~ Ask the Rabbi ~

Answer: The Torah doesn't say:

"One holy man had a vision."

It says:

An entire nation heard God speak... men, women, children—hundreds of thousands—at the same time.

This is crucial.

Why this matters

• Every other religion is based on private revelation

("Trust me, God spoke to me.")

• Torah is based on public revelation

("You were all there. Ask your parents.")

You cannot successfully invent a national memory like this after the fact.

Ask yourself:

Could someone convince a nation:

"Your grandparents all stood at Sinai and heard God,"

if no such memory existed?

That kind of lie collapses immediately.

Also:

Empires disappear. Ancient peoples vanish.

Yet:

• No land

• No army

• No king

• Constant persecution

Still:

• Same Torah

• Same people

• Same identity

• Same laws

Mark Twain famously wrote that Jews are "the mystery of history."

From a Torah perspective, this isn't random:

"You will be few among the nations… yet you will not be destroyed."

You don't have to call that proof—but coincidence starts to strain credibility.

Transmission without collapse

For over 3,000 years:

• Hand-copied texts

• Extreme accuracy

• Distributed across continents

• No central authority enforcing uniformity

Yet the Torah text is astonishingly consistent.

That level of fidelity without modern technology is not trivial.

Torah-from-Hashem explains Jewish history better than human authorship

Давайте обратимся к самому достоверному источнику - Торе!

Действительно, обещано было Аврааму, что его потомки выйдут на свободу и обретут право на Святую Землю через 400 лет мучений и порабощения. Но при описании выхода из Египта появляется другое число. Нам сообщают, что евреи вышли на свободу по окончании 430 лет! Уже это требует более детального анализа. А если мы обратим внимание на родословную Моше, то увидим, что его дед Кеат был среди тех, кто пришел в Египет. Уже 130 летний возраст Якова вызывает удивление, а мы должны предположить какого-то сверхдолгожителя в отце или деде Моше! Тем более, что возраст предков Моше нам указан с точностью: Кеат жил 133 года, Амрам - 137, а Моше был восьмидесятилетним на момент выхода из Египта. Как ни складывай, до 400 не дотягивает.

Поэтому вывод, предлагаемый еврейскими мудрецам - среди них великий комментатор Торы, рабби Шломо Ицхаки (Раши), - лучше всего согласуется с текстом Торы. А именно: 430 лет прошло после обещания Всевышнего, полученного Авраамом, до его исполнения, из них 400 лет - от времени рождения Ицхака (то есть, от появления у Авраама потомков, чья судьба предсказывается в этом пророчестве) - прошли для потомства Авраама в бедах и скитаниях, которые завершились тяжелым порабощением в Египте. Среди всех лет скитаний 210 пришлось на пребывание в Египте.

Vegetarianism from the Perspective of the Torah

Your question is important, and since it was written briefly, I will also respond briefly, but later, in the sources, I will expand the discussion to clarify the issue in all its aspects and origins.

First, let me clarify that, obviously, the question is not whether it is worth eating meat because it is something tasty or, alternatively, whether it should be avoided because it is something repugnant and not tasty, because, evidently, this is an unnecessary discussion and, as the saying goes, "there's no accounting for taste." I will also not refer to those who, due to their temperament or condition, are at risk of eating meat because of the fat it contains, etc., as each person should know their condition and what is healthy or dangerous for themselves. And those who oppose the consumption of meat due to the current situation where foods are industrialized, etc., may find this problem in other foods as well, and this does not apply exclusively to the consumption of meat.

Here we discuss whether to eat meat or avoid it, due to the moral aspect of the issue, that is, interrupting the lives of these creatures so that they serve as food for humans, which leads people to become vegetarians and not eat animal products. And in response to this, we will say that this method is not the way of the Torah, and on the contrary, the Torah permitted us to eat the meat of kosher animals and birds (after preparing it for consumption according to the rules of halacha, such as shechita (slaughter according to halacha), salting, checking for worms, etc., each type and its issue), and whoever gets agitated with an ideology that opposes this is a heretic of the Torah.

Although we also find certain restrictions on the subject in the Torah, in addition to the topic of the species and items permitted for consumption (which prohibited us from eating fish without scales, and animals that do not chew the cud and do not have split hooves or that do not chew the cud, as well as animals in general, with the exception of seven species, and creeping and flying creatures mentioned in the Torah, and so on) and the conditions under which the animal was killed (by natural death or sick animal – trefa, or there was a problem in the slaughter – nevela) and the parts in which (such as blood, the fat, and the sciatic nerve), and as we find (according to one of the opinions) that the generation of the desert was forbidden to eat meat out of desire and was allowed to eat meat only in the form of shlamim offerings, and in our days we know of the custom in Israel to avoid eating meat on the days of destruction (see Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim, section 561, paragraph 9, and the custom of Sephardim not to eat in Av until the tenth day, but on the day of Rosh Chodesh itself they eat, as mentioned in Chazon Ovadia, Four Fasts, p. 263), and there is also a higher level of Kabbalists and Perushim (devotees disconnected from materialism) who do not eat meat on weekdays, except on Shabbat Kodesh and festivals, but most people do not follow this practice, but rather must eat meat and other healthy foods to gain strength for the service to Hashem.

To understand the halachic status of this new milk alternative, it helps to first understand how it is produced.

Unlike plant-based milks, which only simulate dairy by blending or soaking oats, nuts, or soy beans, this new method uses a process known as precision fermentation.

In precision fermentation, microorganisms—like yeast or fungi—are engineered to produce real dairy proteins. Scientists identify the cow's gene for a specific milk protein, chemically synthesize and copy that DNA sequence in the lab, and insert it into the microbe so it becomes programmed to make that protein. The microbes are then grown in large fermentation tanks and fed sugars, and as they multiply, they naturally produce the target protein. Afterward, the microbes are filtered out, and the purified protein—chemically identical to whey or casein from cow's milk—can be used to create dairy products without involving any cows.

Over ten years ago, in an article titled Is Lab-Grown Meat Kosher?, we discussed the then-emerging question regarding the status of lab-grown meat. However, there is a critical difference between how the two are created.

Whereas cultivated meat is produced from actual animal cells, which remain present (albeit minutely) in the final product, lab-grown milk is created by inserting a synthetically produced gene into a microbial organism, such as yeast or fungus. No actual cells from a cow are used in the production of the product.

Based on this distinction, although kosher-certifying organizations generally consider lab-grown meat to be meat (and kosher if it originates from a kosher animal), this lab-made milk is not milk at all. From a halachic perspective, just because something tastes like milk or meat does not mean it is treated as such if it is not, in fact, real milk or meat.

Moreover, milk found in a cow's udder after it has been slaughtered in a kosher manner—even though it is biologically the same milk that would have emerged naturally—is not biblically considered milk, since it never actually left the udder. How much more so with this new "milk," which does not come from a cow at all!

Based on the above, while any components used must obviously be kosher, this new milk is most likely not considered halachically dairy but pareve. Nevertheless, there are still a number of considerations to keep in mind.

What Will People Think?

There is a concept in Jewish law called mar'it ayin (lit. "appearance to the eye"). Certain permitted acts are prohibited simply because observers may mistake them for other, forbidden acts, leading them to either believe that the act is in fact permissible or to view the person negatively. Generally, even if something is forbidden only because of mar'it ayin, it may not be done even in the privacy of one's home.

However, since the reason for this prohibition is only because of how the act can appear to others, if one takes certain necessary precautions, the act is permitted.

A classic example is drinking almond milk with a meat meal: this is permitted only if it is obvious that the milk is non-dairy, such as by leaving the clearly labeled container on the table.

The same applies to this new alternative milk, perhaps even more so than with the current milk alternatives. Since its proteins are chemically identical to dairy, and the final product looks, pours, and cooks like real milk, using it with meat could easily be mistaken for mixing milk and meat. The same applies to cheese produced from these synthetic dairy proteins, which may be visually indistinguishable from regular cheese. In such cases, you would need to clearly indicate that the product is non-dairy—either by keeping the packaging visible or using another obvious sign—so that onlookers are not misled.

Allergens

Another consideration, noted by both kashrutand government organizations, is that while these new dairy products are lactose-free and therefore suitable for those who are lactose intolerant, people who are allergic to dairy proteins (rather than lactose) are likely to react to this new milk as well.

This raises the question of labeling: from a halachic perspective, the product may be pareve, but from an allergen perspective, it may still behave like dairy.

Interestingly, the custom to wear costumes on Purim seems to be relatively recent. The earliest mention of it we have is from early 14th century Italy – by a Rabbi Kalonymus, a scholar, philosopher and translator from Provence. Scholars from then and later noted with some consternation the practice of cross-dressing on Purim (as well as during wedding celebrations) – for men to dress as women and vice versa – which transgresses an explicit Torah prohibition (Deut. 25:2). (In practice, some authorities do permit it – since it is clearly done in jest and not for immoral purposes – but the majority frown upon it or forbid it entirely – see Rama, O.C. 696:8with Mishnah Berurah 30.)

Being that such a practice appears to be less than a millennium old – quite recent by Jewish standards – we do not find early classical sources such as the Talmud addressing the practice or offering reasons for it. However, more recent authorities have come up with some insightful explanations. Below are the primary reasons I have seen:

1. Purim is a Holiday of Concealing

Purim is in truth a hidden holiday. On the outside, it was a string of coincidences which saved the Jews – Ahasuerus's choice of Esther as queen, Mordechai's overhearing the plot to assassinate the king, Ahasuerus's insomnia just before Haman arrived to request Mordechai's hanging, etc. (See here for a brief summary of the story.) In fact, God's name does not even appear in the entire Scroll of Esther (Megillas Esther, or more simply, the Megillah). Yet behind the scenes, it was the Hand of God which truly brought about the salvation. Those discerning enough to perceive it recognized God behind the veils – and understood that even when the world appears to function as normal, following chance and the laws of nature, it is truly God who is in control. Therefore, just as God was hidden during the Purim story yet in truth present, we hide ourselves behind our masks and costumes while we celebrate the salvation. In doing so, we remind ourselves that the world is not what it appears on the outside. Rather, the outside world is nothing more than a façade obscuring the true power of God behind it.

2. Purim is a Holiday of Reversal

In a variation of the above, one of the main themes of Purim is the total reversal of the fate of the Jewish people. The Jews went from a helpless minority threatened with annihilation to a favored class, granted carte blanche to destroy their enemies. Wearing costumes – which entirely transform a person's looks – reflects the Jews' utter transformation – from victim to victor.

3. To Preserve Dignity While Giving Charity

Some suggest a practical reason. Purim is a special day for giving charity. The Talmud writes that we give to "anyone who sticks his hand out" – without inquiring how needy the person actually is (Bava Metziah 78b). Thus, since the poor – and even people who would rather not become known as paupers – would be especially active going out collecting on Purim, the custom arose for them to wear masks to hide their identity and preserve their dignity (Sichos Chachamim, p. 30).

4. Remembering Royal Garments in the Purim Story

Since the Megillah is a story of royalty, crowns, regal robes, and a decorated palace, one of the ways in which we commemorate the miracle is in wearing fancy costumes. The Megillah contains many references to and descriptions of the royal garments the various characters of the story wore (e.g., 5:1, 6:8, 8:15) – as well as a providing a detailed account of the palace decorations during Ahasuerus's party at the beginning of the story. Mordechai in particular went from wearing ash and sackcloth to royal robes; thus, our change of clothing from the ordinary to the gaudy encapsulates the entire Purim story.

5. Remembering Those Who hid their identity

At the end of the Purim story, when Mordechai and the Jews were ascendant, the Megillah describes how many gentiles feigned Jewishness in order to curry favor with the Jews (8:17). This led to the suggestion that our costumes commemorate this amusing historical anomaly. Just as the non-Jews hid their identity, pretending to be Jewish, so too do we wear costumes to hide our identities (Me'am Lo'ez; ArtScroll, Megillas Esther there).

6. National Unity

One of the key elements which brought about the Purim salvation was unity. Haman threatened the Jews because he saw them as a nation "scattered and dispersed" among Ahasuerus's kingdom (Esther 3:8). The Jews were contentious and disunited, many compromising their Jewishness in order to blend in with whichever one of Persia's 127 provinces in which they lived. And as separate and isolated individuals, they were quite vulnerable to the threats of the great masses which sought to destroy them. In response, Esther said to "gather all the Jews" (4:16) – to bring them together, as a single nation, united in God's service. We too wear costumes to hide our individuality. Nobody knows who's inside a gorilla costume. By doing so, we obscure our separateness and individuality – and become a united nation. (See here.)

7. Echoing Esther's Hidden Identity

Hiding our identity behind a mask commemorates the fact that Esther did the same – not telling the king or anyone else she was Jewish (2:10,20).

See here for an interesting discussion on the significance of Purim costumes. See also here for a similar discussion by Rabbi Ari Enkin.

One final comment (at least for those of you who managed to read this far). Although Purim is a joyous day in which we feast and party, it is a holy day as well, in which we are especially close to God. Thus, Jewish authorities advise wearing Shabbat clothes throughout the day (Mishnah Berurah 695:3). This is especially appropriate for synagogue services, as a synagogue is a hallowed location and praying is a form of standing before the King. Thus, although children may certainly dress as they please the entire day, grownups who would like to dress up should reserve it for times of the day other than synagogue services.

First of all, I'm sure you are grateful to your parents (and their parents and their parents) for having had a Seder even in a language you didn't understand. For that reason you know that you are a Jew, and that Jews make a Seder, and that as a Jew you want to understand the Seder that you'll do. When you call your family to wish them a happy Passover may I suggest you thank them for imparting you with an appreciation of Judaism, nostalgically recall with them the special times you've had together on Passover in the past, and tell them that you'll miss them this year on Passover.

As far as reading the Haggadah in Hebrew is concerned, whenever possible, it is very nice to include the original flavor of the Holy language to the Seder and other ceremonies. Grappling with reading and comprehending Hebrew can serve as a challenge to spur our Jewish learning and help us appreciate that Jewishly, there is still very much for us to learn. This might also serve as an impetus to invest time in preparing for the Seder beforehand to become familiar with what well be doing.

That being said, you are certainly correct that the purpose of the Haggadah is to pass the message of Passover from generation to generation Haggadah means to relate and publicize. Therefore it can (and should) be said in any language in order for the participants to understand what's being passed on. This is particularly true regarding children. The Haggadah should be said not only in a language they understand, but in a way they can relate to with challenging questions, songs, drama and suspense.

Many people try to find a workable balance between reading the Hebrew vs. comprehension. Each section can be read and translated; some can be read in the original while others not; or most can be in another language while central parts are recited or sung in Hebrew like the four questions. Here it is important not only to understand the questions, but to hear the answer. At the Seder, surprise your friends who know how to read the questions in Hebrew by asking them if they know the answer to the questions even in English. Do your homework!

The Aish Rabbi Replies

The Jewish people are not stealing anything. They were granted the Land of Israel by God, as is stated in Genesis 15:7 and 21:12.

In fact, the very first thing that God said to Abraham was: "Go from your land of your birth… to the land that I will show you, and I will make you into a great nation" (Genesis 12:1). When Abraham and Sarah got to Israel, God promised them, "To your descendants have I given this land from the river of Egypt to the Euphrates River." In God's eyes the deal was considered set in stone, which is why He said "I have given this land" in the past tense, as if the thing were already done and impossible to undo. (Genesis 15:18, Rashi)

Why did God promise to give Israel to the Jews? Why didn't God give them Uganda or Argentina instead?

Because Israel has a special holiness that other lands do not have. Even from before the giving of the Torah, Jerusalem and Israel had taken on great religious significance. The Talmud says that creation began in Jerusalem, and the world radiated outward from this place. Great religious leaders always lived there, such as Malchitzedek (Genesis 14:15). It is there that the patriarch Isaac was bound for sacrifice, and it is there that his son Jacob dreamt of the ladder ascending to heaven.

This inherent holiness is described in the Talmud, which says, "Even the air of the Land of Israel makes one wise."

The first words that Rashi, the preeminent Torah commentator, writes on the first verse in Genesis, is to ask why the Torah begins with the Creation account, and not from the first mitzvah (which is to sanctify the new month)? Rashi explains that the purpose of the Creation story is to establish God's ownership over the world, in order to justify Jewish possession of the Land of Israel. The land belongs to God. He can give it to whomever He wants, and take it away from whomever He wants. God gave it to the Jews.

Although Abraham knew that God had given him the land, he nevertheless chose peaceful measures and paid exorbitant amounts for a field in Hebron (Genesis 23:4, Rashi). This became the Jewish holy site, the Tomb of the patriarchs, 4,000 years ago. Similarly, Jacob purchased Shechem (Genesis 33:19), and King David bought Jerusalem (2-Samuel 24:24). Note that Jerusalem has been the Jewish capital for more than twice as many centuries as Islam has even existed!

In our time, the Jews have returned to the Land of Israel on the grounds that their ancestors not only bought this land, but were promised it by God. Moreover, the League of Nations was aware of your friend's claims, and yet they declared Israel to be the homeland of the Jewish people in 1922. The United Nations did the same in 1947. And yet the Jewish claim to the land is far deeper than any political vote by the nations of the world.

There are no simple solutions to complex problems, especially when religious beliefs and national identities are at stake. But only through an objective understanding of history, can we hope to arrive at a just and lasting solution.

The first thing to know is that the Torah consists of two parts: The Written Torah, and the Oral Torah.

The Written Torah totals 24 books, including the Five Books of Moses and the prophetic writings – e.g. Isaiah, Jeremiah, Psalms, Proverbs, etc.

The Five Books of Moses – comprised of Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy – was written down by Moses in 1273 BCE, and includes all 613 commandments (mitzvahs).

Perhaps part of the reason for your confusion is that the Five Books of Moses has many names. It is referred to as the Bible (meaning "book" in Greek), the Chumash (Hebrew for "fifth"), the Pentateuch (Greek for "five scrolls"), or generically "Torah" – Hebrew for "instructions," because its purpose is to instruct. (Jews consider it insulting to call it the Old Testament, as this implies a New Testament, which Jews reject.)

But whatever the name, it refers to the best-selling, longest-running book in the history of mankind.

So what is the Oral Torah? Its name derives from the fact that it was not allowed to be formally written down but had to be taught orally. It contains the explanations of the Written Torah. One cannot be understood without the other.

In 190 CE, persecution and exile of the Jewish people threatened the proper transmission of the Oral Torah. Therefore, Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi compiled written notes on the Oral Torah called the "Mishnah" (Hebrew for "teaching"). Rabbi Yehudah arranged the Mishnah into six sections: Laws of Agriculture, Festivals, Damages, Marriage, Purity, and Offerings. Rabbi Yehudah wrote the Mishnah in code form, so that students would still require the explanation of a rabbi – since this information was meant to remain oral.

In 500 CE, the Jewish people again suffered an uprooting of their communities, and two Babylonian rabbis – Rav Ashi and Ravina – compiled a 60-volume record of rabbinic discussions on the Mishnah, called the "Gemara." Together, the Mishnah and Gemara comprise what is commonly called the "Talmud."

The Oral Torah also includes the Midrash, an explanation of the Written Torah, comprising both ethical and legal components. Much of this material is also contained in the Talmud.

The Oral Torah also includes the works of Kabbalah, a tradition of mystical secrets of the metaphysical universe received by Moses at Mount Sinai. It was first published as "The Zohar" by R' Shimon bar Yochai (170 CE), and elucidated by the Arizal (1572 CE).

Torah is not to be regarded, however, as an academic field of study. It is meant to be applied to all aspects of our everyday life – speech, food, prayer, etc. Over the centuries great rabbis have compiled summaries of practical law from the Talmud. Landmark works include: "Mishneh Torah" by Maimonides (12th century Egypt); "Shulchan Aruch" by Rabbi Yosef Karo (16th century Israel); "Mishnah Berurah" by the Chafetz Chaim (20th century Poland).

I hope this helps solve your confusion. Now only one thing remains – to go out and learn the entire Torah!

"Well," I like to answer, "For starters, it depends what you think the point is."

One thing that I think is often missing from general conversation about Jewish hot-button issues, including but not limited to questions surrounding women's attire specifically and "roles" more generally, is a careful attention to the multifaceted sources that have shaped our laws through the centuries. Our halachic heritage is built through an intricate mix of text and real-world practice, and neither should be minimized.

The issue of hair covering is no different –in fact, is a prime example.

On one hand, there are those who view hair covering entirely as a matter of communal custom or even of personal practice: "What a woman wears on her head is no one's business but her own!" Certainly, that is true, at the very least in a practical sense. On the other hand, a friend of mine recently referred to "the halachot of sheitels," apparently in the sense of specific guidelines about what sort of sheitel is or is not permitted. If there could be such a thing as a set of halachic guidelines about what a woman must wear on her head, then is it really only her business or is it "halacha's business"? If it is halacha's business, does that mean other people might have a responsibility to educate women who don't seem to be following halacha?

As is so often the case in matters of Jewish tradition – though we might often forget this truth about our tradition – both extremes could be right, or at least could claim basis in the sources, as could many other nuanced perspectives.

As I like to put it when asked about sheitels (and it is not only the unaffiliated, or non-Jewish, who ask), hair covering is a particularly tricky subject to pin down for several reasons, the first being that the Torah source is derived backwards. There is no pasuk that says a married woman must cover her hair; rather, the requirement is inferred from the fact that one of the acts prescribed for the sotah ritual is that the kohen must uncover[1] her hair.[2]

How does the uncovering of the sotah's hair lead to a conclusion that it must be required for married women to cover their hair? Rashi on the Gemara offers two explanations, with different implications as far as our ability to draw conclusions about the "point" of hair covering.

In his first explanation, Rashi suggests that the sotah's hair is uncovered specifically as a midah keneged midah punishment: presumably, she beautified herself for her paramour, including uncovering her hair, so she is punished by being shamed in the same way. According to this explanation, one might well suggest that the purpose of hair covering has something to do with modesty – i.e. not making oneself alluring through exposure/styling of hair – and assess potential covers within the question of how modest they are.

The second explanation, and the one Rashi himself prefers, is that the need to uncover the sotah's hair indicates that it had until that moment been covered. In this approach, the pasuk is understood to imply the fact that married women (such as a sotah) must cover their hair - but it tells us nothing about the reason. One might, if we understand the Gemara this way, completely ignore any questions of relative modesty and simply make sure there is some object on a woman's head.[3]

This second perspective seems to fit nicely with those authorities – as I understand it, those most widely accepted by Ashkenazi communities – who wrote that the only requirement was for a woman to cover her natural hair. (See Shiltei Giborim on Rif Shabbos 29a – cited by the Rema in his Darchei Moshe commentary, Orach Chaim 303.)

Those who find this unsatisfying might then speculate as to the reason, and perhaps that is how we get to those perspectives which suggest hair covering is for the woman herself, to be aware and know she has something on her head, as an extra barrier between herself and the men around her now that she is married and has let her modesty guard down, so to speak, in her relationship with her husband. (This is a perspective I hear often, in various permutations, but I am unaware of any source for it earlier than the past century.) Whatever we might speculate about the reason, however, if we have no fundamental reason attached to the requirement in our fundamental halachic sources, then we can assume that halachically any cover will do. Even a wig – maybe even a beautiful one, and maybe even a glamorous or alluring style. Those questions as to style would then be best left to an individual woman's sensitivities as to how she wishes to present herself to the world in general; indeed, her choice alone, perhaps with guidance from her chosen mentors.

However, other scholars have focused on Rashi's first explanation, and extrapolated a reason from it that might well have implications not just for the question of wearing a sheitel but for questions of its cut and style. If the sotah is punished for having used her hair to look beautiful for a man she should not have been trying to attract, we might then conclude that the requirement to cover is actually a requirement that a married woman not use hair to make herself beautiful in front of other men.

If this is the "point" of the practice, it may indeed be defeated by wearing a wig. For instance, Rabbi Avraham ben Tzvi Hirsch Teomim takes just this approach and argues that a wig, being hair, is exactly as sensually suggestive as the hair attached to a woman's head.[4] In his view, wigs fundamentally do not satisfy the Torah requirement and it is therefore forbidden on a Torah level for a married woman to go in public with nothing but a wig on her head.

One might also take a similar approach and suggest that wigs are valid head coverings according to Torah law, but only if they are not unduly attractive. Defining such parameters would of course be enormously difficult, and definitions even of the Torah law could end up being somewhat subjective, but in theory this approach would represent a viable interpretation of halacha.

So far, we have focused only on the question of whether a wig – or certain kinds of wigs – would satisfy the Torah requirement for married women to cover their heads. There is, however, another level to the mitzvah, and therefore another level of complication.

The Gemara in Ketuvot further tells us that there is a dat Yehudit element to the mitzvah that demands more than the Torah obligation. According to many scholars, "dat Yehudit" refers to the norms of actual practice of Jewish women specifically in the context of modesty. (See, for instance, Rambam Hilchot Ishut 24:12) This part of the requirement is also difficult to define, and an attempt to do so –including an attempt to determine whether dat Yehudit can change, and to what extent and through what mechanism – would be way beyond the scope of this article. We should, however, remember if the norm in a certain community has been that married women do not go in public with an uncovered wig, or perhaps only wear those of particular styles that are not considered "immodest," then it would gain a level of prohibition in that community even if the Torah fundamentally allows all wigs.

There is one further avenue of halachic analysis that agrees wigs would fundamentally satisfy both Torah law and the requirements of dat Yehudit, but objects to them because of other halachic concerns. The most commonly discussed secondary halachic issue is the concern of marit ayin, that people who see a woman in a wig will think she is not covering her hair. (See the responsa of Be'er Sheva, siman 18.) Many argue this concern doesn't apply to wigs, but others believe it does – thereby classifying uncovered wigs as a violation at least of Rabbinic law.

In this realm as well, the style or quality of the wig – how "natural" it looks – might well play a role in determining the actual halacha: If one is of the position that a wig satisfies the Torah requirement of covering, but violates marit ayin, then one might also say a wig which is obviously a wig is perfectly fine but that one which is so beautiful as to be mistaken for real hair is forbidden – not because it is too beautiful or immodest, but because it looks like she is violating the requirement to have some object on her head. How do we define "obviously"? This, too, offers a lot of room for subjectivity not just in the realm of "spirit of the law," but in applying the "letter of the law" as well.

(On the side that argues wigs do not violate marit ayin, I highly recommend reading the teshuva of Rav Moshe Feinstein in which he compares women wearing wigs to men shaving with a razor that satisfies technical halacha but might lead people to think he used a forbidden razor. He applies the same considerations to his halachic analyses regarding both genders, and suggests that a man who would shave with such a razor, but doesn't want his wife to wear a wig, is a hypocrite. See Igros Moshe Even HaEzer volume II siman 12.)

So, what do we do with all these explanations and interpretations and opinions?

The first time I ever taught the halachot of hair covering, I was a first-year high school teacher overwhelmed with preparation and assigned my students to research various topics before I had had the chance to review the sources carefully myself. This led to an awkward moment when one of the students assigned to the topic of hair covering asked me "So which opinion do you follow, Mrs. Rudolph?" and I couldn't remember, at that moment, which posek it was. Over a decade later, I have the confidence to give the real answer: I cover the way I do because my mother does and because that is the norm among those whose Jewish philosophy and practice most aligns with mine. I would wear a sheitelif I found them comfortable, and I do wear scarves that allow just a little hair to show, not because I find one particular interpretation of the sources most compelling, but because my community has adopted the halachic rulings of some poskim over others. This is where text and practice intertwine, and rather than being embarrassed, I am proud to be a part of a mesorah with such depth and breadth, with such intricate thought and analysis, with room for so many different practices – though not all – to be considered "halachic."

It would be tragic, as well as inaccurate, for us to relegate this entire area of halacha to the realm of "personal choice" or "custom" and forget that there are real d'Oraita and d'Rabbanan laws at play. On the other hand, it would also be tragic – and inaccurate – for us to forget the richness of our halachic heritage, to crawl into the box of our personal community and psak, and forget that there are other valid halachic approaches. And what would be the most tragic of all would be to not only forget that this area of halacha does indeed leave room for a wide variety of practices, but to vilify those who follow a different psak without taking the time to study and ask and learn what might be behind what they do.

Teaching others one's own perspective is great; arguing the merits of one approach versus another is fun and an integral part of our tradition of Torah study. But shaming those who disagree is never okay.

Sephardic tradition, strongly influenced by prominent rabbis like Rav Ovadia Yosef, generally favors scarves, hats, or snoods over wigs (sheitels) for married women, viewing them as more modest. While wigs are common in Ashkenazi communities, many Sephardic authorities consider them unsuitable because they resemble natural hair, contradicting the purpose of covering.