Jews are always asking questions! Learning usually takes place in the presence of questions--questions asked out of genuine curiosity or a real need to know.

Joseph Rubinstein wrote the book, "Let's Talk Jewish: 99 Questions Christians Would Like to Ask Jews." Ask the Rabbi ( www.Ohr.edu ) offers a staff of rabbis and educators who will answer the simplest to the most complex questions for FREE. Gary Rosenblatt, Ph.D. offers a [telephone] Therapy Line for a fee of $40 per half hour or $70 an hour. Don't "haken a tsheinik"--talk just for the sake of talking. It's "teier"--expensive!

I remember being questioned by a business chairperson, Herbert Levy, when I was applying for a position as a high school business teacher. He asked me the five scariest words:

"Tell me about yourself, Marjorie."

What a question! Hadn't he read my resume? Should I say that I was happily married, the mother of three sons, and had taught for 10 years...in that order? Or, would I appear more professional if I reversed the order? Should I exclude the fact that I would need to take off for all the major Jewish holidays? And should I tell him that I REALLY needed the job since my youngest son, Daniel, would be having his Bar Mitzvah this year?

I must have given the correct response since I was hired. "Danken Got!"

F-a-s-t f-o-r-w-a-r-d to 2002/2003. I'd love to question Harry Gluckman about his plans to revive the sale of "schmaltz" (chicken fat) to its rightful place in the home. (He has plans to distribute it in a green glass Gucci bottle with a label clearly saying...low fat, no cholesterol, Newman's Choice, extra virgin schmaltz.)

Recently I sent this E-mail to Wendy Belzberg ("AskWendy" - at www.Jewishworldreview.com :)
Q. Last week I passed a sign prominently placed outside a church in Lake Worth, Florida. It said, "Don't give up. Even Moses was a Basket Case." I find the sign objectionable. My Jewish friends say they find it humorous and that I should "lighten up." What's your opinion?
A. Sorry to play the heavy, but I'm with the "lighten up" crowd. If only you'd written before Passover, and I could have advised you to take the thought to the Passover Seder. It would have made for a stimulating discussion - in very modern terms. You could go almost anywhere with that "aphorism," which makes me think you should perhaps be examining why you took such offense at it.
2 Tamuz 5762

I asked the same question of Rabbi Reuven Lauffer, and he replied:

Dear Marjorie,
Do I find it offensive? Well, yes I do but, on the other hand, I appreciate the advertising gimmick. According to the Christian religion, Moses was a prophet of theirs so I suppose they feel that their word playing is poking fun at themselves.

And I'd like to ask Gary Rosenblatt (New York Jewish Week) the following question:

Dear Gary:
Were you expressing yourself with tongue-in-cheek when you wrote about the widely successful small film (now available on video) titled, "My Big Fat Jewish Brother-in-Law's Niece's Bat Mitzvah"? (It is the story of a plain Jane 12-year-old who overcomes the challenges posed by a dysfunctional family and greasy catering to triumph on her big day in the synagogue, reciting her Haftorah flawlessly despite noticing a large zit forming on her chin.)

I'd also like to question playwright Anna Deavere Smith ("Fires in the Mirror") for more details about an interview she had with a Lubavitcher woman.

The story takes place near the end of the Sabbath. A baby was playing with the knobs on a stereo system. Suddenly, the baby pushed the "on" button and a blaring sound resulted. The mother couldn't turn it off (electricity can't be turned off on Shabbas). The volume was so loud that a visitor in the house began to complain of a "kop vaitik"--a headache. Since the child was under 3, it was not considered against the Torah if the child turned it off. The baby was put near the stereo...but "gornisht" (nothing) happened!

Since one can ask somebody who's not Jewish to do a simple act like turning on the light or turning off the light, the woman proceeded to go outside for help. She saw a little boy who was not Jewish (he wasn't wearing a yarmulke). She told him that the stereo was really loud and that she couldn't turn it off and so could he help.

The little boy follows the woman into the house, goes over to the stereo and says, "You see this little button here that says "on and off." She stood there looking kind of dumb and then he went and pushed it. They laughed that he probably thought: And people say Jewish people are really smart and they don't know how to turn off their radios.

On September 21, 1998, a sermon was given by Rabbi Barry H. Block, spiritual leader of Temple Beth-El, San Antonia, TX. It was titled, "Disappointment." I read it on the synagogue's website.

Throughout our lives, each of us experiences disappointments, big and small...For about two years now, Toni and I have known something of the frustration of Sarah and Abraham. We were married in the presence of the congregation on this bimah, just over three years ago. We shared countless hopes and dreams, among then our desire to start a family of our own. Naively we assumed that child-bearing was obviously a power we possessed. Not quite as old as Abraham and Sarah, we weren't exactly young when we married. Nevertheless, we so discounted the possibility of having problems that we gave ourselves a year of marriage before trying. Had we heard of friends and congregants struggling with infertility? Sure, we had. We did not consider, though, that we could be they. Each type of disappointment has its own particularly devastating qualities. With infertility, the powerlessness is palpable. The waiting, insufferable, the decisions, heart wrenching. We have had to accept the unacceptable: normal, natural child-bearing may not be a power we physically possess. The ultimate verdict is in God's domain...our disappointment and our faith both spring from one divine source.

Having experienced a similar problem--and subsequently adopting three boys--I was curious of the outcome. Four years later (12/27/02) I wrote the Rabbi an E-mail and tactfully questioned him about his above-mentioned problem. He wrote:

Dear Marjorie,
Thank you for your concern. Yes, there is a happy ending. Our first son was born on Jan. 5, 2000. We are expecting our second son any minute."

The last question--exemplifying typical Chelmic logic--was told by Harry S. Spaulding in the "Encyclopedia of Jewish Humor From Biblical Times to the Modern Age."

A young cobbler in Chelm takes a bride of 18 but is surprised when three months after the marriage, she gives birth. He rushes to the rabbi saying that his own mother told him that it takes 9 months to make a baby.

The mystery is solved with Talmudic logic through the asking of questions:

Rabbi: "First, son, you say that you have been married for three months?"
Man: "Yes, Rabbi."
Rabbi: "Your wife has lived with you for three months?"
Man: "Yes, she has."
Rabbi: "And you have lived with your wife for three months?"
Man: "Yes."
Rabbi: "There you have it, young man, add up the total: Three months plus three months plus three months. How much is that?"
Man: "Nine months, Rabbi."
Rabbi: "Correct," said the Rabbi gently. "Peace be with you and yours. Now go home to wife and nine-month baby."

Have you asked any good questions lately?