  I asked a few people; they admitted it was odd, but then just shrugged it off.  They had better things to do with their time then worry about odd wording in the minor part of the story from last week's Torah portion.  I (apparently) did not  have anything better to do with my time; so I did some research. Rabbeinu Bachya makes an observation th

This world is tailor made for one purpose: to enable the triumph of good over evil.  I know... drama, drama, drama; but sometimes reality really  is  drama, drama, drama.  If you prefer -- and, in fact, the traditional kabbalistic writings do prefer -- we can change the wording to "light infusing -- and thereby illuminating -- the darkness." One may ask, "If HaShem wanted a world of good/light, why not just create that?"  The question (usually asked by those who want to demonstrate how silly and naive it is to believe in a Creator) really has a very simple answer.  HaShem didn't/doesn't  want a world of good/light.  What He wants (and what He has created) is a unique and purpose built world for each and every human being to wage his own uniquely crafted battle against evil, triumph, and thereby achieve immortality via his own bond with the Creator.  Drama, drama, drama... and true. We are critters (that is, a created being) and therefore cannot really un

Opening lines are certainly important.  Case in point, I always spend way too much time working out how to begin a TftD.  Typically I have a thought I want to convey; that's the body.  I try to end with a nice tag line that summarized the main point in a memorable way (with varying success).  The first line/paragraph is really meant to pique the reader's interest in reading more.  I typically do that with either a cute story (often involving my grandchildren), or an interesting fact (often drawn from my physics background), or a straight up question on a Chazal (often based on a Rashi).  The cute stories and interesting facts are meant to seem irrelevant, but they always exemplify some dimension of the topic expressed in the TftD. Walking around pregnant in one's ninth month, they say, is like carrying a 16 lb bowling ball with you every place you go.  (Having never been pregnant, I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.)  Try this: When said pregnant women comes ho

For all that Rosh HaShanah is and represents, the blast of the shofar is its spokesman.  Women with small children who don't have the luxury to daven, those small children who can't even talk/let alone daven, and the sick and elderly who are exempt from davening all want to hear the shofar blast; and we accommodate all of them.  Times, places, and messengers are scheduled, assigned, publicized, and eagerly anticipated. And why not?  After all, the shofar blast represents our acceptance of the Torah at Mt. Sinai.  That sound that pierces to the core of our soul harkens back to that day of awe when all of Creation stopped to wait for Klal Yisrael to answer נעשה ונשמע/We will do whatever it takes to have an eternal bond with our Creator and we will make deepening that bond our only priority!  It celebrates the marriage, as Chazal describe it, between the Creator and His beloved Klal Yisrael.  Wow! There is also the daily shofar blasts the entire month of Elul leading up to Ros

Yom Kippur.  When I was growing up, there were three annual events that marked the Jewish calendar: eating matzos on Passover, lighting candles on Chanuka, and  fasting on Yom Kippur.  Major news organizations around the world report on the "surreal" and "eerie" quiet of the streets in even the most secular neighborhoods of Israel.  Yom Kippur. As you know, I am observant of Jewish law.  Some have even called me "ultra orthodox" (not in a kind way).  Given that, I have a question.  How likely do you think that I would be tempted to eat on Yom Kippur, that most holy day of the year?  Let's make the scale zero to ten, where zero is "as likely as driving through McDonald's on Shabbos and ordering a Big Mac with extra cheese." and ten is "as likely as breathing regularly".  Take your time.  If you answered "zero"; thank you, but -- sadly and penitently -- no.  The answer is more like nine; I'd like to say lower, but