Yesterday on our tiyul to Ammunition Hill, we learned of the intrepid soldiers of the Six Day War who liberated Jerusalem of Jordanian occupation and rid the city of its dividing walls. During those same six days, we spoke of the gamble of the Air Force, in which the entirety of Israel's flying capability flew silently to their approaching enemies' bases of operation and destroyed their runways, virtually ending the war. As a result of the IDF's courageous endeavors, Israel captured Yehuda and Shomron (the West Bank) from Jordan, the Gaza strip from Egypt, and the Golan heights from Syria.

A select soldier's story specifically mentioned the abrupt crying of his commander when he realized they had taken back Jerusalem. A hard man, unknown to emotion, with tears running down his face as he looked out on the city that had been captive for so many years. Even though I feel no strong connection to Jerusalem, just the thought of such a reaction was powerful, and made me wish to be able to love on that level. Despite this, when I look out over Jerusalem, it never ceases to be awe-inspiring. I realize now why so many take the following to heart: "If I forget thee Oh Jerusalem, let my right hand lose its cunning..."

Israel has always felt like a nation to me, not a religious state. Living in Tel Aviv, I barely noticed the Jewish influence, as the bustling city life and lazy beach days gave little impression of religious activities. Per day, I would see on average zero to one Haredi, or even Orthodox people on the street. It was my secular home, and I loved it.

It is only now, learning about current events and living next to Jerusalem, that the full force of the ultra-Orthodox campaign has reached my ears and become obvious. Even more recently however, is talk of the fall of this "rabbinical hegemony". More or less, this term describes the religious parties' influence in modern Israel, from mikvah building restrictions to Knesset laws. But with the rise of secular Israelis and people living their daily lives without the help of the ultra-Orthodox, this independence has led to far less reliance on religion, and is turning Israel away from the rabbinate's dominion.

The return from Poland at the ungodly hours of dawn last week proved a hard, but relieving day. After the intensive, jam-packed week filled with talk of Jewish life and death in Europe, returning to daily Kibbutz Tzuba life with school the next day seemed like a culture shock. Back into the swing of things so soon. It was such a change in the mood from the past somber week that it almost felt surreal. But in any case, it felt amazing to be back in the Promised Land, away from the ugliness and depressive grim taste of a country filled with a connotation of evil for the Jews. As life resumed in the present, I was content with being a Jew in Israel.

The Evolution of the Torah

Since the moment God bequeathed the written law to Moses, the leader of the Jewish people, on top of Mount Sinai, the Torah has been the epicenter of the Jewish faith, specifying Halacha (Jewish law) and facilitating the struggles of quotidian Am Yisrael (the Jewish people). As the years went by, Torah SheBichtav (the written Torah) began to be interpreted by Am Yisrael in order to adapt to the times and the societies in which they lived—this became known as the Torah SheBaalPeh (oral Torah). Both aspects of Torah are essential to the continuation of Am Yisrael, each one enabling the other to survive, the unchanging Torah SheBichtav and the perpetually growing Torah SheBaalPeh combining to shape Jewish life into a modern, yet traditional culture.

About 1500 years after Moses was given the written Torah, Am Yisrael began to organize the Torah SheBaalPeh, which was accumulating over centuries into a collection of commentary: the Mishnah. This was a result of the vast amount of oral tradition needing to be passed down, the inability to pass it down orally, and the fear of oral law being extinguished in the case of a disaster—such as the failed Bar Kochba revolts, in which nearly all of the Jews in the area known as Judah were murdered. The result of writing down the oral Torah was that Am Yisrael came to take the commentary as Halacha, the benefits of this being the adaptation to modern society that the interpretations enabled. As time went on however, the belief in oral law became so prominent, that it began to take over authority from Torah SheBichtav, a scenario never meant to occur.

The written Torah was always supposed to take precedence over any other forms of commentary. The Mishnah was merely exposition from the rabbis on the Torah, with the real authority stemming directly from the scripture itself, given to Am Yisrael by God. The modern Reform Movement has taken Torah SheBaalPeh to a whole new level of importance, relying in most cases only on contemporary interpretations of the Torah. While beneficial in the fact that this creates a tolerance in the Jewish community, it also ignores our deep historical roots; Jews are people of the book, and the Torah contains rules that have governed Am Yisrael for millennia. For the Reform Movement to forsake these commandments now, the repercussions of such a drastic action could lead to far worse things than not following Halacha, in terms of being ostracized by the remainder of Jewry.

            It is essential as Jews to keep in our hearts Torah SheBichtav, our connection to the Israelites of the past, our forefathers. However, many aspects of the written Torah are no longer applicable in the slightest to modern day, begging the introduction of oral law into society. But cautious steps must be taken. To fully turn to Torah SheBaalPeh would mean disregarding its original basis, and as Jews we cannot resort to that. Instead we must utilize both, weave each of them into our lives so that we live in the present, but never forget our past.

Challah baking... who would've thought that such a simple thing could cause such a large debate? The issue of women being thought of as the bakers brings about an interesting scenario. Usually the roles are reversed, and it is the women who are frowned upon by society to step into a "men's line of work". However, to put aside the issue of gender discrimination and bias, challah baking is a Jewish custom, and while society should be open to any Jew practicing it, it has singled out only the women to be eligible. This should not be a gender issue, it should not be one at all, which is exactly the argument of many Jewish men who bake challah. Even gentiles are welcome to take part in this custom, and while it may not be as meaningful to them, they can still bake delicious bread, and withholding that would be depriving the rest of the world of a delicacy.

For the whole article, see below:
http://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-life-and-religion/198163/challah-and-the-men-who-bake-it

The weekend was full of nostalgia. After spending two nights back in the city where I had lived for half a year in 6th grade, every glance brought a moment of déjà vu or a recollection of what once had been and now has changed. Sarona market reminded me of distinct memories walking through Shuk HaNemal on the Tayelet, and just the sight of Shuk HaCarmel revived distant memories of spices and fruits wafting from the stands of the multitude of merchants. Walking down Tel Baruch beach and exploring Nachalat Binyamin, I took strange comfort in the fact that they were just as I remembered them.

The rest of the city however was an eye opener to me. I had not been aware enough when I was 11 years old to perceive what life was like for many Tel Aviv residents, I had merely turned an innocent eye. Especially two days after the Tayelet stabbings, I kept a watchful gaze on my surroundings. It was a much different feeling from the warmth and safety radiating from every Israeli that walked by me five years ago. Now there was an air of mistrust and caution that suffocated the warm sea breeze and settled over the land of Israel.

The Babylonian Talmud, the version of Tanakh, Mishnah, and Gemarrah commentary that is most well known today is influenced by many outside sources, including Roman traditions that found their way into the lives of our rabbis of old. Compared to the Jerusalem Talmud, the one created and redacted in Babylon contains laws of how to live as a minority—a tool essential to the Jewish people after the genocide of the Bar Kochba revolts in Judea. The Jerusalem Talmud is not as applicable to Jewish life after this time because it was made in a city where Jews had been the minority for many, many years.

A book by Richard Kalmin, Migrating Tales, contains historical evidence of the Talmud's creation, and the stories behind the narrative's travel and migration. The book accentuates the subtle details of historical times: for example how the rabbis acted as the leaders of the Jewish community, even though it is likely that there were other, more important political figures in power. Additionally, living in the midst of the Roman empire, it is no surprise that tradition and culture assimilated very fast into cultures, and that Rome became a melting pot of civilizations—many of which ceased to exist as a separate entity from Rome. It is miraculous that within these confines, a minuscule percentage of the population, being influenced by hellenism, Christianity, paganism, and other regional cultures, that we managed to stay our own nation of Israel, and that our teachings have survived to this very day.

http://marginalia.lareviewofbooks.org/here-there-and-everywhere-by-amit-gvaryahu/