A very helpful (yes, really!) technician at Verizon diagnosed our network problems as a flaky router, so he sent us a new one and we swapped it in today. The old router had two features that I found useful: I could name devices on the network, and the "my network" list showed me everything that had connected since the last router restart, not just the currently-connected devices. These, particularly in combination, were useful for monitoring my network. (Why yes, since I can be punished for anything done from my IP address even if I didn't do or authorize it, and since no security that is still usable is perfect, I do care.)

The new router lacks both of these features; it shows currently-connected devices by MAC address (and IP address), but short of my maintaining the name-MAC mappings externally, that's of limited utility. And it doesn't tell me if a neighbor found his way onto my network while I wasn't watching. Now my neighbors seem like decent folks, and in a different legal environment I'd rather be the sort of person who shares my spare bandwidth with anybody who needs it, but that's not the point.

Oh well. I guess I am now relying more strongly on decent neighbors and passwords, as I haven't found anything like router logs that tell me this stuff.

I know that some of my readers are pretty security-conscious. How do you handle this?

The Daf Yomi calendar says that today's daf is Meilah 25. Its absence from my English translation (Soncino) and other online copies I found was a complete mystery to me. (Had I been looking more carefully, I might have noticed the discrepancy in the header of this supposed Meilah 25.) So I prepared something else for this morning and then asked on Mi Yodeya, where I learned that the overseers of the Daf Yomi cycle decided to combine this tractate with some shorter items -- a couple pages of Kinim and then tractate Tamid, whose first page is 25b -- without necessarily changing the name. How odd.

So this week I offer a teaching from Pirkei Avot, which we read during the omer, the period from Pesach to Shavuot. Next week I expect to get back to the regular routine. This is one of my favorites:

Ben Zoma said: who is wise? He who learns from every person, as it is said: "from all who taught me have I gained understanding". Who is mighty? He who subdues his evil inclination, as it is said: "he that is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he that rules his spirit than he that takes a city". Who is rich? He who rejoices in his lot, as it is said: "when you eat of the labor of your hands happy shall you be". Who is honored? He who honors his fellow, as it is said: "for them that honor me I will honor". (Avot 4:1)

A mishna on today's daf discusses deriving benefit from items that were dedicated to the temple. (This is not the case of theft but of "borrowing" without permission.) Rabbi Akiva says that one is always liable for appropriation (so long as a minimum value was derived), but the sages rule that for an item that deteriorates with use, one is liable only after one has caused deterioration. For items that do not deteriorate, however, one is liable immediately. For example, if you derive benefit from a necklace, ring, or golden cup you are liable, but if you derive benefit from clothing or an axe you are liable only after you have caused wear and tear. (18a)

I read in the Jewish Chronicle last week that this weekend Rabbi Ethan Tucker from Mechon Hadar will be at Beth Shalom leading assorted programs. I know Mechon Hadar from Yeshivat Hadar, which has an enticing one-week summer program that I haven't made it to yet. (Maybe next year.) By all accounts these people "get" lay empowerment and community/chavurot and engagement, and I'd like to both experience more of that and learn more about how to make that happen. (In my case, within the context of my congregation.)

So anyway, I'm happy to learn that Rabbi Tucker will be visiting. I'll definitely go Friday night, and they're having assorted programs on Saturday afternoon, some of which I plan to go to. There's a brochure on Beth Shalom's site and everything is open to the public. Aside from that and the Chronicle article, I've seen zero publicity.

Maybe today we have Internet access for more than 15 minutes at a time? Let's find out.

(If I haven't replied to something you expected me to, that's why. New modem should arrive tomorrow. Astonishingly and much to their credit, Verizon tech support was helpful and quite competent in troubleshooting this. It's possible that the secret is to go down the "Mac" tree instead of the "Windows" tree, though I've been doing that for a few years and this is the best I've experienced.)

We went to see The Hunger Games this afternoon. I have read the first of the three books. I thought the movie was a good treatment of the book; they missed some opportunities but they added some nice bits too. (I don't think the rest of this post contains any spoilers that weren't in the trailer.)

The Rue plot in the book was very powerful, and I was disappointed that it was so highly abbreviated in the movie. I understand that a movie can't contain everything in the book and still be a civilized length, and they did a good job of trimming in general, but this one stood out as a misfire.

The book is written in the first person (first-person present tense, mostly, which is unconventional). This means that in the book you only see and know what the narrator knows. In the movie they showed some of what was going on "backstage" and I found those parts to be well-done, laying the groundwork for the political issues to come. They added rather than detracting -- not at all a safe bet when screenwriters decide to innovate.

Because of the POV, in the book the game-makers are largely invisible -- we see their work but don't see them. In the movie I thought the lead game-maker was particularly strong; seeing how what was going on in the arena affected him added a level of story not possible in the book. And oh, his final scene... nice touch.

A nit: I do wonder how Katniss was able to stay at full draw for so long, with a bow strong enough to kill a person, in that scene at the end. Especially given her state at that time. Just sayin'. (Also, what are the aerodynamic properties of silver arrows? The book referred to them as silver too, and it struck me as peculiar there too.)

The trailers I remember were:

• The Avengers: meh
• Spiderman: looked like it could be fun (but can wait for NetFlix)
• (something like) The House at the End of the Street: no (horror's not my thing)
• What to Expect When You're Expecting: looks very cheesy (that would be a no)
• some Twilight movie: no
• Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter: please make it stop!

I was pleased to read in today's local paper that, finally, there will be justice for Nikko the husky. One good thing came out of a sad incident, at least.

( possible trigger: child died, dog got blamed )

A nazarite takes a vow for a period of time and, at the end, brings offerings. The mishna teaches: if one set aside money for his nazarite offerings it cannot be used for other purposes, but the law of misappropriation does not apply. If he died first and the money was unspecified (that is, which coins were designated for which purpose) it goes to a special fund. If the money was specifically designated, then the following things happen to it: the money for a burnt-offering is used for a burnt-offering (which goes wholly to God); the money for a peace-offering is used for a peace-offering that must be eaten within a day; and the money for a sin-offering (which no longer applies) is cast into the Dead Sea (that is, the coins are destroyed). (11a)

Someone asked me this morning if any coins have been found in the Dead Sea. I have no idea. I wonder whether, at least for gold, anything would be left after all that time and considering the properties of that sea.

Edit: I just asked a related question about how this was managed over on Mi Yodeya (aka Jewish Life and Learning).

This week was my congregation's annual shabbaton. We take over a cabin in the "suburbs" of Zelienople and have a grand time. This year was the largest I've seen at 42 people, and all of them seemed to be engaged in it. It was great.

When nobody feels pressure (got to get upstairs to the bar mitzvah, got to beat the lunch guests home, whatever), we can relax and just take our time with services. I don't get that very often and I treasure it. We had kabbalat shabbat out on the porch in the fading sun (plus there were porch lights). Saturday morning after the service we had an energetic discussion of part of the parsha (Tazria [1]), interrupted only by our need to walk up to the main building for lunch (but it continued later in smaller pockets).

Speaking of which: ( Read more... )

Friday night we had a study session around the second chapter of Pirke Avot (teachings of the fathers, where a lot of the sayings we "all know" come from). We broke into pairs or trios to study for a while and then each group shared something it learned. We've used this study method before and I find it works well; it's harder to do in-depth study with 42 people all together, but by doing it this way I learned things both from my group and the larger group.

Saturday afternoon we tried something new. My rabbi asked a few of us to prepare chugim, short sessions to run concurrently, so people could learn what they want. I taught (well, lead a study of) a section of talmud -- how various rabbis concluded their individual prayer at the end of the t'filah. (B'rachot 16b-17a, for anyone following along at home.) I approached this from the prayer context, not the talmud context -- we have this fixed text that we say every service and then we're supposed to say our own prayer, but maybe not everybody is comfortable doing that. The idea was to present a range of things that are recorded in our tradition; maybe people would get some new ideas.

I had not realized, and did not think to ask at the beginning, that no one there other than me had actually studied any talmud before -- maybe they'd seen material that came from the talmud, but they'd never looked at a page of talmud before. I, not knowing this, gave only the scantest of introductions to talmud itself (here's what the full page looks like, here's where we are, here's an interlinear translation to follow 'cause nobody here including me is going to read the Aramaic straight from the page). When I learned at the end that this was new to everybody, part of me wondered if I should have given more of an intro -- but I think not, on reflection. I helped a group of people just dive in to something that many consider intimidating; I think that probably left them all feeling better, and more confident, than a "talmud 101 using this text as an example" class would have been. I am becoming a big fan of the "just do it" school of teaching.

( footnote )

Today's daf is Meilah 4, which is in the middle of a long discussion of the first mishna. Rather than trying to jump straight into 4, I'm going to start with an overview, with many thanks to meirbg for explaining this in dafyomi.

Meilah means misappropriation of Temple property for one's own benefit. For example, if one derives benefit from a burnt offering, which is wholly consumed on the altar, he is culpable. (There is a minimum value before this applies.) One who is guilty has to repay plus a fifth (as for other property transgressions), and also bring a guilt-offering if the act was unintentional.

The mishna begins by describing certain cases of performing the sacrificial ritual incorrectly, rendering the offering invalid. This kind of error is a case of misappropriation, for the animal can no longer be used for the purpose for which it was brought. So even priests with the best of intentions can transgress this if they're not careful. (2a)

Recently some local congregations have been banding together for yom tov services. Friday's service for the last day of Pesach was pretty unsatisfactory in a lot of ways, but in this post I'm going to write about just one practice, something I have seen in other congregations too and that needs to end.

Most blessings begin with a six-word formula, followed by the text that varies. The morning service contains a bunch of these, thanking God for making us free, lifting up the fallen, giving strength to the weary, and more. (There are 15 of these in a row.) The congregation says these together. In Friday's service, the leader decreed that the congregation would chant these in "Hebrish" -- first six words in Hebrew, then chanting the varying part in English.

I previously wrote about the horror that is chanted English prayer. This isn't that. This "Hebrish" practice, I've been told when I've asked, is motivated by a desire for inclusion: people don't know the Hebrew, the reasoning goes, so this makes prayer more accessible. Sounds admirable, right? But it's misguided and, dare I say, harmful. First off, the transliteration is right there in the siddur next to the Hebrew, precisely to make the Hebrew more accessible. But, more fundamentally, this practice serves to keep people down. How are they ever to learn the Hebrew if we never do it? Are we supposed to settle for the current state and never move past it? How would I have become proficient in the Hebrew prayers if, when I was trying to grow, my congregation had kept me on the English?

The Rambam (Maimonides) famously taught that the highest level of tzedakah (charity, loosely) is to help a poor person to get a job, rather than to give him money. Giving him money sustains him for a time; getting him a job helps him break out of the clutches of poverty (we hope). The Reform movement holds this up as a key value, even placing it in the section of the siddur where we study torah in the morning. Why, then, do we refuse to apply that same principle to those who are poor in knowledge? Why is it better to give them the handout of English prayer instead of helping them to pray in Hebrew?

In the past I have remained silent to avoid the appearance of challenging our leaders. I have tried and failed to persuade leaders who do this to reconsider. Friday, when they announced this and started into those prayers, I said to myself quietly "no more" and proceeded to chant the prayers in Hebrew. The long-time member of my congregation sitting next to me said "good for you!" and joined me. We were not disruptive, but I have high hopes that maybe, next time, he'll be sitting next to someone else and he too will say "no more" and forge ahead, and maybe someone sitting next to him will follow. And maybe, eventually, we'll be able to help people break out of the bonds of illiteracy, instead of continuing to keep them down by catering to their current weaknesses. We've just celebrated z'man cheruteinu, the season of our freedom, and it is time to apply that to our people now and not just looking back at Mitzrayim.

If reading the Hebrew text directly is too challenging for some, the transliteration is readily available. Or they could quietly read the English the way I quietly read the Hebrew. (I do that when I'm at services that are above my level, like last week at Village Shul.) But let's stop telling our congregants that they're too uneducated to handle the Hebrew; that only serves to reinforce the idea until they no longer want to try.

Courtesy of shalmestere:

The mishna teaches: if a person brings a suspensive guilt-offering (brought in a case where there is doubt about whether he sinned) and then learns that he did not sin, if the animal has not yet been slaughtered then Rabbi Meir says it can go out to pasture (that it, is returns to its unconcescrated state). The sages, however, say that it is put out to pasture until it acquires a blemish (making it unfit for the altar) and then it is sold, with the proceeds going to the temple. R. Eliezer says it is still offered, if not for this sin then for another. The g'mara tries to reconcile the positions of R. Meir and the rabbis, raising additional considerations. One is: was the man so troubled that his conscience compelled him to make a binding resolution? Another: did the doubt arise from witnesses who might turn out to be false, so the person himself was never unsure, only the community? These factors matter, the g'mara says. (23b mishna, 24a g'mara)

I wonder if R. Eliezer had young children when he taught this: ok, you didn't sin that sin, but surely you've done something you need to atone for!

We were in Toronto for the first days of Pesach. I had previously had an excellent experience at Beit HaMinyan (not just the one, but that's the one I wrote about), so I was looking forward to going there for Shabbat/Pesach morning. I checked their web site before leaving Pittsburgh to make sure they were in the same place; thus reassured, I went there Saturday morning to...an empty, locked building. They're very friendly and welcoming when they're there, but maybe not so great at updating their web site. Bummer. :-(

So I fell back to the Village Shul (Aish HaTorah), a place I'd been once before. This time, as last, I found them to be not too welcoming; this time I knew where to go in the building so the indifferent man standing at the entrance didn't hinder me, but nor did he respond to my greeting. At the kiddush (which was a standing-around affair this time, not a sit-down one), not a single person greeted me, even when I made eye contact. It can be hard for me to approach random people and start conversations; I greeted some and usually got responses but no one engaged. I don't know what (if anything) I was doing wrong; I think it was fairly obvious that I wasn't a regular, but I wasn't inappropriate in any way I could determine.

But all that said, I'm very glad I went for one reason: Tal.

Ok, I need to back up. T'filat Tal, aka the prayer for dew, is said exactly once during the year, on the morning of Pesach, in the musaf service. I had never heard it before. The Reform movement doesn't do musaf and didn't import that part into another part of the service (like is done with some other parts), and when we're in Toronto I don't always make it to Yom Tov services (but I insist on Shabbat). It's possible that I was at a Conservative service for Pesach once, and if so either they didn't do it or they didn't do anything special with it and I didn't notice.

So, this is either the first time I've encountered this prayer or the first time it registered. And it did in fact register. A resonant text (which I am unable to find online, help?), a beautiful and fitting melody (which I can't find a good version of online), and just the right amount of congregational engagement (a few words sung together at the end of each stanza) all came together into a heartfelt but not over-the-top prayer that felt entirely right to me. Wow.

And I think it needs all of those. As I said, the Reform movement doesn't do this text -- but let me predict how it would go down if we did. Because it's unfamiliar and people can't be assumed to be fluent, we would read (not sing) it, in English. Perhaps responsively, alternating stanzas. And it would fall completely flat, done that way. I'm not fluent and I'd never seen this text before either, but I listened to it in Hebrew while reading the English translation, and that worked. If I didn't need the translation then that'd be even better, but the text I read and the text I hear don't need to be the same language and that's just fine. Alas, mine seems to be a small-minority position in my movement, so I will probably not get the opportunity to experience this prayer in that setting, which makes me sad.

( some service anthropology )

The mishna on today's daf discusses some cases of doubtful transgressions and brings several examples. The first set of examples is: if one isn't sure if he ate forbidden fat, or if he is sure he did but isn't sure if he ate enough to be liable, or if there was before him forbidden fat and permitted fat and he ate one but doesn't know which is which -- in all these cases he is liable for a guilt-offering because of the doubt. The g'mara spends the next two pages discussing this and casting doubt on the case of one piece of fat of unknown status. Another example where he owes a guilt-offering is if he did work and isn't sure if it was Shabbat at the time or a weekday. (17a-b)

I had thought that this mishna would shed light on the case where one eats food that, it turns out, wasn't kosher, but it doesn't seem to be going in that direction.

Dear Verizon,

Thank you for the phone message alerting me to the impending expiration of the credit card I have on file with you. Unfortunately, the URL you gave in the phone message does not exist, and when I searched your site for "pay" and "credit card" I did not find the page (that you assured me exists) where I could update this information. Your URL contained "pay online", so I had high hopes for "pay".

So then I tried your "contact us" link, which tried mightily to direct me to chat, forums, help, and all manner of unsatisfactory-to-me (but easy-for-you) destinations. (Let's hear it for crowd-sourced support, eh?) When I reached the "send email" option I found a form (not an email address) that, among things, asked for my name, phone number, and email address (twice). It also asked for an account number, but since you bill my credit card directly I've never seen a paper bill and have no idea what that number is -- so that "sample bill" image didn't help. Your form required that I type something there and wouldn't let me type letters, so my plan to signal this with "unknown" was foiled. It wouldn't accept "?" either.

So, I'm sorry that my "account number" of 0 will slow you down, but you left me no choice. I hope you can still manage to respond to me, as otherwise we'll have to wait for Visa to decline a payment to you. On the plus side, I'll bet that will get you to talk to me.

By the way, I'd be happy to refer you to web-site developers who could greatly improve the usability of your site for a small investment.

Oh, also, I'm still waiting for the opportunity to spend more money with you each month for FiOS. Surely my neighborhood full of geeks, university folks, and the like would make it profitable for you to run fiber over here. Practically everybody else in the east end seems to have it...

Shefa Gold, a prominent rabbi in the Renewal movement, was in Pittsburgh this weekend. I went to the Shabbat morning service that she led. It was...different.

I went to the Renewal movement's national kallah a few years ago, and most of what I know about their ideas and worship styles comes from that. (Much of the rest comes from reading the Velveteen Rabbi's blog.) At the kallah I encountered a lot of worship motifs that I think of as "new-age", such as drumming, movement/dance, yoga, meditation, and an abundance of creative English readings displacing set liturgy. But I also encountered well-done music that enhanced worship, and a focus on core kavannot (intentions) behind the prayers. At the time I described the kallah as a whole, including both worship and learning, as "decent with a high standard deviation".

So with some trepidation, and a resolve to leave if necessary, I went to the service. There were a couple good ideas there, but also some things that turned me off, so I'm glad this was a one-shot. I didn't walk out, but nor would I go again.

I'm not going to give a detailed chronology, but I have some observations of things that stood out:

( Read more... )

Baldur got another X-ray and an ultrasound today. (We were hoping the traveling ultrasound docs would be available and they were. I had to drop him off for the X-ray in any case.) The pleural effusion is much reduced and they told me to cut the dose of the medicine he's taking for that. The ultrasound told them that his mitral valve is leaking; this is caused by old age but the hyperthyroidism isn't helping. So they said to boost the thyroid medicine to a rate that I understand to be somewhat astonishing (20mg/day of Methimazole, up from a high 15). I asked if I should spread that out (giving it to him three times a day instead of twice); they said no, increase each dose.

Last night and this morning he lapped up tuna juice but didn't eat any solids. They reported that he ate "a couple bites" of canned food while there today. When I got home I gave him some gravy-laden food and he showed actual interest for the first time this week, so I take that as a good sign.

When a person is required to bring a sin-offering sometimes the offering is specified (and the same for everybody), and sometimes it depends on the person's means. The mishna states: the following bring an offering of higher or lesser value (if rich or poor, respectively): one who refuses to give evidence, one who breaks the word of his lips (supported by an oath), one who in error enters the sanctuary while in a state of ritual impurity, a woman after confinement (I think this means after she gives birth), and a leper. (10b)

The g'mara here does not draw out any common themes among these people. What does one who refuses to testify have in common with a leper, for instance?

Baldur is still lethargic -- a lot of lying around, barely moving, not eating -- but last night he came upstairs and jumped up on the bed. So, mixed signals there.

The blood tests came back today. The CBC is all normal -- no anemia (yay! the fluid isn't internal bleeding!), no elevated white-cell counts (infection). His BUN (kidney number) is slightly up (45, vs. 38 a few months ago); for comparison, Embla and Erik were both into three digits at the end. Kriatinine (the other kidney number) is normal. T4, the hyperthyroid number, is high at 5.4 (his highest reading so far), despite the fact that he's getting 15mg of Methimazole a day (this is abnormally high). That's transdermal, though, because something in the pill makes him throw up, and transdermal doesn't have perfect absorption. But still...

The drugs he's on are Enalapril (the heart medicine) and Furosemide (the diuretic).

I talked with both vets tonight -- the one who saw him yesterday and my regular one. My vet is going to find out whether imaging his heart would tell us anything we could use. Other than that, we keep doing what we're doing and give the drugs time to work.

Thanks for all the replies to yesterday's post.

Yesterday Baldur suddenly became lethargic and uninterested in food (but was and is drinking water). He'd been fine Saturday, jumping into my lap and gobbling up food. Then, Sunday, nothing, and when I picked him up to put him in my lap he jumped right back down. I wondered if he'd had a stroke or heart attack; Dr. Google didn't seem to think so so I didn't go to an emergency vet last night, but today I took him to my vet's office. My vet wasn't in, but I saw another one in the practice who has seen Baldur before.

They took his blood pressure and the readings were astonishing; this high-blood-pressure kitty had below-average readings today. A chest X-ray showed pulmonary edema and pleural effusion -- fluid in the tissue of his lungs and in the chest cavity. (There was actually enough fluid that we couldn't see his heart.) The good news is that there are no tumors; the bad news is that, well, he's got fluid where it shouldn't be. Heart disease is a possible effect of hyperthyroidism (and old age). The tentative diagnosis is hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. Blood tests should tell us more tomorrow, including how his kidneys are doing.

So he's on some new medicines now, a heart medicine and a diuretic to try to draw out some of that fluid, and I'm pushing vitamins and watered-down food into him via syringe so he gets some nutrients. This vet didn't talk with me about prognosis; I assume my vet will.

I did ask the vet about the sudden onset, since it sounded like he was describing progressive diseases (and the net agreed when I got home and looked). He said that cats are really good at hiding problems until they become so overwhelming that they can't any more. So Baldur has probably been feeling unwell for some time (days? weeks? dunno), and I couldn't tell. Poor guy! I hope the meds help.

(Today's daf is 3, but I'm starting at the beginning instead.)

This tractate begins with a list of 36 transgressions for which the punishment is being cut off (see below). This list includes: sleeping with one's close relatives (e.g. mother), idolatry, having a familiar spirit (!), desecrating Shabbat, eating blood, eating chametz during Pesach, eating or working on Yom Kippur, and transgressing circumcision. The punishment applies if the transgressions are willful; if unintentional, one is liable to bring a sin-offering. (2a)

As I understand it, the punishment of karet applies when a human court couldn't convict you (lack of warning in a capital case, not enough witnesses, etc). I've seen different interpretations of what this means: that God will cut your life short, or that you are to be exiled (which was often a death sentence), or that you'll be alienated from God. I asked on Judaism.SE about the relationship between karet offenses and death-penalty offenses; it looks like there's overlap but neither is a subset of the other.

I'm interested in answers from all religions/denominations. (Please identify which you're talking about.)

I grew up going to a Roman Catholic church. Collection baskets were passed at Sunday services -- once for the church and, often, a second time for a special purpose (ranging from helping $disaster victims to buying a pipe organ). Members of the congregation were issued envelopes with an identifying number (not name) on the outside, so you could put cash in and still get a tax receipt at the end of the year. Children in religious school were also issued (small) envelopes; they were also numbered and I assume our coins were tallied with our parents' envelopes, but I never asked. Of course, some people (like visitors) just put cash directly into the basket, too.

This always struck me as dicey; how could an organization with regular expenses like heat and salaries and a building manage finances that way, other than by assuming that this year will be like last year? It occurs to me now that there might have also been a pledge system that I, as a child, never saw, but I'm just guessing here.

One of the things I found really refreshing about synagogues is that they have dues. When I found out about this I did a little happy-dance. Yay, no more guesswork! Join the congregation, get a bill, pay it, and everything's good. Right? (Aside: we couldn't pass a basket at Shabbat services even if we wanted to, because doing business and handling money are forbidden on Shabbat.)

Now that I've been part of congregational life for a while, though, I've realized that that's not the end of it by far. There are still special appeals, of course (we help $disaster victims too, after all), but there are also endowment campaigns, special appeals to supplement dues, fancy fund-raising dinners (with ad books, to draw contributions from non-members/businesses), and a myriad of other fund-raising activities. (I know that some congregations have a building fund with its own rules for member payments; we don't, so I don't really know how this works.) There are also fees for certain activities; the biggie here is religious school, which is a separate payment on top of dues.

My congregation -- and I assume this is true pretty much everywhere -- never turns anybody away for lack of ability to pay dues. We'll negotiate a reduced rate, sometimes quite nominal. Some of the other fund-raising is specifically to offset that. A draw from the endowment each year also offsets some expenses. I don't know if the proportion of our expenses paid for by dues is public information so I won't say, but we try to reduce that proportion by building the endowment -- through fund-raising, of course.

All of this makes me wonder when we risk hitting the point of "fund-raising fatigue" for members (I didn't grow up with this as normal so my perspective is unreliable), and what the mix of dues to fund-raising tends to be like elsewhere, and what other (fiscally-responsible) approaches are out there. What do others do? Are synagogues unique in having dues, or do churches have that too (perhaps packaged differently)? If you're a member of a church, does someone sit down with you and say "we expect you to donate $X this year"?

So, readers who belong to congregations of any sort, how do your congregations pay for expenses?

A mishna on the previous page listed animals that are unfit for the altar (and that transmit that unfitness to other animals, apparently). This list included "a harlot's hire". A mishna on today's daf expands on this. If one says to a harlot "take this lamb for your hire", even if there are a hundred lambs they are all forbidden. The g'mara asks about the hundred lambs. This means he offered one lamb as her price and then gave her a hundred lambs, they are all forbidden because they all came by reason of the hire. (29a)

New tractate next week.

The rabbis say that in the time of the moshiach (messiah) Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, will be like Purim. (There's word-play there.) No moshiach yet, but something along those lines (in reverse) is coming up.

I'm part of a group that's doing a pilot evaluation of a new machzor (high-holy-day prayerbook). Tomorrow night we're sort-of having a Kol Nidrei service for the evening of Yom Kippur. Should be interesting! Years ago our morning minyan piloted the new siddur Mishkan T'filah (over several weeks) and I found that process very engaging for me. I'm looking forward to seeing what the new machzor has in store for us.

(Well ok; I have an advance copy of just this part of it and I paged through it tonight. But going through it with a congregation is different.)