I'm not an expert on anything. I try to get my facts straight, but I may not have all the facts, and any conclusions I draw are questionable.~~Preaching on virtues I may not have.~~The late paytan John Hartford wrote, "All I am is a hole in the air / Surrounded all around with teeth and hair." He was indeed a mere hole in the air surrounded all around with teeth and hair and created in God's image. As are you and I, my friend. As are you and I.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Saving gentiles on Shabbat revisited
I posted on a similarish theme some time ago.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Shoveling snow on Shabbat, '09 version
I'm copying and pasting a big chunk of the first version of this post. Not because it's so eloquent that it needs to be repeated, but so that I don't have to bother paraphrasing it. There's some new stuff at the end.
Snowy sidewalks are no big deal in themselves, but they become icy sidewalks after they've been walked on for a while, and those things are dangerous.
When it's necessary to shovel on Shabbat, I always do so, wearing socks on my hands as a shinnui. I haven't asked a rabbi about this, and this is out of respect for the rabbinate--I want to save them the embarrassment of possibly giving the wrong answer.
As a side note, I once told a friend, former and (I hope) future havrusa and/or hevruta, and ethical adviser about this. He (who lives in an apartment where the landlord is responsible for shoveling, so it's not his problem) said he thought this a fine idea. Since it's just me, he said, I should do it without any distinctive Jewish accessories visible. If, however, I were R' Gedalia Dov Schwartz, av beit din of the RCA and the Chicago Rabbinical Council, who lives a few blocks away, I should do it looking like I was R' Gedalia Dov Schwartz so everyone would know it's OK. I take his point, although I should point out that if I were R' Gedalia Dov Schwartz, I wouldn't need his advice.
And now the new stuff. This last Shabbat morning, there was a layer of slush on the sidewalk. I ignored it, since it was Shabbat, and what would the people coming to lunch think? By Sunday morning, the slush had turned into solid ice with footprints.
So let's imagine that someone had injured themselves on the ice that I piously left there, and let's further imagine that I'd passed away and had to face the Heavenly Tribunal.
Members of the Tribunal (M"T): Well, what about this Mr. McNotzreigh who got injured on your ice?
Me: Sorry about that, but only a little, since I was observing Shabbat.
M"T: Very nice.
(I assume the M"T are Orthodox Jews, among whom "very nice" means "yeah, right, whatever.")
Right. Well, very nice. But next time, I'm going to do what needs to be done and forgo the after-the-fact teshuvah.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Thanks, guys
In the past, I mostly davened at home except for Shabbat and yom tov. I'm now going to daven in shul more often. Not with the same sense of urgency as in the eleven months, but several times a week.
Thanks again.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Yiddishkeit and Hebreishkeit in Toronto, Canada (respectively)
This seems odd to me. The title page of R' Abraham Price's Canadian edition of Sefer Hasidim twice refers to Toronto, Canada, as
The reason this seems, as I was just saying, odd to me is that "Toronto" is spelled in Yiddish style, and "Canada" is spelled in Hebrew style.
Anyone out there have any idea why they might have done things this way?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Since they're not doing some sort of touchy-feely (as it were) ecumenical religious discussion, this must be OK
Roman Catholic and Orthodox Jewish officials in New York are mounting an intense lobbying effort to block a bill before the State Legislature that would temporarily lift the statute of limitations for lawsuits alleging the sexual abuse of children. (from Paul Vitello, "Religious Leaders Battle Abuse Bill in New York," New York Times, March 11, 2009; free registration may be needed)
Tip o' the yarmulka to the ever-informative Religion Clause for this post.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Hear hear
Professor Haym Soloveitchik, writing in the Tradition Seforim blog:
Intellectual engagement entails reciprocity of exposure. To criticize others behind a shield of anonymity is to my thinking craven and unworthy of a scholar or talmid hakham.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Oxymorons
While waiting for a minyan recently, I heard someone say "'Frum Conservative Jew' is an oxymoron." I looked up long enough to see what looked like a satisfied smile from the utterer.
Yeahyeahyeah, I've heard it all before. "Reform Judaism" is an oxymoron, "Conservative Judaism" is an oxymoron, "Orthodox Judaism" is an oxymoron, "religious non-Orthodox Jew" is an oxymoron, "Modern Orthodox Jew" is an oxymoron....
This isn't an argument; it's a slogan. (I use the singular since they're all the same.) It's not an enlightening slogan; it won't win anyone over, all it will do is get the speaker a pat on the keppeleh--sorry, the keppi--from those who already agree. And it isn't a clever or original slogan; it's just a cliché (sorry).
It's sad that we're in attack mode so often, and "oxymoron!" as slogan is used in no other mode. And it's incredibly lame.
And yes, I know this isn't just a Jewish thing.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Delicately stated
A devar Torah that I heard this Shabbat ended with something like this (and this isn't a direct quote, but I'm pretty sure I got all the key stuff right): Every life is infinitely precious. Thirteen Israelis were killed in the recent war, and we grieve for all of them. And we thank Hashem that there were no more deaths than that.
Every life is infinitely precious--how beautiful, how very enlightened. A speaker with less delicate sensibilities might have said that every Jewish life is infinitely precious.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Hanukkah candles in hotels
An objection: Shabbos candles and Hanukkah candles aren't dangerous.
My objection to this objection: Well, here in West Rogers Park, at the southwest corner of Sacramento and North Shore, is the former home of some friends of ours. They no longer live there because it was burned out by Shabbos candles. Fortunately, nobody was injured in this case. Yep, this stuff happens.
A continuation of the first objection: And since we do it in our homes, why shouldn't we do it in a hotel.
My answer: Because you should be more careful about risking burning down someone else's building than you are about not burning down your own. Because it isn't yours.
Someone in the shul who thinks lighting in a hotel is an OK idea: But the hotel is liable if your candles start a fire. You're not.
An objection to this: Sure they're liable. But they're also liable if you get burned by the hotel's hot water.
Rolling my eyes: I've heard some pretty good bad analogies, and this must be one of the best bad analogies I've ever heard. You see, if the hotel is liable for burning you with its hot water, there's a certain justice because it's their water. But if it's your flame and the hotel is liable, that justice isn't there. And hot water doesn't, you know, spread the way a flame does. Test it and see. On second thought, don't.
And are we even sure the hotel is liable if your fire burns the place down? Isn't there some sort of stupidity clause (they may not call it that) in the fine print in the check-in document?
My final comment: Whatever.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Badoomp-Clang
Shmoozing in shul (not during the davening), a gentleman told a story about a relative of his who played in a traveling band in the 1930s. Most of the musicians were Jewish; one was black. They called the black one "Shvartze." One day the black musician asked the storyteller's relative what "shvartze" means; the relative answered that it means a person with good rhythm. So the black musician went around telling people, "Hey, I'm a shvartze." The storyteller went on to say, "My ancestor was--."
"Not a nice person," I said, trying to help out.
"No, he was a very nice person. He just sometimes liked to make nasty jokes."
I'm not going to waste my electrons or your time explaining that this was just pure nastiness and not a joke. I only note that this story was considered perfectly acceptable, and downright funny, in an Orthodox synagogue.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Zimmun in Pseudo-German
In Dr. Seligmann Baer's Seder [Siddur on the binding of the recent Israeli reprint] Avodat Yisrael (Rödelheim 1868, 1901), most of the instructions and comments are in Hebrew. Some--but very few--of the instructions are in German transliterated into Hebrew letters, with an orthographic system almost identical to that of Moses Mendelssohn's translation of the Bible. Most of the Hebrew comments are in Rashi script. Words in Hebrew or Aramaic that are meant to be uttered are in block letters, sometimes menuqad. The German, whether or not it's meant to be uttered, is in a font that I haven't seen before and is very hard on my old eyes. Addendum: Thank you, Mississippi Fred MacDowell, for pointing out in a comment that this font is called Vaibertaitsch. In my comment to his comment, I said I think I thought otherwise (at least I think so), but I now believe Fred was right. B"N, a post on this topic will follow.
Warning: Before you go any further, I disclose that this is all based on the assumptions (1) that the German I learned in high school in the late 1960s is reasonably similar to the German of Dr. Baer and his contemporaries and (2) that I remember any of it correctly. Supporting assumption 1 is the fact that both were a long time ago.
The introduction to the German zimmun in Dr. Baer's siddur is interesting in that it isn't really in German, either in vocabulary or in idiom. The words (with one or two--literally either one or two--exceptions) are German, but the phrasing is a direct translation of the traditional Yiddish zimmun. In what follows, Rashi script is the default, [block letters are in square brackets], {and the German with its odd font is in curly brackets}. Exclamation marks are in the original (following the German style for imperatives). Italics (added by me) indicate words that are incorrect, idiosyncratic, or with an ambiguous letter but nevertheless definitely not correct German.
Here is what appears before the zimmun in the siddur (p. 554):
שלשה שאכלו כאחת חייבים
בזמון. וכיצד מזמנים? המזמן
אומר [הב לן ונברך!] או בל״א [רבותי] {וויר
וואָללען בענטען/בענשען!}׃
בל״א is an abbreviation for bilshon ashkenaz, "in the language of Ashkenaz." It's a little misleading; in more traditional siddurim it means in Yiddish, while here it means in German.
The zimmun itself follows, with embedded instructions regarding a minyan in Hebrew only. After the zimmun we have
יחיד מתחיל. {ווער פֿיר זיך אַליין בעטעט פֿאָנגט היער אַן.}׃
כאחת should be ונברך. כאחד is usually פֿאָנגט. ונבריך represents the German fängt. In the Hebrew-lettered German of Mendelssohn and Baer, אֶ is used for both ä and ö. So this is an actual error: פֿאָנגט should be פֿאֶנגט. This orthographic system doesn't deal with umlauts well. The same character is used for both ä and ö; for ü, they simply used a yod, as here in פֿיר (für). (Mississippi Fred MacDowell recently reproduced a manuscript of a letter to Julius Fuerst [Fürst] with an umlauted vav in the greeting. It appears in the last word in the first line of the manuscript reproduced in this post.)
I point out these errors only because they show that we shouldn't assume that the slashed and italicized בענטען/בענשען is correct in German. To me, with the combination of a smeared character, a difficult font, and my eyes, the fourth letter is ambiguous. If the fourth letter is a shin, then we have בענשען (benshen) here--a non-Germanic Yiddish word. If it is a tet, there are two possibilities: (1) the tet is supposed to be a shin, in which case it would be a misspelling of בענשען; or (2) the first nun could be superfluous, in which case it would be a misspelling of בעטען (beten), German for "to pray." Given that the German following the zimmun has the correctly spelled word בעטעט (betet) (3rd sing. present of beten), I'm prepared to textually emend the German introduction to
רבותי וויר וואָללען בעטען! ׃
רבותי, wir wollen beten!
(But only if we assume it's German, which we're not assuming. See below.)
Wir wollen beten! means "We want to pray," or, less likely, "We intend to pray." (Contrary to what your high school German teacher and mine taught us, wollen doesn't only mean "to want"; it can also mean "to intend," according to the big dictionary I recently looked it up in. But our teachers' main point, that it doesn't indicate future tense, was correct.) Be that as it may, I'm not prepared to say that "Wir wollen beten!" is an incorrect way to say "Let's pray"--my knowledge of German is far too limited to have any confidence about that. But I am reasonably confident that a more conventional way of saying it would be "Beten wir!"
So why would Dr. Baer have written "Wir wollen beten!" instead? Possibly for the same reason that רבותי appears in an allegedly German phrase--it's a verbatim translation (except for the first word, which isn't translated) of the familiar Yiddish
רבותי מיר וועללען בענשען! ׃
And it's possible that my emendation to beten was incorrect. After all, it was based on the assumption that the phrase is German. But it may not be. Perhaps Dr. Baer was as reluctant to part with בענשען as he was to part with רבותי. Or with the Yiddish zimmun in general.
Besides the question of whether the German is really German, another interesting matter is why some of the instructions are translated into German and some are not. The mezammen is told to say "Let's benedict" in German, and the lone eater is told in German where to begin benedicting, but the instructions to the mezammen to say "Elokeinu" only in the presence of a minyan are in Hebrew only. If it's assumed that some users of the siddur will need the German for "Let's benedict," why not also assume they need to be told in German when to change the wording if there's a minyan?
Obligations
This is a true story about my acquaintance Arbuthnot (not his real name), who asks that I spread the word on this.
Arbuthnot is a member of a small Shabbat-and-holiday-only shul with no office staff, and in fact no office. Everything that's done is done by volunteers, and Arbuthnot's job is to check the voice mail. Sometimes he's quite conscientious, checking the messages every day. Most of the time there are no messages, and most of the messages are junk mail--someone wants to sell something to whoever is at the phone number. He often lets a day or two slide by, and no harm is done.
Friday, June 27, after a few days of not checking, Arbuthnot phoned in for the voice mail. There were a few messages from Wednesday, June 18; more days than he'd realized had gone by. A gentleman was calling for Rabbi Ploni. His mother was dying; she used to attend the shul, and she wanted the rabbi to officiate at the funeral.
Had Arbuthnot gotten the message in a timely way, he would have contacted the rabbi immediately. Since it was already nine days later, he called the gentleman instead. Arbuthnot apologized, said he was the voice-mail person from the shul, and asked how the man's mother was. The man said his mother had died, and he had managed to get in contact with the rabbi.
Arbuthnot's message to the readers of Consider the Source is that it's important to be scrupulous in fulfilling one's obligations.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Shoveling snow on Shabbat
On a neighborhood e-mail list that I subscribe to, a thread has begun in which people are protesting against those neighbors who don't shovel their sidewalks. One writer links to Ask Chicagoist, which quotes the Chicago municipal code (and I haven't confirmed this quote):
The snow which falls or accumulates during the day (excepting Sundays) before four p.m. shall be removed within three hours after the same has fallen or accumulated. The snow which falls or accumulates on Sunday or after four p.m. and during the night on other days shall be removed before ten a.m.
I agree with the code, and with my fellow e-mailers, on this. Snowy sidewalks are no big deal in themselves, but they become icy sidewalks after they've been walked on for a while, and those things are dangerous.
When it's necessary to shovel on Shabbat, I always do so, wearing socks on my hands as a shinnui (and this was before I saw this quote from the code). I haven't asked a rabbi about this, and this is out of respect for the rabbinate--I want to save them the embarrassment of possibly giving the wrong answer.
As a side note, I once told a friend, former and (I hope) future havrusa and/or hevruta, and ethical adviser about this. He (who lives in an apartment where the landlord is responsible for shoveling, so it's not his problem) said he thought this a fine idea. Since it's just me, he said, I should do it without any distinctive Jewish accessories visible. If, however, I were R' Gedalia Dov Schwartz, av beit din of the RCA and the Chicago Rabbinical Council, who lives a few blocks away, he'd advise me to do it looking like I was R' Gedalia Dov Schwartz so everyone would know it's OK. I take his point, although I should point out that if I were R' Gedalia Dov Schwartz, I wouldn't need his advice.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Season's geeqings
It's Christmas Eve, and I'm rereading Marc Shapiro, "Torah Study on Christmas Eve," Journal of Jewish Thought and Philosophy 8 (1999): 319-53. It's an interesting read; if you're a member of a library that subscribes to EBSCOhost Academic, or if you're a student or employee of a university whose library subscribes to it, you can probably download a PDF of it. (I'm not attaching a PDF to this post, since that would probably violate my library's terms of use.)
Before I get into the promised geeqery, let me point out two things. First, I intend to learn Torah tonight. Shapiro doesn't find any rabbinic support for the custom of not learning Torah on Christmas Eve, and he questions the antiquity of the custom. Second, the point of all this is going to be that even if you believe in gematria, you should examine the statements that are claimed to be gematriatically equivalent, even if they add up.
Anyhow, on p. 326 Shapiro cites R' Moses Grunwald, Arugat ha-Bosem, vol. 2 (Brooklyn, 1959), p 146a, as claiming that
and
are gematriatically equivalent. I won't explain the phrases, because the explanations will require explanations, and you'd be better off reading Shapiro's paper. And my topic here is the gematriatical equivalency, not the content. The first of the phrases contains an abbreviation for "Hashem." If we use the gematria for the Tetragrammaton (as I always call it) instead of that of the abbreviation, both phrases do indeed have a gematriatical value of 2,659. If I got the gematriot wrong, please comment.
My Hebrew is minimal, but I'm pretty sure both phrases are incorrect in ways that render the claim of equivalency incorrect.
The final word of the first phrase is either an unusual but correct way of spelling the word for "your Torahs [plural]" or an incorrect way of spelling "your Torah [singular]." To me, the incorrectly spelled singular seems more likely. If it is the incorrect spelling, it's understandable--at the end of a phrase, "toratekha" is pronounced "toratekha" (with the underlining indicating the accented vowel). This -ekha ending is used in the plural and takes a yod, but the yod isn't used in the singular. If this were meant to be the plural "torotekha," it would usually take a vav after the resh, although it isn't strictly required. But it's unusual without it. And what would "your Torahs" mean anyway? It might make sense--the written and the oral Torahs--but it just rings oddly to me. On the other hand, I'm new in this neighborhood.
If I'm correct and the singular was intended, we can fix the phrase by deleting the yod, which would reduce the gematriatical value to 2,649.
In the second phrase "sha'ah" ("hour") is a feminine noun. Two of the other words referring to it, "zo" and "nofelet," are also feminine. But "bo" is masculine.
If "bo" is incorrect, we can fix it by changing it to "bah." The change causes a net loss of 1, making the corrected gematria 2,658.
In short, if I'm right that either phrase is incorrect, the gematriatical equivalency is incorrect. Put another way, the equivalency depends on incorrectness--it fails if the phrases are corrected. If I'm right about all this stuff, that is. Even if you believe in gematria, you may have reason to reject this particular equivalency.
More generally, even if you believe that something works, you should still read instances of it carefully. This is the real topic of my sermon.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Unsatisfactory
Boro Park Pyro (ak"a "Steg" and "King o' the Goblins") recently had a post describing a discussion that he and his hevruta had with some racist yeshiva bahurim. The Pyro and his hevruta challenged the bahurim, and kol hakavod, yasher koah, and kudos to them for that.
More interesting to me was Kylopod's comment on the post. Interesting because his reaction to Orthodox racism, when he's a witness to it, is very much the same as mine:
When this kind of thing happens to me, I don't feel outrage anymore. I'm beyond that. I've developed a sort of weary cynicism about the whole matter.
I'm still outraged by it. But what I actually do about it is what Kylopod does.
I can't stand that so many Orthodox Jews are bigots, but for me it's a personal thing. Every time I hear a racist remark from a frum person, and how natural they make it sound, as though it were so obvious that everyone present should agree...
Indeed. I used to go to shalosh se'udot at my shul. I stopped after a while for the reason Kylopod describes: "Nobody here but us Orthodox Jews, and we can speak freely, and obviously we're all in on the hilarious jokes we're about to share."
...I think to myself, "Why am I hanging out with these people?" Nowadays I rarely challenge it directly unless it comes from a friend, but I make sure never to make it seem like I'm agreeing with them.
That's what I do too. "'Why am I hanging out with these people?'" Good question. Another question is whether this passive non-agreement is a satisfactory substitute for active disagreement. I don't know Kylopod's answer; to me, it's completely unsatisfactory. If we heard that some other group had a bunch of members who were openly bigoted--the bigotry might even be anti-Semitic--and the nonbigots just sort of kept quiet and didn't actively agree with the bigots, how would we feel about it? Would we let the quiet nonbigots off the hook, or would we do some pious tut-tutting about how the nonbigots have an obligation to disapprove? And if these quiet non-Jewish nonbigots have an obligation to object to bigotry, don't we as well?
And what are we to make of this anecdote?
Gerald Blidstein recalls the following conversation with R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik: "I remember that in Israel there was a real problem, do you save a gentile on the Sabbath? One evening during this time I was with the Rav [Joseph B. Soloveitchik] and he said 'I have been in Boston many years and I always rule that one saves the lives of gentiles, because if we don't permit this, they won't save our sick ones.' I asked him if this reason satisfied him from a moral standpoint, and he replied, 'No, from a moral standpoint it does not satisfy me.'" (Marc B. Shapiro, Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy: The Life and Works of Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg 1884-1966 [London: Littman, 1999], 182-83 n. 47, citing Gilyon [Heshvan 5754 (1993)]: 25) (bracketed material in Shapiro)
Should we be satisfied with the Rav on this point? Why didn't he give what he would have considered a morally satisfactory reason? I understand why some of us don't want to be socially ostracized or don't want to be confrontational. I understand why a young man on a rabbinic track doesn't want to jeopardize his career. I don't understand why a leader and innovator like the Rav was so timid (perhaps this is the wrong word--comment, please, if you disagree with it) about making what he himself would have considered a morally satisfactory statement. Dare we assume that it was OK because he was the Rav, and if he (being the Rav) did this it must have been OK? It's tragic that such a person hedges on this, and it makes me worry for Orthodox Judaism. I honor Blidstein for asking the Rav this question.
I would hate to see us Modern Orthos treat the Rav the way ArtScroll treats hareidi "gedolim." But that horse may have left the stable long ago. Which is another topic.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Allah
First, some disclaimers. I don't know Judeo-Arabic, and I don't know Arabic that isn't Judeo, and my knowledge of Hebrew is very minimal.
Now on to the story. You may have heard that the god of the Jews is not the same as the god of the Muslims. Our god is God, and their god is Allah. You may also have heard someone reply that "Allah" is simply Arabic for "God" and is used by Arabic-speaking Jews and Christians.
Mr. Mississippi F. MacDowell's always excellent blog On the Main Line (at least it's always excellent when it isn't over my head) recently published a 9th- or 10th-c. passage in Judeo-Arabic with English translation. It's in Hebrew script. Take a look at the second word from the right in the second line. It appears to be "Allah," and it appears to mean "God." This "appears to" stuff isn't meant to be snide--I actually don't know, so I don't want to make a more definitive statement. But I'm reasonably confident about it.
As always, comments are invited, and comments from those of you who actually have a clue on this are especially welcome.
Thank you.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
The boogeyman; or, Pessy's wager
Overheard (the quotation marks are gisties, not verbatims):
"I told my friend who got a Conservative conversion that maybe this conversion is OK, we'll find out when Mashiah comes, but do you really want to take the chance that you're wrong?"
Too true. We don't know how things will be when Mashiah comes. Maybe those who humbly try to do the best they can will get preference over those who go around saying "Mashiah's going to get you if you don't watch out."
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Staying on message
Recently an acquaintance of mine was at a dinner in honor of volunteers for a Jewish hesed organization; there are both Orthos and non-Orthos among the volunteers. Many of the organization's clients are non-Ortho.
(BT"W, I consider this acquaintance's report reliable, but what do I know?) (But it sounds credible.)
The coordinator of volunteers gave a moving talk about the very big effects that very small actions can have on the lives of others, for better or for worse. Next, a dedicated longtime volunteer was called front and center to make the public Hamotzi. You could tell he was non-Ortho because he was wearing one of those shiny yarmulkehs from the box at the registration table and, more importantly, because the volunteer coordinator was coaching him ("Now don't say anything until you've eaten a piece of the bread"). As he was walking back to his table, someone said loud enough to be heard by my acquaintance, and probably by the baal Hamotzi as well, "He didn't wash."
(We note for the halakhic record that there were washing stations for those who wished to use them, so nobody needed to rely on the public Hamotzi.)
The person who noted the nonwashing must have arrived late and missed the volunteer coordinator's speech. I hope he or she has better control over his or her yap when dealing with the organization's non-Ortho clients.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Shiddukh
Michael Miner
I hadn't planned on preaching a sermon on this right now, but I saw this excellent statement (in a completely different context), I just couldn't resist. And before I continue, it's important to point out that there are some bloggers out there who give anonymity a good name. As it were.
I understand that some of the anonymous folks in Eretz ha-Cyberut (Fake Hebrew for "the CyberWorld") are hareidim who are afraid of destroying their families or making their children unmarriageable if they make their true opinions known under their own names. I feel very bad for these people.
Nevertheless, when I read praises of the freedom of speech that anonymity affords, I don't join in the cheers. Anonymity all too often means freedom from accountability. The shiddukh between belligerence and anonymity isn't just attractive; to many of the anonymous, it seems downright irresistible. At this point, they lose my sympathy. They corrupt their claims about freedom of speech and reveal themselves to be mere cowards.
It's easy for me to give advice, since I'm Modern Ortho in a shul that tolerates some diversity of opinion (and I'm probably pretty marginal in the shul at that), and so I don't have much to lose. Nevertheless, I'm not sure this freedom of speech is really that free if you have to hide all the time, or that the things being risked are always worth keeping. Imagine you make it known that you fail one or more of Maimonides' litmus tests for the true faith or that if you had a choice, you'd wear a six-panel yarmulkeh instead of a Toireh-miSinai-dikeh four-panel yarmulkeh. And now it's shiddukh time. A wonderful young person won't marry your child because his or her parents won't allow it because of your forbidden thoughts! Vey'z mir! And I'm not being sarcastic with the V"M—it must be a very painful situation. But on the other hand, does your child really want to marry someone who's so dominated by narrow-minded parents? Do you really want such makhutonim?
Well, as I said, it's easy for me to give useless and obvious advice, and the advice took me off topic. My real point is that abusive speech is bad, and doing it anonymously makes it worse.