Michael el Chayil

We owe many categories of people a certain measure of כבוד. I shy away from using the usual translation of "respect", as the parameters of what we call כבוד go far beyond what the world considers "showing respect". Standing up for a parent or talmid chacham might be considered going above and beyond the call of duty by the world, but it is bread a butter כבוד. I don't believe that the idea of not contradicting them doesn't even enter in the world's mind. Include that showing כבוד means one that one is not allowed to even voice an imprimatur of their parent's or rebbi's words, and the world's eyes just glaze over. Nonetheless, that is all just bread and butter כבוד for us. On the other hand, walk into most Jewish homes and you will not find the children popping up even twice a day when their parents walk into the room. (There certainly are families who exemplify this trait quite beautifully and I feel fortunate to know them; they remain, tho

Pinion feather are the the wing feathers necessary for flight. Each species of bird has a distinctive number of pinion feathers; though all have at least nine. Crows (and ravens -- and many other birds, for that matter) have 10. Song sparrows have only nine. That makes the difference between a crow and a song sparrow simply a matter of a pinion. But seriously, folks... I reckon there are four categories of opinions, two of which have halachic consequences. Of the inconsequential opinions, there are two. First, there are stupid opinions. No, I don't mean things like, "In my opinion, there are no stupid questions." (Only uttered seriously by new teachers. Those of us who have taught for a while use that phrase only sarcastically and with much eye rolling.) That's not a stupid opinion, it's just naive. No, I mean folks who say things like, "In my opinion, the mathematical constant pi is exactly three." or "In my opinion, the whole moon landing thing

Fact: When a Jew acquires a metal or glass utensil from a non-Jew for the purpose of using that utensil for its intended purpose (as opposed to acquiring it to sell or as an object d'art, for example), then the utensil must be immersed in a kosher mikveh before it is used (even once). This is, of course, the mitzvah of טבילת כלים. Fact: A utensil that was originally owned (or made, which is an intense form of ownership) by a non-Jew that is acquired from a Jewish merchant also requires immersion in a kosher mikveh before first use. Fact: When someone buys a utensil to give as a gift, they have the same status as the store keeper regarding טבילת כלים. Namely, they have not acquired utensil to use for its intended purpose and therefore immersing it in a kosher mikveh would have no effect except to make it wet. If they were to make a bracha on that immersion it would incur the sin of reciting HaShem's name in vain. If they were to tell the recipient that the utensil has alread

I was once told (at a back yard BBQ with Israeli neighbors) that Arabic is the best language for poetry. Why? Because is has so many adjectives and so many fine distinctions/shades of meaning can be expressed. For example, my neighbor told me, the word that then "president" of the PLO was using for "peace" really meant, "I don't think I can beat you right now, so I'd like us to agree not to fight." Seems to me that Arabic would also be a wonderful language for marketing and statesmanship. That is, an excellent choice for avoiding saying what you mean in order to gain an advantage. Hebrew (classic Hebrew, anyway) also has ways to express many shades of meaning and intent, though they are all meant to make that meaning and intent as clear as possible.  Google gives the following translations of לְהַפְקִיר: abandon, give up, forsake, forfeit. I respectfully disagree. My issue is that those English words are all associated with feelings of being pass

This is the rule: Anything and everything in the Torah -- both written and  oral -- is relevant and necessary for me to live my everyday -- so to speak -- mundane life. I know that is the rule and I believe it. None the less, it is often feels like "decree of the King"; I am forbidden wear mixtures of wool and linen, forbidden to eat bacon, the ashes of the red heifer make one clean and the other impure, and every word and story in the Torah -- written and oral -- is relevant to my daily life. Take, for example, the medrash that the residents of the soon to be Eretz Yisrael spent the 40 years that Jews were "wandering" in the wilderness hiding their valuables in the walls of their houses. Later the Jews moved in and started normal life, including regular commerce and moving around. Houses would be sold and bought. It could be several dozens or even hundreds of years before the valuables were discovered in the walls. The question naturally arises, to whom does that

[PSA: I realize in retrospect that the first three paragraphs are mostly about showing off my b'kius in Monty Python and to lampoon the accountant profession. Both laudable goals, but you may wish to either fast forward past those, or stop reading after that. I try to be accommodating.] No unintentional offense to my friends who are accountants, but before davening at the vasikin minyan in Chicago, my feeling toward that profession had been best expressed by a Monty Python sketch about an accountant seeking career counseling: Well, er, yes Mr Anchovy, but you see your report here says that you are an extremely dull person. You see, our experts describe you as an appallingly dull fellow, unimaginative, timid, lacking in initiative, spineless, easily dominated, no sense of humour, tedious company and irrepressibly drab and awful. And whereas in most professions these would be considerable drawbacks, in chartered accountancy they are a positive boon. (For the rest, just Google &q

My research adviser was not at all careful to use the title "Doctor". He said that in all of his flying and theater going experience, never once had he heard announced, "Is there a physicist in the house? We have an emergency differential equation that needs to be solved!" I can add my 60 plus years of experience to that observation. But if someone did  have an emergency and need a differential equation solved (yeah, yeah, and if a frog did  have six shooters and a ten gallon hat), would I be able to charge for that service, if no fees were discussed on either side prior to the service being rendered? First, is this a question that halacha addresses? Answer: Yes, halacha covers all situations; the Torah is timeless. Ah... right... sure... so where does one go to determine the halacha in this situation? We often talk about the "fifth section of shuchan aruch", but it sure ain't הלכות משוואות דיפרנציאליות. Fortunately, this is really easy. It's a m