Changing Nature of Jewish Religious Practice in Australia and the Importance of Interfaith Dialogue

An edited version of a talk to the ISRA Studies of Religion Conference in Sydney 10 March 2023

In response to the Studies of Religion Syllabus focus on the changing pattern of religious observance in Australia post-1945, I will discuss one change - the prevalence of Hasidic Rabbis in orthodox synagogues in Sydney. I will also address the importance of Interfaith dialogue.

I begin with a bit of scripture,

Moses came down from Mount Sinai with the two tablets, he was not aware that the skin of his face was radiant… the Israelites were afraid to approach him (Exodus 34:29-30).

The phenomenon is explained by the Midrash[i]. Moses worked closely with God to create the second set of tablets after he broke the first set in response to the worship of the golden calf. Moses held one side of the tablets in his hand – symbolic of the parts of the Torah humans could understand, while the Divine Presence held the other edge – symbolic of the parts of the Torah that only God understands[ii], and in between the two parts was something of profound mystery. It was from this mystery that rays of light appeared on Moses’ face.  

I, a Rabbi from Brooklyn, New York, read this passage while preparing my lesson for a Hasidic-led Synagogue based on the North Shore of Sydney. The congregation I will deliver this lesson to are not Hasidic Jews, but choose to attend the lessons of a Hasidic Rabbi. 

Senior Dayan (Judge) of the Sydney Beth Din 
(Religious court), Rabbi Yehoram Ulman

This reflects a peculiar development of Jewish practice since 1945. Instead of mainstream orthodox Jews being led by Rabbis of the same inclination, they are mostly led by Hasidic Rabbis. In terms familiar to Studies of Religion teachers, many of these Rabbis are less in the mode of Maimonides and his rationalist approach - that would interpret the Torah’s story about a talking donkey as a prophetic vision - and more in the mystical mode of the Baal Shem Tov. This change that has occurred in orthodox Jewish life in Australia is linked to the rise of secularism.

 Australian Jews are generally full participants in Australian culture, and the general trends you will see in the census also hold true for Jews. Like the census data that tell us that more than a third of Australians selected no religion, around 30% of respondents of the Gen17 Australian Jewish Population Survey cited a ‘secular’ outlook or lifestyle[iii].

The trend away from religious observance has been a global one. It prompted a response from the Chabad Hasidic movement to send Rabbis from New York to all corners of the world to call Jews back to religious belief, study, and practice. 

This development is one change in one stream of one faith community in Australia, and it is important not to overstate its significance, even within the Jewish faith. Hasidic Rabbis will often teach from mainstream orthodox perspectives.  Adherence to religious requirements is still mixed, despite the best efforts of the Hasidic Rabbis. 29% of survey respondents reported that only kosher meat was bought for their homes and 14% attend synagogue once or more per week.

Despite the Hasidic background of many Rabbis in Sydney, this has not inhibited interfaith work. Labels can often be misleading. An example of this is my good friend, Imam Farhan Khalil, who comes from a Salafi school of Islam and is one of the most passionate advocates of interfaith I know. 

The interfaith work done by the Together For Humanity Foundation began in a Chabad Hasidic Synagogue in 2002. It was a collaboration between a Hasidic Rabbi, Christians and Muslims spreading a message of goodwill between people of different faiths. One of the early events was covering NSW Parliament with messages from students in response to the visits by the Christian, Jewish and Muslim teams to schools.

During the Sydney siege, Father Patrick McInerny and I said prayers on the steps of Lakemba Mosque alongside Sheikh Wesam Charkawi. This was part of an effort to show interfaith solidarity. It was widely reported in the media, and was part of the spirit of goodwill at the time that prevented that terrible event eroding social cohesion in our city.

There is a lot of effort being put into interfaith. Studies of Religion is strong in NSW, with an active Facebook page with over 1600 members.

School children from different cultures come together in interfaith encounters. These are run by Catholic Mission, the NSW Jewish Board of Deputies and Together For Humanity, to name a few.

An Independent evaluation of Together For Humanity’s work by Western Sydney University found that there was a significant impact from these activities. The research found that programs are effective in assisting students to challenge stereotypes and alleviate their fears. These programs also empower students to deal with prejudice and discrimination and promote the acquisition of empathy, mutual acceptance and belonging. [iv]

Some would argue that if the criteria for evaluating the importance of interfaith dialogue is measured by the number of participants, then it is irrelevant to most Australians and therefore unimportant.

On the other hand, I would argue that the criteria should be based on the need for it, in which case, it is very important.  

To return to the scriptural idea I began with. Some people are drawn to a ‘golden calf’ type of religion. Concrete, solid and uncomplicated. Interfaith work, however, can be linked to the mystery of ’the middle section of the tablets‘. Its mystery involves the complexity of holding in tension; truth claims on one hand, and leaving space and having respect for those who believe and practice differently.

  

[i] Midrash Rabba, Exodus, 47:11

[ii] Etz Yosef on Midrash Rabba, Exodus, 47:11

[iii] https://www.monash.edu/__data/assets/pdf_file/0009/1531791/gen17-initial-findings-report-online-version-final-22_3.pdf

[iv] Gale, F., Edenborough, M., Boccanfuso, E., Hawkins, M., & Sell, C. (2019), Western Sydney University, Australia. Promoting intercultural

understanding, connectedness and belonging: An independent qualitative evaluation of Together For Humanity programs. 

Dis/Connection and Crown Heights Jews and Blacks - Vayechi

I walked toward the forest in St Ives, this past Monday, as I do most mornings, but this time tentatively. Australia is burning! A place that is usually a refuge for me, teeming with bird sounds, animal life and tranquility, now feels ambiguous, even somewhat threatening, possibly on the verge of igniting with deadly fire. Many Australians have lost their lives, many more their homes or farms and we have lost so many animals.

A week earlier, I walked toward another oasis of nature: Prospect Park, at the edge of Crown Heights, Brooklyn, where I visited my parents over Chanukah.  It is usually a calming walk and I often like to go when I visit. This time was different. Religious Jews were being attacked on the streets of New York, one had been murdered in a shop in New Jersey and another was stabbed at home in Monsey. I hesitated as I thought: was I safe? Would I be attacked? 

These two causes call me as I write. Living in Australia, I feel empathy with my fellow Australians. Their suffering and terror stirs my heart to compassion and concern. Yet, I am also a Jew from Brooklyn, and my recent visit is pulling my attention to the simmering situation there.

Navigating between our ties to, or disconnections from, various places is explored in my Jewish tradition. Our patriarch Jacob, born in Canaan, is said to have only truly been alive during his last seventeen years, living in exile in Egypt (1) where he finally found happiness (2).  Yet, his new home was not where he wanted to be buried, among the fundamentally different Egyptians (3), instead he insisted that his body must be returned to the Holy Land (4). Even when Jacob was alive, he considered it important that his family remain apart from the Egyptians (5).

This way of being in a place but not of the place (6), reflects my own experience growing up in Brooklyn, which came back to me on my recent visit. While I was there I caught up with a black friend from Sydney, Mohamed. I showed him around Crown Heights, starting with my childhood home. I showed him a large apartment building with black families near our old home, and reflected how, in the twenty years I lived there, I never learned the names of any of my black neighbours. This wasn't unique to me. This kind of disconnect from our non-Jewish neighbours was a common feature of growing up as a Chasidic Jew in Crown Heights. 

I find it hard to write about my old neighbourhood. It is simple enough to speak about my experience, to acknowledge that I was racist then, and felt fear and loathing of my black neighbours. It is also a matter of historic fact, that in 1991 an Australian Jew, Yankel Rosenbaum, was killed by a black man, part of a hateful anti-semitic mob. I will never forget the terror I felt in 1991 when I returned from Australia, to what felt like a war-zone, and came to be known as the “Crown Heights riots”. In 2020, another black man from Crown Heights is in custody for  stabbing a Rabbi in his home, over Chanukah. But there is so much more to this tension, both past and present, that is contested and sensitive.

Ultimately, this blog post is far too brief to fully explore the painful history or current dynamic between Jews and African Americans in Crown Heights. However, I want to at least take an interest here in the efforts to bridge the divide between the two communities (7). It is good to see role models of inter-communal friendship going to schools and engaging children in conversation. However, as someone who has been using this approach - going to schools as  Muslim-Chrisitian-Jewish panels modelling goodwill, for almost two decades, I have learned that this strategy, while valuable in its own right, needs to be part of a multi-faceted approach (8). One important element that research recommends is ensuring that participants in intergroup contact, in cases where there has been tension, are assured that this contact is sanctioned by authority figures on “their side” (9).

One suggestion I offer to my old community is to utilise religious education to guide children how to truly coexist, while also honouring our religious traditions of being separate. This is not at all simple, but it is eminently doable. It could begin with discussion of behaviour, such as the halachic principle of supporting needy and sick non-Jewish people, not only Jews, as part of 'the ways of peace' (10). It should involve exploration of what it means to be truly ethical in our ways of thinking and behaving toward one non-Jewish or black neighbours, to strive to make them so “beautiful” that G-d Himself would be proud of us (11). The children might be invited to ponder how it came to be that so many Egyptians deeply mourned the death of a Jewish man, Jacob (12). Perhaps, as one commentary suggested, throughout the years Jacob lived in Egypt, he spent time sharing his wisdom with wise Egyptians (13), not just hanging out with his Jewish grandchildren.

Eventually this discussion arrives at the question of identity. Who are we as Jews and human beings? G-d created humans with a common ancestor to prevent discord (14) based on beliefs in superiority (15) or ideas of purer lineage (16).

As for me, like people of various faith backgrounds and none, I must turn my attention to the needs and suffering of my fellow Australians at this difficult time. 

 

Notes:

 A big thank you to my learned and skillful editor, my son, Aaron Menachem Mendel Kastel. 

1)     Midrash Hagadol, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:28, 81, p. 1724. 

2)     Lekach Tov, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:28, note: 81, p. 1724. 

3)     Old Tanchuma, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:29, 114, p. 1730, "they are compared to Donkeys and I am compared to a sheep..."  

4)     Genesis 47:29-31.

5)     Midrash Hagadol, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 46:34, 188, p. 1700. 

6)     See also Likkutei Sichos, Vol. 20, pg. 235-242 and especially pg. 241.

7)     https://www.wnyc.org/story/attacks-against-jews-crown-heights-stir-old-fears-and-new-dialogue/

8)     Halse, C (2015), Doing Diversity, report on research project, Deakin University, https://www.education.vic.gov.au/Documents/school/principals/management/doingdiversity.pdf.

9)     Alport, G. in Pedersen, A., Walker, I., & Wise, M. (2005). Talk Does Not Cook Rice: Beyond anti-racism rhetoric to strategies for social action. Australian Psychologist, 40, 20-30.

10)  Talmud Gittin 61a. See Rabbi Jonathan Sacks' elaboration of this concept in The Home We Build Together, Continuum Books. See also statement in the Talmud Gittin 59b. That all of the laws of the Torah are for the sake of the ways of peace.

11)  Kedushas Levi, end of parsha Vayechi, Sifrei Ohr Hachayim edition, Jerusalem, p. 116.

12)  Genesis 50:3.

13)  Rabbi Moshe David Vali, Ohr Olam, Genesis Vol. 2, Hamesorah edition, p. 464.

14)  Talmud, Sanhedrin 38a.

15)  Rashi ad loc.

16)  R. Yosef Hayim (1835 – 1909), better known as the Ben Ish Chai, in Ben Yehoyada, ad loc.

Religion vs. Art? Values clash and my name is not Asher Lev

Staying awake all night on the anniversary of revelation is one of many commonalities between Jews and Muslims. I only found out about this on Monday, in a discussion with some Muslim teenagers and a Sheikh. At midnight on Saturday this week,  I will deliver a talk to sleep deprived Jews at my synagogue as part of the all night learning related to the Jewish festival of Shavuot. I plan to focus as much on cultural conflict as commonality, which should keep my listeners awake.

I will reflect on the play My Name is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok that was recently performed in Sydney. Asher Lev is an artist who grew up in a Chasidic family in a fictional setting that is based on the community in which I was raised. The play raised questions about cultural clashes between faith and art. Asher endured intense conflict with his father who he accused of being afflicted with aesthetic blindness. His father saw Asher’s drawing as being, at best a waste of time and at worst a manifestation of the forces of evil, or the “Sitra Achra”, the other side. Asher’s decision to paint nudes against the wishes of his parents led his father to accuse him of moral blindness.

The conflict between the ideals of the Western art world and the world of Chabad Chasidim has been dismissed by one Rabbi, who cited the example of a Chasidic artist who was encouraged by the leader of the Chabad movement, Rabbi Schneerson (known simply as “the Rebbe”). The temptation to minimise cultural differences is a common one, but needs to be resisted, just as it is unhelpful to exaggerate the conflicts. The very real conflict explored in My Name is Asher Lev is the conflict between acceptance of the validity of art as an end in itself with its own valid traditions and a view  that art is merely a humble servant of worship, and must be subject to its restrictions.

The argument in the book between father and son also played out between the book’s author, Chaim Potok  and the Rebbe, when he attended one of the Rebbe’s public addresses. The Rebbe declared passionately “that if God has given someone a talent and an ability to write a book,...then regardless of the external form of the book in terms of its content, it must fulfil the purpose of persuading the reader that contrary to the views of the fools that think that the world runs without a Master in which might makes right, ... in the end righteous, justice and goodness will prevail”.

Potok did not respond directly to this argument, but he articulated his own philosophy about creative expression which could apply as much to art as it does to writing. In an interview he explained his choice not to meet privately with the Rebbe. Potok reflected that he “was concerned about how such a meeting would affect what I myself want to write about regarding this group. I didn’t want to meet personally with the Rebbe because it was very clear to me that this was a most unusual human being. I didn’t want to spend 20 minutes or half an hour in a room with him, and then have to rethink, undo, restructure, my imagination after that experience. A writer does the necessary encountering for his or her work, and when he feels that his imagination has enough encounter with the reality that he wants to write about, he walks away from the reality and lets the imagination work. You don’t let the reality overwhelm the imagination”.

For Potok,  art, of the written or visual form, is a process of great perfection and integrity that has roots in reality but must transcend the literal truth of reality, to the greater truth of the imagination.  Or as Pablo Picasso, stated: ““Art is the lie that enables us to realize the truth.”.

At the end of My Name is Asher Lev, there is a dramatic clash between Asher and his parents.  They come to see his exhibition and are confronted with a crucifixion he pained where his mother is portrayed as Jesus on the cross, suffering the torment of being torn between her husband and her son. Asher’s paternal grandfather was murdered by a Russian peasant in the lead up to Easter in an anti-Semitic act, presumably because of the mistaken belief that the Jews had crucified Jesus. Asher’s father regarded his son’s depiction of  him and his wife in a crucifixion scene as a terrible betrayal. He could not imagine any meaning of the cross other than the one he sees through the lens of his history and faith, both of which have strong objections to the symbol.  

To Asher, he had no choice if he wanted to be authentic. He was guided by artistic traditions about how to express his truth. The portrayal of the artist in Asher Lev echoes the words of the driven prophet Jeremiah: “But if I said; I will not mention Him, and I will no longer speak in His name, it would be in my heart like a burning fire, confined in my bones, and I wearied to contain it but was unable.  Asher’s powerful commentary on reality is inside him and eventually comes out whether he likes it or not. The conflict was intense and appeared unresolvable.

Someone asked me after the play if I agreed that Asher suffered from moral blindness. I said I thought it was more a case of social blindness for both father and son. Neither protagonist can understand the worldview of the other. Particularly in the case of Asher, there is little reflection on the nature of the conflict. Asher appeared to act impulsively in his drawing, or even allowed others to act for him in the case of the decision by the gallery owner to display the crucifixion, which he doesn’t protest but doesn’t explicitly give permission for either. The name of the book, “My Name is Asher Lev”, hints at a justification for hurting his parents in order to be true to himself. .  

I think there is more than one way to be authentic. I found a little while ago that expressing myself freely in an op-ed in the Daily Telegraph without really thinking through what I was saying, how I was saying it and my relationship with some of the people about whom I was writing was an unwise choice. Even as we express ourselves, we can still take the time to reflect on the perspectives of others. In some cases we will resolve to stand our ground and in others to yield. At this point in my talk, I will raise my voice, for emphasis in the tradition of the art of public speaking. I will urge my listeners to ensure that whatever they choose, they should be fully aware of their feelings and principles and awake to the implications of their choices. The louder voice will probably jolt at least one of my listeners from their snoring slumber who will open one eye and wonder what it is all about.  

Flawed Idealists, Hasidim, Prejudice & Storks

The Hasida and the Hasid kind to one's own kind,
ignore the the outsider

Today the 27^th of Nissan, is Yom Hashoah, Holocaust remembrance day. Last night I attended a moving ceremony in Sydney. Writer Eliot Perlman told a compelling and vivid account of one aspect of the Holocaust told from the perspective of two witnesses, one a registrar at Birkenau and the other a worker in the crematorium. We heard of a polish grandmother and her brave grandson Tadeus who saved the life of the mother of one of the speakers. Along with remembering, the compelling message was to fight prejudice in whatever form it takes. I dedicate this discussion to those who were murdered and those who survived, and to the victims of other genocides and ethnic based inhumanity including Rwanda, Bosnia, and Liberia that the world failed to prevent in spite of the lessons of the Holocaust.  

My effort to counter prejudice begins with me, extends to my own group, then wider. Over the Passover festival I read a moving story called the “The Ballad of the Monkey’s Wedding”.[1] A Black maid named Willomeena is portrayed with deep respect and affection. This should not be a big deal but unfortunately, it is somewhat rare in recent ultra-orthodox and Hasidic Jewish literature. In one inspiring story a Roma woman named Chungarabi saves the life of the main protagonist at great risk to herself and her husband. Yet, the translator can’t help herself and suggests that perhaps Chungarabi was not a ‘real Gypsy, instead she might have been a descendent of a Jewish child kidnapped by the Gypsies’[2]. I wanted to scream when I read that.

More broadly, I want to explore how people who are conscientious in certain aspects of our lives get it wrong in other areas. I will consider the example of my Hasidic community. My exploration will touch on the stork as a symbol, because this bird is called חסידה Hasida in Hebrew, essentially the same word as Hasid[3], both words relating to kindness and piety. 

UnKosher but kind Stork/Hasida and the Hasidim

Description of the Stork in
morality tale  from 1831

The Hebrew word for the White Stork Hasidah, means "kind" and the reason given for this name is because it does kindness with “her friends”[4]. It is said to actively gather food for its friends[5]. This view extends beyond Jewish sources; the stork has been described as affectionate in a book from the 1830’s that encourages children to be kind like the stork[6].

Despite the positive characterization of the stork, it is a non-kosher bird[7]. This is puzzling, as Non-Kosher birds were thought to have cruel characteristics, “they eat their prey while they are still alive[8], their blood is hot to cruelty and black…it puts cruelty in to the heart” (of the person eating it)[9].  A Hasidic resolution of this problem focuses on the limited scope of the stork’s kindness; “its friends”[10]. Kindness that is restricted in this way is certainly not kosher.

This criticism of the stork resonates for me. In my Hasidic community we have great generosity, giving to the poor is considered simply an act of justice rather than charity[11]. An enduring image from my childhood is of people throwing dollar bills into Mr. Shimshon Stock’s bag as he walked on the backs of the benches, then he came back for a second round with the line “there is a hole in the bag”.  In my own experience, I would spend lunchtimes almost every day as a 14-15 year old visiting sick Jews in hospital, praying with them and chatting. Yet our kindness focused almost exclusively within the community. I find it staggering that I was never told about Martin Luther King Jnr’s “I have a dream speech” and the change he called for.  

Piety

While other teenagers have focused their idealism outwardly, our moral teachings directed me inward. For example when I was in London as a 16 year old, I never bothered to visit the sights because I saw that as a distraction from worship. More broadly, we learned to view the sensual with suspicion. In Hasidism we are taught that nothing is neutral. Everything, either contributes to worship or is seen as aligned with “the other side[12]”.

The stork is said to be the most pious of birds, therefor angels have been compared to it[13]. In some commentaries the stork is said to immerse itself in water after mating[14]. Many Hasidim will immerse in water prior to prayers every day, at least in part to purify themselves of any spiritual impurity relating to emission of semen. I wonder if the degree of priority Hasidim devote to the focus on the containment of the physical aspects of life, risks leaving less head space for issues like prejudice. Of course, self-denial could work the other way and sensitize Hasidim to others, including non-Jews and minorities. Either way, meticulous attention to any one area of virtue, be it social justice, ritual or any other cause, does not make us “Kosher”.

Transcendence, idealism, the letter Chet and the number 8

According to the mystics the Hebrew names of everything tells us about its character, the first letter is the most significant[15]. The first letter of both Hasida/the name of the stork and the Hasid is Chet ח. It is the 8^th letter and symbolizes transcendence, coming after seven which relates to the days of a week and the normal cycle. The appearance of the letter ח is related to a gateway to another dimension[16].

In striving to go higher, some idealists neglect more mundane worldly obligations to family or others. Nadav and Avihu the two sons of Aaron (the brother of Moses) passionately wanted to add “love to love[17]” and spontaneously brought an authorized offering to the temple[18] with great joy[19]. These two men were said to be closer to God than Moses and in such spiritual ecstasy that their souls left their bodies out of intense longing for God[20].  Yet, in their enthusiasm, they disregarded the authority of Moses, might have been drunk, neglected the ritual washing (unlike the stork), and are even said to show impatience to replace their father and Moses.  “A bit more, and these oldies will die and we will lead the congregation[21]”.

Nadav and Avihu neglected one critical bit of the letter Chet. It is linked strongly to the word for life, Chai, or Chayim as it represents the pulse of life, which includes both running to God but then returning to the world to carry out our obligations here[22].     

Humility and Self criticism

One of the strengths of Hasidim and many idealistic people is an emphasis on humility and Self- criticism. We are told that Aaron was hesitant to carry out his role as the high priest in the initial offering of the new temple. He was concerned of his past failings. Moses tells him, not to worry, “for this, you have been chosen[23]”. Another take on Moses’ reassurance is that it is precisely, “this”, namely, Aaron’s concern that he might not be worthy that is his most admirable quality and makes him worthy to undertake his high role[24].

Conclusion

As we strive to be better, we need to be alert to how we might fall short, especially in areas that are we not focused on. I need to contribute to and care for my own community and “friends” as the Hasida does, but also beyond its limits. There is value in activity, ritual and “washing”, but it takes more than that to be “Kosher”. Like life itself, there is a pulse and a rhythm, one moment to try to ‘touch heaven’ but then the next minute to get back to our task here on earth with all its challenges and its great diversity of precious people.

May the memory of all who perished be for a blessing.

---

[1] Shapiro, S ed., (1991), An Anthology of Jewish Women’s Writings, Our Lives, Targum Press, Southfield, MI, p.15

[2] Cohen, M, (2007) A Daughter of Two Mothers, Feldheim Publishers, Jerusalem

[3] Another connection between Hasidim and the stork relates to the Aramaic translation of the word Hasida/white stork as “White/chivarta ”. Hasidim typically face ridicule because of their devotions to the point that “the color drained from their faces”, yet they do not abandon their pious practices (Paneach Raza, cited in Torah Shlaima, vol 28, p.105).  The early history of the Hasidism includes many episodes of mockery, even violence from others who did not share their convictions and practices. This aspect could motivate Hasidim to work for the dignity of all, such Hasidic pioneer of coexistence, Lee Wiseman of Jihadi Jew http://jihadiyehudi.blogspot.com.au/ and http://www.facebook.com/groups/jihadijew/ .

[4] Talmud, Hullin 63a, Rashi on Leviticus 11:19

[5] Maor HaAfeila, cited in Torah Shlaima, vol 28, p.105

[6] Simpkins, N.S, S.G., (1831), Descriptive Scenes for Children, Boston http://www.archive.org/stream/descriptivescene00bostiala#page/n0/mode/1up,

[7] Leviticus 11:19

[8] This is the interpretation of Dores by Rabbenu Tam, Rashi has an alternative view

[9] Ramban on Leviticus 11:13

[10] Chidushei Harim, also attributed to the Rishiner

[11] The Lubavitcher Rebbe in Likutei Sichos

[12] Tanya, R. Schneur Zalman of Liadi, chapter 6, “Similarly, all words and all thoughts that are not directed to G‑d and to His Will and His service are all garments for the animal soul. For this is the meaning of the term sitra achra — literally “the other side,” i.e., not the side of holiness. Thus, whatever does not belong to the realm of holiness is sitra achra. But what, in fact, does the realm of holiness encompass? (In the Lessons in Tanya version)

[13] R. A, of Germaiza, cited in Torah Shlaima, vol 28, p.105

[14] Chemdat Yamim Part 1, p.69, cited in Torah Shlaima, vol 28, p.105. I have not been able to find any clear reference to this practice in other sources. I found the following statement “Breeding White Storks prefer lowland open habitats of wet pastures, flooded meadows, and shallow lakes and marshes with scattered trees for roosting and nesting.” http://nationalzoo.si.edu/Animals/Birds/Facts/FactSheets/fact-europwhitestork.cfm

[15] Ginsburgh, Rabbi Y, The Hebrew Letters, www.innermedia.org

[16] http://www.inner.org/hebleter/chet.htm

[17] Torat Cohanim

[18] Leviticus 10:1

[19] Torah Cohanim

[20] Ohr Hachayim on beginning of Acharie Mot

[21] Torat Cohanim

[22] Ginsburgh, Rabbi Y, The Hebrew Letters, http://www.inner.org/hebleter/chet.htm

[23] Rashi to Leviticus 9:7

[24] Mincha Belula, cited in Greenberg, A, Y, Torah Gems, Vol. 3, Y Orenstien/Yavneh Publishing/Chemed Books