The issue of "Half-Shabbos" is still on my mind, months after it broke in the media – but my approach has changed. At first I thought in terms of peer pressure and brain development, and then I blamed individualism/consumerism and the way that people of all religions are re-defining their beliefs and practices to suit their personal wants. But now I'm thinking again.
The aforementioned elements are important, but I've come to think that a major factor, perhaps The major factor, is that the kids who text on Shabbos are emulating their parents, who go "Half" in many halachic areas even as they tell their children to go "Whole". Herewith some examples:
Half-Emes
Slumlords and insider trading, home-based daycare centers operating without licenses, sheitel machers and at-home barbers taking cash only.
Half-Kashrus
"The Vaad says that's not kosher, but I think it's (a) a shift to the right, (b) just politics, (c) ignorance of 'real' halachah, (d) all of the above. I use it anyway – and Rabbi X says that's fine." "This bug thing is crazy." "They've gone too far this time." Sound familiar?
Half-Tznius
Movies and television shows which rebbeim tell their children are inappropriate for them – but which adults freely watch. Off-color jokes traded with a smirk. Sarcasm about school dress code policies.
When I was 12 or 13, a friend of mine babysat for a respected community figure. He was inappropriately curious, and he opened some cabinets he shouldn't have opened – and found some reading material which we had always learned didn't belong in a Torah-observant lifestyle. Of course, he told the rest of us… and what kind of message did that send us, as children?
Half-Tefillah
Coming to shul late, or leaving early, so that we only catch half of davening. Going out for a drink in the middle. Spending the repetition of the Amidah schmoozing with our neighbors. What is this, if not "Half-Tefillah"?
Half-Kavod haTorah
Complaints or slander about parents, teachers, and rabbis, both in the media we watch and in the words coming out of our own mouths – even as children learn that they are obligated to show respect to all of the above.
I could go on with more "Halves", but I think/hope the point is made – if adults are comfortable leading a "Half" Jewish lifestyle, why are we surprised that children do the same?
The irony is that adults are troubled by this. When I was a late teen, the constant refrain I heard was that mature adults understand that the world is not Black and White, but Gray – and that we teens had to grow up and learn to be Gray, too. I still hear that today; kids come back from Israel with an un-nuanced perspective, and their parents are frustrated.
Well, here we have a problem of a different stripe. Children absorb the justification offered by "Half" adults for their own conduct, that the world is Gray, and they make it their own.
For that matter, kids do it in many areas – sexual activity, davening, and more. So why are parents surprised and upset? Just because it's Shabbos?
Showing posts with label Jewish community: Modern Orthodoxy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jewish community: Modern Orthodoxy. Show all posts
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Saturday, July 9, 2011
North American Modern Orthodoxy and the Chief Rabbinate, Revisited
First: Please watch this new video from Rabbi Yakov Horowitz on protecting children from molestation.
After both of of last week's posts on Modern Orthodoxy outside of Israel and the Chief Rabbinate [Part I, Part II], I received an email from a new oleh asking me for leads on information about the Chief Rabbinate. In sending a few links, I noticed something that made me re-think the presentation I delivered this past Shabbos.
Specifically, it was this line from the website of the Chief Rabbinate: הרבנות הראשית משמשת לגבי הגולה לא רק כסמכות רוחנית בשאלות הלכתיות, אלא מהווה גם מרכז מידע לכל הקהילות היהודיות ולכל הגופים הנותנים כשרות בעולם. In translation: The Chief Rabbinate serves the Diaspora not only as an authority for halachic questions, but also as a central resource for information for all Jewish communities and all kosher-supervising agencies around the globe.
Would your North American community do that? Would your community, having a debate about tzedakah priorities, or kashrut policy, or the mechitzah, or interdenominational activity, send the shailah to Israel's Chief Rabbinate? I know Israelis who think that we should do this. But would we?
I hate to speak of divides between Jews inside and outside of Israel, since I believe all of us should be united and in Israel. But the truth is that the communities outside of Israel would not consult Israel's Chief Rabbinate on these matters.
I'd suggest a practical reason and a philosophical reason why we wouldn't:
Practical
Simple: The alienation that comes when we disagree with their decisions, and when we feel delegitimized over issues like conversion.
Philosophical
[Yes, I know this is going to get me into trouble with some fellow bloggers. It got me in trouble when I presented it today, too, although I believe that was mostly a matter of language.]
The idea that the Chief Rabbinate of Israel will dictate halachah for chutz la'aretz stems from a breed of Zionism that is very Rav Kook, very Ramban, very כל הדר בחוץ לארץ כאילו אין לו אלו-ה (the gemara's statement, end of Ketuvot, that one who lives outside of Israel is as though he has no link to Gd). In this view, which I must admit I find compelling spiritually and emotionally if not intellectually, the future of the Jews lies in Israel, Israel is the place to be a true Jew, chutznikim are simply Israelis who haven't found their passports yet, and all that is outside of Israel is only a satellite, a space station, destined to descend from orbit and either burn up or land in Israel.
But North American Modern Orthodoxy embraces a political tradition which owes a great deal to the history of local rabbinic authority in Judaism, and to the founding principles of American independence, the democracy rather than the Republic. This community demands that its authorities and representatives be of its own kind, and be familiar with its unique situation. Israel's primacy does not entirely eliminate the significance of Jewish life elsewhere, and the significance of the unique demands with which Diaspora Jewry lives.
I'm not sure there is a solution for the philosophical problem of the role of the Diaspora; any disagreement will lead to trouble when it is decreed that Israel should rule on issues affecting Diasporites. But at least for the practical problem, and to avoid the disagreements that trigger the philosophical objections, one solution may be to look for ways to make sure the selection process and decision-making process are inclusive and embracing.
After both of of last week's posts on Modern Orthodoxy outside of Israel and the Chief Rabbinate [Part I, Part II], I received an email from a new oleh asking me for leads on information about the Chief Rabbinate. In sending a few links, I noticed something that made me re-think the presentation I delivered this past Shabbos.
Specifically, it was this line from the website of the Chief Rabbinate: הרבנות הראשית משמשת לגבי הגולה לא רק כסמכות רוחנית בשאלות הלכתיות, אלא מהווה גם מרכז מידע לכל הקהילות היהודיות ולכל הגופים הנותנים כשרות בעולם. In translation: The Chief Rabbinate serves the Diaspora not only as an authority for halachic questions, but also as a central resource for information for all Jewish communities and all kosher-supervising agencies around the globe.
Would your North American community do that? Would your community, having a debate about tzedakah priorities, or kashrut policy, or the mechitzah, or interdenominational activity, send the shailah to Israel's Chief Rabbinate? I know Israelis who think that we should do this. But would we?
I hate to speak of divides between Jews inside and outside of Israel, since I believe all of us should be united and in Israel. But the truth is that the communities outside of Israel would not consult Israel's Chief Rabbinate on these matters.
I'd suggest a practical reason and a philosophical reason why we wouldn't:
Practical
Simple: The alienation that comes when we disagree with their decisions, and when we feel delegitimized over issues like conversion.
Philosophical
[Yes, I know this is going to get me into trouble with some fellow bloggers. It got me in trouble when I presented it today, too, although I believe that was mostly a matter of language.]
The idea that the Chief Rabbinate of Israel will dictate halachah for chutz la'aretz stems from a breed of Zionism that is very Rav Kook, very Ramban, very כל הדר בחוץ לארץ כאילו אין לו אלו-ה (the gemara's statement, end of Ketuvot, that one who lives outside of Israel is as though he has no link to Gd). In this view, which I must admit I find compelling spiritually and emotionally if not intellectually, the future of the Jews lies in Israel, Israel is the place to be a true Jew, chutznikim are simply Israelis who haven't found their passports yet, and all that is outside of Israel is only a satellite, a space station, destined to descend from orbit and either burn up or land in Israel.
But North American Modern Orthodoxy embraces a political tradition which owes a great deal to the history of local rabbinic authority in Judaism, and to the founding principles of American independence, the democracy rather than the Republic. This community demands that its authorities and representatives be of its own kind, and be familiar with its unique situation. Israel's primacy does not entirely eliminate the significance of Jewish life elsewhere, and the significance of the unique demands with which Diaspora Jewry lives.
I'm not sure there is a solution for the philosophical problem of the role of the Diaspora; any disagreement will lead to trouble when it is decreed that Israel should rule on issues affecting Diasporites. But at least for the practical problem, and to avoid the disagreements that trigger the philosophical objections, one solution may be to look for ways to make sure the selection process and decision-making process are inclusive and embracing.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Part II - Our disappointment in the Chief Rabbinate of Israel
In Part I here, I explained: I've been recruited to speak in a panel discussion this coming Shabbos, on Rabbinic Jurisdiction in Israel. Since I'm the North American on the panel (beside Rav Dovid Stav and Rabbanit Pnina Neuwirth), my responsibility is to talk about how North American, "Modern Orthodox" Jews feel about Israel's Chief Rabbinate.
In that first part, I talked about why North American Modern Orthodoxy loves the Chief Rabbinate – because of our love for its history, because of our hopefor a Judaism-guided administration in the State, and because of our desire for structure in our religious organizations.
At the same time, we are disappointed. Beyond the specific controversies, I see four reasons for our disappointment:
1. Reality
A real-world Chief Rabbinate, just like the rabbi in your shul, must choose between reasonable views and alienate those who adopt the opposing view. Sometimes the motivations are intellectual, sometimes subjective, sometimes political. And whereas one who is in a shul can argue with the rabbi, or daven at a different minyan, or leave the shul, we can't switch Israels.
2. Life in Galut
Modern Orthodox Jews living outside of Israel want to be ambassadors for Israel – and so headlines about conversion difficulties, or the troubles of the non-observant in navigating the Chief Rabbinate's bureaucracy, or acceptance of shackle-and-hoist schechitah, frustrate us. Further, for many Jews there is a concern for מה יאמרו הגויים, "What will the neighbors say".
3. Delegitimization
Modern Orthodoxy is very good about accepting those who are different – but when others come to discredit them in the name of Torah, whether from the Right or from the Left, they become quite hostile. This applies to the conversion crisis, but also to the discomfort some have over a lack of a Modern Orthodox presence in the Rabbinate and among its appointness.
4. Imposed authority
Although North American Modern Orthodoxy appreciates structure, they are heirs to the North American political tradtion and the concept of democracy over republic, the power of the individual over the presumed rightness of government. Witness, for example, the furor last year regarding the authority of Young Israel over its branches.
The result of this disappointment is alienation, and the opposite of the love that would otherwise thrive. Issues of Jewish identity, of beit din bureaucracy, of kashrut and heter mechirah and shechitah, become flashpoints. There is a definite need for a solution here.
In that first part, I talked about why North American Modern Orthodoxy loves the Chief Rabbinate – because of our love for its history, because of our hopefor a Judaism-guided administration in the State, and because of our desire for structure in our religious organizations.
At the same time, we are disappointed. Beyond the specific controversies, I see four reasons for our disappointment:
1. Reality
A real-world Chief Rabbinate, just like the rabbi in your shul, must choose between reasonable views and alienate those who adopt the opposing view. Sometimes the motivations are intellectual, sometimes subjective, sometimes political. And whereas one who is in a shul can argue with the rabbi, or daven at a different minyan, or leave the shul, we can't switch Israels.
2. Life in Galut
Modern Orthodox Jews living outside of Israel want to be ambassadors for Israel – and so headlines about conversion difficulties, or the troubles of the non-observant in navigating the Chief Rabbinate's bureaucracy, or acceptance of shackle-and-hoist schechitah, frustrate us. Further, for many Jews there is a concern for מה יאמרו הגויים, "What will the neighbors say".
3. Delegitimization
Modern Orthodoxy is very good about accepting those who are different – but when others come to discredit them in the name of Torah, whether from the Right or from the Left, they become quite hostile. This applies to the conversion crisis, but also to the discomfort some have over a lack of a Modern Orthodox presence in the Rabbinate and among its appointness.
4. Imposed authority
Although North American Modern Orthodoxy appreciates structure, they are heirs to the North American political tradtion and the concept of democracy over republic, the power of the individual over the presumed rightness of government. Witness, for example, the furor last year regarding the authority of Young Israel over its branches.
The result of this disappointment is alienation, and the opposite of the love that would otherwise thrive. Issues of Jewish identity, of beit din bureaucracy, of kashrut and heter mechirah and shechitah, become flashpoints. There is a definite need for a solution here.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Part I - Our love for the Chief Rabbinate of Israel
I've been recruited to speak in a panel discussion this coming Shabbos, on Rabbinic Jurisdiction in Israel. Since I'm the North American on the panel (beside Rav Dovid Stav and Rabbanit Pnina Neuwirth), my responsibility is to talk about how North American, "Modern Orthodox" Jews feel about Israel's Chief Rabbinate.
I think this should be more than a litany of the controversies involving that beleaguered institution. True, issues of Jewish identity [conversion, Russians, Ethiopians] are front and center in our minds. Other issues, like shackle-and-hoist shechitah, heter mechirah, problems facing people navigating the rabbinic bureaucracy and the corruption charges of several years ago are all major fault lines in our relationship with Israel's government-linked rabbinic leadership.
But, to my mind, in order to speak intelligently and appropriately (a modest goal) about these issues and the state of the relationship, we first need to understand why the North American, Modern Orthodox Jew is predisposed to love Israel's Chief Rabbinate. It's that love which makes the relationship so difficult; I believe we would not be half as exercised by our frustrations if we didn't long to embrace the Chief Rabbinate and call it our own.
I see three primary reasons for our affection:
1. History
The institution of the Chief Rabbinate reminds us of Rav Kook ודעימיה, religious leaders who promoted a serious, rigorous Torah observance while working hand-in-hand with secular Jews - a vision which mirrors idealized versions of our own communities, and for which we are nostalgic.
2. Concept
In theory, the Chief Rabbinate is a government-associated voice of religion, offering the possibility of a Judaism-guided administration in the State of Israel, while still allowing for the separation of church and state which appeals to North American Jews.
3. Practical
We want structure for our religious organizations, as seen in the creation of the OU and Young Israel synagogue movements. We resist imposed order – something I'll also discuss in the session – but we love order itself. Centralized authority offers that.
Then, we get into our disappointment in the institution, and what we might do about it...
I think this should be more than a litany of the controversies involving that beleaguered institution. True, issues of Jewish identity [conversion, Russians, Ethiopians] are front and center in our minds. Other issues, like shackle-and-hoist shechitah, heter mechirah, problems facing people navigating the rabbinic bureaucracy and the corruption charges of several years ago are all major fault lines in our relationship with Israel's government-linked rabbinic leadership.
But, to my mind, in order to speak intelligently and appropriately (a modest goal) about these issues and the state of the relationship, we first need to understand why the North American, Modern Orthodox Jew is predisposed to love Israel's Chief Rabbinate. It's that love which makes the relationship so difficult; I believe we would not be half as exercised by our frustrations if we didn't long to embrace the Chief Rabbinate and call it our own.
I see three primary reasons for our affection:
1. History
The institution of the Chief Rabbinate reminds us of Rav Kook ודעימיה, religious leaders who promoted a serious, rigorous Torah observance while working hand-in-hand with secular Jews - a vision which mirrors idealized versions of our own communities, and for which we are nostalgic.
2. Concept
In theory, the Chief Rabbinate is a government-associated voice of religion, offering the possibility of a Judaism-guided administration in the State of Israel, while still allowing for the separation of church and state which appeals to North American Jews.
3. Practical
We want structure for our religious organizations, as seen in the creation of the OU and Young Israel synagogue movements. We resist imposed order – something I'll also discuss in the session – but we love order itself. Centralized authority offers that.
Then, we get into our disappointment in the institution, and what we might do about it...
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Tznius and Modern Orthodoxy
[ This week's Haveil Havalim is here]
First: I dislike the term “tznius” as applied to clothing, because it more accurately refers – both linguistically and historically - to an overarching sense of privacy and humility, expressed in all levels of behavior. However, “tznius” is the term our generation uses to refer to Judaism’s traditional, conservative halachic and philosophical approach to dress. So I’ll use it here.
Second: I also dislike the term “Modern Orthodoxy”... but we’ve been through that before.
This past week I witnessed a discussion on the reasons why many in the Modern Orthodox community are lax regarding tznius.
Some participants laid the blame on popular ignorance, and I suppose that is a part of it - especially as our leaders and role models send mixed messages on the issue, even in their own dress. How many of our kids go to shabbatonim or youth programs where their advisors dress in a manner that is less-than-tzanua?
To this I'd add that many Jews don't recognize the difference between halachah, minhag and personal preference in these matters.
And I’d add an agnatological point: It’s a willful ignorance, as many don’t want to learn more, and therefore they don’t know more.
I also think part of it is that some modern rabbis mock those who dress in a more tzanua way, or in a more chassidish way (how many times have I heard people justify their own choice of garb by mocking those who dress "like a 16th century Polish nobleman"), and this adds fuel to the non-tzanua fire.
Both the ignorance and the scorn are eminently solvable, though, via commitment to greater education, and to respect for those whose practices are different.
I think another, more challenging point is the Universalist ideology that is second nature to Modern Orthodox Jews – an appreciation for the value of our world, and a desire to engage other citizens of that world as equals. This Universalism, perhaps better rendered as Humanism, makes tznius difficult.
Being tzanua in a non-tzanua world, and believing that being tzanua is a moral statement rather than a technical observance, carries the implication that those around us are immoral, or less moral than we are. This runs counter to the idea that the people around us are our moral equals.
And being tzanua in a non-tzanua world makes mixing in society difficult. Today’s multiculturalism encourages tolerance of the Other, but not engagement of the Other. The tzanua is definitely the Other, and has a hard time feeling socially accepted.
In a sense, the anti-tznius phenomenon manifests the flip side of the parochialism practiced by other groups of Jews. Parochialism, taken to its extreme, causes its practitioners to (a) look down on others, and (b) avoid activities which will help them blend in. And universalism/humanism does the opposite.
Perhaps one solution is a more nuanced universalism. A universalism which deems all equal in substance (Tzelem Elokim), but not in actions. A universalism which is balanced with the rest of our halachic/philosophical values. Allowing any one plank in our platform to become outsized is unhealthy.
Ultimately, dressing in a tzanua manner is an expression of a halachic and philosophical value of our Judaism. Whether this is dropped out of ignorance, or scorn, or a desire to blend in, the result is the loss of a major element of Judaism, and a significant lacking in each individual's experience of Torah.
[You might also see this old post from November '08.]
First: I dislike the term “tznius” as applied to clothing, because it more accurately refers – both linguistically and historically - to an overarching sense of privacy and humility, expressed in all levels of behavior. However, “tznius” is the term our generation uses to refer to Judaism’s traditional, conservative halachic and philosophical approach to dress. So I’ll use it here.
Second: I also dislike the term “Modern Orthodoxy”... but we’ve been through that before.
This past week I witnessed a discussion on the reasons why many in the Modern Orthodox community are lax regarding tznius.
Some participants laid the blame on popular ignorance, and I suppose that is a part of it - especially as our leaders and role models send mixed messages on the issue, even in their own dress. How many of our kids go to shabbatonim or youth programs where their advisors dress in a manner that is less-than-tzanua?
To this I'd add that many Jews don't recognize the difference between halachah, minhag and personal preference in these matters.
And I’d add an agnatological point: It’s a willful ignorance, as many don’t want to learn more, and therefore they don’t know more.
I also think part of it is that some modern rabbis mock those who dress in a more tzanua way, or in a more chassidish way (how many times have I heard people justify their own choice of garb by mocking those who dress "like a 16th century Polish nobleman"), and this adds fuel to the non-tzanua fire.
Both the ignorance and the scorn are eminently solvable, though, via commitment to greater education, and to respect for those whose practices are different.
I think another, more challenging point is the Universalist ideology that is second nature to Modern Orthodox Jews – an appreciation for the value of our world, and a desire to engage other citizens of that world as equals. This Universalism, perhaps better rendered as Humanism, makes tznius difficult.
Being tzanua in a non-tzanua world, and believing that being tzanua is a moral statement rather than a technical observance, carries the implication that those around us are immoral, or less moral than we are. This runs counter to the idea that the people around us are our moral equals.
And being tzanua in a non-tzanua world makes mixing in society difficult. Today’s multiculturalism encourages tolerance of the Other, but not engagement of the Other. The tzanua is definitely the Other, and has a hard time feeling socially accepted.
In a sense, the anti-tznius phenomenon manifests the flip side of the parochialism practiced by other groups of Jews. Parochialism, taken to its extreme, causes its practitioners to (a) look down on others, and (b) avoid activities which will help them blend in. And universalism/humanism does the opposite.
Perhaps one solution is a more nuanced universalism. A universalism which deems all equal in substance (Tzelem Elokim), but not in actions. A universalism which is balanced with the rest of our halachic/philosophical values. Allowing any one plank in our platform to become outsized is unhealthy.
Ultimately, dressing in a tzanua manner is an expression of a halachic and philosophical value of our Judaism. Whether this is dropped out of ignorance, or scorn, or a desire to blend in, the result is the loss of a major element of Judaism, and a significant lacking in each individual's experience of Torah.
[You might also see this old post from November '08.]
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Toward a Modern Orthodox Ideology
A dozen years ago, a rabbi who was among the founders of Edah explained to me that Edah was meant to develop an ideology for Modern Orthodoxy. As he put it, the vision of Modern Orthodoxy cannot be, “I’m Modern Orthodox because I go to shul and I go to movies.”
A dozen years later, I am told that Edah, for better or for worse, no longer exists. In the meantime, Modern Orthodoxy, for many of its adherents as well as opponents, still lacks a formal ideology. And I agree with that rabbi – this movement needs an ideology.
Movies or Israel, Kashrut or Secular Education or Women’s Issues, no matter the topic, the choices which guide our lives must derive from a sound philosophy. Without such a driving engine, our religious practice, and even belief, are a function of our needs/wants rather than religious tradition and teachings, and that’s no way to run a movement.
But I think such an ideology is within reach, if we first define the term Modern Orthodox itself.
As I understand it (and some people might not even consider me Modern Orthodox in the first place, so take this with a grain of salt) "Modern Orthodoxy" describes an Orthodoxy which absorbs what we believe to be valuable in the Modern ideological world, if and only if those valuable ideas jive with our Orthodox tradition.
Or to borrow from R’ Shimshon Raphael Hirsch’s introduction to Horeb: Orthodoxy is שמעתתא and Modernity is אגדתא. Modernity provides insight into Orthodoxy, but only when it does not conflict with that Orthodoxy.
Given that definition, I would suggest that an ideology of Modern Orthodoxy should be composed of the basic primacy of Orthodoxy, as well as the ideas we have embraced from Modernity.
To illustrate, here are three modern isms which Modern Orthodoxy has embraced, having found their basis within Orthodoxy as well:
Universalism
Universalism, in my usage, implies an embrace of the world as a whole, in the recognition that all human beings are created in the special image assigned to them by Gd (Tzelem Elokim).
This modern idea, rooted in Enlightenment-era philosophy, leads to the conclusion that all human beings constitute a family of some sort, and it also promotes the idea that all human beings may have some lesson to teach me.
This idea is manifest in Modern Orthodox ideas of:
religious tolerance;
equal opportunity for religious education and religious engagement;
engagement with society;
study of both Jewish and secular wisdom.
Self-Determination
Self-Determination, here, refers to the right and responsibility of any individual or collective to determine their future path.
This modern idea, which has its roots in centuries-old political theory, teaches that if we wish to have a better lot we ought to take charge of creating that better lot for ourselves. Lack of control is the result of my own failure to create my own destiny.
This concept plays out in Modern Orthodox ideas of:
Zionism;
Political action.
Rationalism
Rationalism, as defined by Vernon Bourke, is an approach in which “the criterion of the truth is not sensory but intellectual and deductive.”
This idea is less modern than the previous two, but it has gained significant ground in the public mind in recent centuries. It demands of us that we detemine truth based upon observable reality.
This concept generates Modern Orthodox ideas of:
Serious study of Jewish tradition, from text;
Adherence to text over tradition;
Secular study;
Skepticism toward mysticism.
Note, though:
While all three of these ideas have clear antecedents in both תורה שבכתב and תורה שבעל פה (the Written and Spoken Torah), nonetheless, they are not consistent with every aspect of Torah.
Universalism runs afoul of the particularism which drives laws governing ribbit, avdut and more. It also conflicts with mystical ideas, embraced by Kuzari as well as Chassidut, of the special character of the Jewish neshamah.
Self-Determination conflicts with some applications of bitachon (trust in Gd) and the expectation that we will rely on Gd to assign us our destiny.
Rationalism, unchecked by loyalty to tradition and revelation, risks violating the basic principle that Modernity must conform with Orthodoxy.
So that's a start. Universalism, Self-Determination and Rationalism, within the context of a robust Orthodoxy, are but a few pieces of a Modern Orthodox ideology; can you identify more?
A dozen years later, I am told that Edah, for better or for worse, no longer exists. In the meantime, Modern Orthodoxy, for many of its adherents as well as opponents, still lacks a formal ideology. And I agree with that rabbi – this movement needs an ideology.
Movies or Israel, Kashrut or Secular Education or Women’s Issues, no matter the topic, the choices which guide our lives must derive from a sound philosophy. Without such a driving engine, our religious practice, and even belief, are a function of our needs/wants rather than religious tradition and teachings, and that’s no way to run a movement.
But I think such an ideology is within reach, if we first define the term Modern Orthodox itself.
As I understand it (and some people might not even consider me Modern Orthodox in the first place, so take this with a grain of salt) "Modern Orthodoxy" describes an Orthodoxy which absorbs what we believe to be valuable in the Modern ideological world, if and only if those valuable ideas jive with our Orthodox tradition.
Or to borrow from R’ Shimshon Raphael Hirsch’s introduction to Horeb: Orthodoxy is שמעתתא and Modernity is אגדתא. Modernity provides insight into Orthodoxy, but only when it does not conflict with that Orthodoxy.
Given that definition, I would suggest that an ideology of Modern Orthodoxy should be composed of the basic primacy of Orthodoxy, as well as the ideas we have embraced from Modernity.
To illustrate, here are three modern isms which Modern Orthodoxy has embraced, having found their basis within Orthodoxy as well:
Universalism
Universalism, in my usage, implies an embrace of the world as a whole, in the recognition that all human beings are created in the special image assigned to them by Gd (Tzelem Elokim).
This modern idea, rooted in Enlightenment-era philosophy, leads to the conclusion that all human beings constitute a family of some sort, and it also promotes the idea that all human beings may have some lesson to teach me.
This idea is manifest in Modern Orthodox ideas of:
religious tolerance;
equal opportunity for religious education and religious engagement;
engagement with society;
study of both Jewish and secular wisdom.
Self-Determination
Self-Determination, here, refers to the right and responsibility of any individual or collective to determine their future path.
This modern idea, which has its roots in centuries-old political theory, teaches that if we wish to have a better lot we ought to take charge of creating that better lot for ourselves. Lack of control is the result of my own failure to create my own destiny.
This concept plays out in Modern Orthodox ideas of:
Zionism;
Political action.
Rationalism
Rationalism, as defined by Vernon Bourke, is an approach in which “the criterion of the truth is not sensory but intellectual and deductive.”
This idea is less modern than the previous two, but it has gained significant ground in the public mind in recent centuries. It demands of us that we detemine truth based upon observable reality.
This concept generates Modern Orthodox ideas of:
Serious study of Jewish tradition, from text;
Adherence to text over tradition;
Secular study;
Skepticism toward mysticism.
Note, though:
While all three of these ideas have clear antecedents in both תורה שבכתב and תורה שבעל פה (the Written and Spoken Torah), nonetheless, they are not consistent with every aspect of Torah.
Universalism runs afoul of the particularism which drives laws governing ribbit, avdut and more. It also conflicts with mystical ideas, embraced by Kuzari as well as Chassidut, of the special character of the Jewish neshamah.
Self-Determination conflicts with some applications of bitachon (trust in Gd) and the expectation that we will rely on Gd to assign us our destiny.
Rationalism, unchecked by loyalty to tradition and revelation, risks violating the basic principle that Modernity must conform with Orthodoxy.
So that's a start. Universalism, Self-Determination and Rationalism, within the context of a robust Orthodoxy, are but a few pieces of a Modern Orthodox ideology; can you identify more?
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
The "Conversations" of Open Orthodoxy - one rabbi's humble review
I'm staying near the Convention Center in Philadelphia for a couple of days, so I walked to Mikveh Israel for shacharis (more appropriate to write shaharit there, I suppose) this morning. Sad to see how hard it is to get a minyan there, but it's understandable; there's no housing for a community anywhere near there.
So while we waited for the minyan to arrive, I thumbed through Conversations, a journal published by R' Marc Angel's new Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals. I read through the first half-dozen articles. I hate to say it – and I sincerely mean I hate to say it – but after R' Dov Linzer's opening piece, the rest just didn't do anything for me.
I hate to say it, for two reasons:
1) I am generally uncomfortable labeling any approach, whether close to mine or far from it, as 'wrong.' I know well that I am not the smartest or best-educated person in the world, that I am not a navi, and that others have access to all the information I have seen and yet they have arrived at conclusions which are different from my own, so why should I have a monopoly on truth?
2) I want to believe that the writers in this journal, largely proponents of 'Open Orthodoxy' if the articles I read are any indication, are correct. When they insist that there is great halachic basis for interaction with the secular world, and for interdenominational dialogue, I want to believe they are right; after all, those represent much of what I do on a daily basis!
So I flipped page after page, looking for the sources to support these enlightened claims. But after the first article (in which R' Linzer made a strong claim for a healthier halachic label for, and attitude toward, non-practicing and non-believing Jews, a claim that matches some of what I have written here on the blog regarding a more respectful approach to outreach), the rest simply left me asking, “Where's the beef?”
The articles' arguments came down to two:
1) Argument from history – We can take these more open approaches, because Rav Hai Gaon or Ibn Ezra or Abarbanel seemed to do so, because not everyone accepted Rambam's philosophical principles as normative until the anti-Reform backlash, because Chabad sort of does it, etc.
2) Argument from practicality – We need these more open approaches because we want to lead the Jewish world, because Jews are assimilating, because this makes us true Jews of the world etc.
The former contention relies on a straw man argument, proposing that the promoters of “closed Orthodoxy” are defeated if we can show that Rambam's philosophy is not normative, or that a few sages over the centuries have said things which can be seen as “open.”
But the “closed” approach looks not to cherry-picked quotations from individual authorities, but rather to the weight of Jewish tradition. To cite Rav Hai Gaon or Abarbanel's citation of a Christian philosopher without also citing Rabbi Akiva's statement that those who read 'sefarim hachitzonim' will not have Olam HaBa, or to cite Rambam's own statement that we should treat Karaites with respect (so long as they drop their anti-Talmudic beliefs, by the way, a view mirrored by R' Eliyahu Mizrahi later on regarding teaching Torah to Karaites) without also citing Rambam's fundamentals of belief, is unimpressive and fails to deal with the real question at hand:Can we find a chain of strong Jewish tradition, established in sources, to support an Open Orthodox approach? And if not, why should I accept your stripped-down version of Jewish tradition?
(I am also surprised that a statue of the Rambam graces the Jewish Ideas and Ideals homepage, given the way so many of the Conversations articles are devoted to rejecting his philosophy!)
The argument from practicality is equally fallacious, for it relies on defining a need, as well as a solution, with which reasonable people could - and I believe should - disagree:
Need: I'm not so sure that secular Jewry, or Conservative or Reconstructionist or Reform Jewry, really want or need my leadership. Speaking personally, I sit on a board of Jewish clergy with clergy from all of those groups, but I would never presume to consider myself a 'leader,' nor do I expect they would view me as such.
Solution: Further, the solution of “let us engage them as equals,” while appealing to a post-French Revolution sensibility, is hardly the only logical approach. I stress that I, personally, try to treat everyone with respect regardless of their views – but I hardly believe that this is the key to halting assimilation or leading the Jewish world.
In sum:
1) I want to believe in Open Orthodoxy;
2) I will not be able to do so until the proponents of this view more convincingly demonstrate that it is solidly in line with Jewish tradition and halachah, or more strongly define the need for this approach and its legitimacy as the solution for that need.
I hope for a stronger argument in Volume Two.
So while we waited for the minyan to arrive, I thumbed through Conversations, a journal published by R' Marc Angel's new Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals. I read through the first half-dozen articles. I hate to say it – and I sincerely mean I hate to say it – but after R' Dov Linzer's opening piece, the rest just didn't do anything for me.
I hate to say it, for two reasons:
1) I am generally uncomfortable labeling any approach, whether close to mine or far from it, as 'wrong.' I know well that I am not the smartest or best-educated person in the world, that I am not a navi, and that others have access to all the information I have seen and yet they have arrived at conclusions which are different from my own, so why should I have a monopoly on truth?
2) I want to believe that the writers in this journal, largely proponents of 'Open Orthodoxy' if the articles I read are any indication, are correct. When they insist that there is great halachic basis for interaction with the secular world, and for interdenominational dialogue, I want to believe they are right; after all, those represent much of what I do on a daily basis!
So I flipped page after page, looking for the sources to support these enlightened claims. But after the first article (in which R' Linzer made a strong claim for a healthier halachic label for, and attitude toward, non-practicing and non-believing Jews, a claim that matches some of what I have written here on the blog regarding a more respectful approach to outreach), the rest simply left me asking, “Where's the beef?”
The articles' arguments came down to two:
1) Argument from history – We can take these more open approaches, because Rav Hai Gaon or Ibn Ezra or Abarbanel seemed to do so, because not everyone accepted Rambam's philosophical principles as normative until the anti-Reform backlash, because Chabad sort of does it, etc.
2) Argument from practicality – We need these more open approaches because we want to lead the Jewish world, because Jews are assimilating, because this makes us true Jews of the world etc.
The former contention relies on a straw man argument, proposing that the promoters of “closed Orthodoxy” are defeated if we can show that Rambam's philosophy is not normative, or that a few sages over the centuries have said things which can be seen as “open.”
But the “closed” approach looks not to cherry-picked quotations from individual authorities, but rather to the weight of Jewish tradition. To cite Rav Hai Gaon or Abarbanel's citation of a Christian philosopher without also citing Rabbi Akiva's statement that those who read 'sefarim hachitzonim' will not have Olam HaBa, or to cite Rambam's own statement that we should treat Karaites with respect (so long as they drop their anti-Talmudic beliefs, by the way, a view mirrored by R' Eliyahu Mizrahi later on regarding teaching Torah to Karaites) without also citing Rambam's fundamentals of belief, is unimpressive and fails to deal with the real question at hand:Can we find a chain of strong Jewish tradition, established in sources, to support an Open Orthodox approach? And if not, why should I accept your stripped-down version of Jewish tradition?
(I am also surprised that a statue of the Rambam graces the Jewish Ideas and Ideals homepage, given the way so many of the Conversations articles are devoted to rejecting his philosophy!)
The argument from practicality is equally fallacious, for it relies on defining a need, as well as a solution, with which reasonable people could - and I believe should - disagree:
Need: I'm not so sure that secular Jewry, or Conservative or Reconstructionist or Reform Jewry, really want or need my leadership. Speaking personally, I sit on a board of Jewish clergy with clergy from all of those groups, but I would never presume to consider myself a 'leader,' nor do I expect they would view me as such.
Solution: Further, the solution of “let us engage them as equals,” while appealing to a post-French Revolution sensibility, is hardly the only logical approach. I stress that I, personally, try to treat everyone with respect regardless of their views – but I hardly believe that this is the key to halting assimilation or leading the Jewish world.
In sum:
1) I want to believe in Open Orthodoxy;
2) I will not be able to do so until the proponents of this view more convincingly demonstrate that it is solidly in line with Jewish tradition and halachah, or more strongly define the need for this approach and its legitimacy as the solution for that need.
I hope for a stronger argument in Volume Two.

Monday, January 28, 2008
Flipped Out: Life on the Fringes of Modern Orthodoxy
My “Modern Orthodoxy” has been called into question in personal conversation a couple of times recently, and each time it was odd and unsettling.
It felt odd, because I never would have thought the question would unsettle me. I’ve never liked the “Modern Orthodox” label. It feels somewhat pretentious - “Look at us, we’ve upgraded the system” – even though it usually isn’t meant that way.
And it was unsettling, because I didn’t think there should have been a question. I was educated in Modern Orthodox schools – Hebrew Academy of Long Beach, MTA for high school, Yeshiva University. I grew up in a Modern Orthodox home, in a Modern Orthodox shul with a Modern Orthodox rabbi. I believe in advanced Jewish education for women, in Zionism, in creating kiddush HaShem through involvement in the broader, secular world. I listen to Weezer and Linkin Park. I am part of a Jewish clergy group that runs the gamut, and occasionally speak in reform and conservative temples. I believe in Jewish unity beyond my own narrow frequency on the denominational spectrum.
So I’ve always taken it as a given that I fit into the “Modern Orthodox” mold, to one extent or another, and I don’t think there should be any question.
But then came the questions - not from people who really knew me, but from people who met me for the first time and read a lot into what they saw. I wear a hat for davening. I have a beard. I put my tallis over my head. I believe that some men (and women) should spend their lives in learning Torah. I am not a fan of women’s tefillah groups. I am not willing to support Modern Orthodox schools to the exclusion of supporting all others.
And so, it seems, some have decided that I no longer fit into Modern Orthodoxy.
I half-expect MTA to go back and crop me out of the yearbook photo.
All of this comes to mind as I continue to mull Flipping Out, from Yashar Books.
I read this book when it first came out and recommended it to quite a few people, as a good first look at the statistics and sociology of our children’s “Year in Israel” evolution – but I felt something was missing, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
I liked the statistical analysis by Rabbi Shalom Berger in the first part, and I really appreciated the perceptive psychological analysis by Rabbi Daniel Jacobson in the second part. The book captures much of what parents are wondering about, and it gives them some ideas on how to prepare for, and cope with, the changes their children will likely manifest. I would have liked to have seen more on women’s seminaries – data which the authors did indicate should be coming soon – and I would have liked to have seen more practical guidance, but beyond that I felt something substantive was missing.
Now, I think I know: The book is missing an in-depth contrast between the religious milieu in which today’s teens live, and that of their parents thirty to fifty years ago, when they were teens. It's not the Year in Israel - it's everything that comes before the Year.
President Joel insightfully noted in his Foreword that the year in Israel should be seen as part of an educational continuum, not an end and not an entity unto itself. It is part of a bigger picture of environment and influences and formal/informal education. Following that thought, I think any serious look at this generational shift really ought to begin by asking about the differences between the pre-Israel experiences of the parents and their children. The book does touch on these issues, such as when both Rabbi Berger and Rabbi Jacobson talk about the pre-disposition of our children for change based upon their previous educational experiences, but not in an intense way, devoting a section to this discussion.
Some examples of key areas of difference between the lives of North American Jewish youth 30-50 years ago, and the lives of today’s North American youth:
-The political and economic strength of today’s Jewish community, and a resultant sense that we can be more fully Jewish and less compromising in our integration into society;
-The influence of NCSY, as well as other groups, in giving children a strong Jewish identity;
-The ubiquity of “right wing” influences, which were once seen as anachronistic and all-but-extinct but have now become a powerful voice in North American, and world, Jewry;
-The inculcation of religious ideas, with children growing up hearing – in school, camp, Jewish music, everywhere in the Jewish world - about an emphasis on talmud torah and mitzvos and deveikus to HaShem, and then attending yeshivot where those are presented as attainable goals.
Modern Orthodoxy, in any generation, is as much a product of its surroundings as it is a product of R’ Shimshon Raphael Hirsch or Rav Soloveitchik. I believe that one of the major reasons today’s youth have a version of Modern Orthodoxy that differs from the version of their parents is simply that they live in a different world, which sets up different poles and different compromises.
This is certainly true for me. As much as my own evolution in Israel was a function of the unique experiences and relationships from which I benefited there (Yeshivat Kerem b’Yavneh), I think it was really much more a product of these surrounding factors, of my upbringing and education and world. I hope that a future version of “Flipping Out” might add that to the formula as well.
It felt odd, because I never would have thought the question would unsettle me. I’ve never liked the “Modern Orthodox” label. It feels somewhat pretentious - “Look at us, we’ve upgraded the system” – even though it usually isn’t meant that way.
And it was unsettling, because I didn’t think there should have been a question. I was educated in Modern Orthodox schools – Hebrew Academy of Long Beach, MTA for high school, Yeshiva University. I grew up in a Modern Orthodox home, in a Modern Orthodox shul with a Modern Orthodox rabbi. I believe in advanced Jewish education for women, in Zionism, in creating kiddush HaShem through involvement in the broader, secular world. I listen to Weezer and Linkin Park. I am part of a Jewish clergy group that runs the gamut, and occasionally speak in reform and conservative temples. I believe in Jewish unity beyond my own narrow frequency on the denominational spectrum.
So I’ve always taken it as a given that I fit into the “Modern Orthodox” mold, to one extent or another, and I don’t think there should be any question.
But then came the questions - not from people who really knew me, but from people who met me for the first time and read a lot into what they saw. I wear a hat for davening. I have a beard. I put my tallis over my head. I believe that some men (and women) should spend their lives in learning Torah. I am not a fan of women’s tefillah groups. I am not willing to support Modern Orthodox schools to the exclusion of supporting all others.
And so, it seems, some have decided that I no longer fit into Modern Orthodoxy.
I half-expect MTA to go back and crop me out of the yearbook photo.
All of this comes to mind as I continue to mull Flipping Out, from Yashar Books.
I read this book when it first came out and recommended it to quite a few people, as a good first look at the statistics and sociology of our children’s “Year in Israel” evolution – but I felt something was missing, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
I liked the statistical analysis by Rabbi Shalom Berger in the first part, and I really appreciated the perceptive psychological analysis by Rabbi Daniel Jacobson in the second part. The book captures much of what parents are wondering about, and it gives them some ideas on how to prepare for, and cope with, the changes their children will likely manifest. I would have liked to have seen more on women’s seminaries – data which the authors did indicate should be coming soon – and I would have liked to have seen more practical guidance, but beyond that I felt something substantive was missing.
Now, I think I know: The book is missing an in-depth contrast between the religious milieu in which today’s teens live, and that of their parents thirty to fifty years ago, when they were teens. It's not the Year in Israel - it's everything that comes before the Year.
President Joel insightfully noted in his Foreword that the year in Israel should be seen as part of an educational continuum, not an end and not an entity unto itself. It is part of a bigger picture of environment and influences and formal/informal education. Following that thought, I think any serious look at this generational shift really ought to begin by asking about the differences between the pre-Israel experiences of the parents and their children. The book does touch on these issues, such as when both Rabbi Berger and Rabbi Jacobson talk about the pre-disposition of our children for change based upon their previous educational experiences, but not in an intense way, devoting a section to this discussion.
Some examples of key areas of difference between the lives of North American Jewish youth 30-50 years ago, and the lives of today’s North American youth:
-The political and economic strength of today’s Jewish community, and a resultant sense that we can be more fully Jewish and less compromising in our integration into society;
-The influence of NCSY, as well as other groups, in giving children a strong Jewish identity;
-The ubiquity of “right wing” influences, which were once seen as anachronistic and all-but-extinct but have now become a powerful voice in North American, and world, Jewry;
-The inculcation of religious ideas, with children growing up hearing – in school, camp, Jewish music, everywhere in the Jewish world - about an emphasis on talmud torah and mitzvos and deveikus to HaShem, and then attending yeshivot where those are presented as attainable goals.
Modern Orthodoxy, in any generation, is as much a product of its surroundings as it is a product of R’ Shimshon Raphael Hirsch or Rav Soloveitchik. I believe that one of the major reasons today’s youth have a version of Modern Orthodoxy that differs from the version of their parents is simply that they live in a different world, which sets up different poles and different compromises.
This is certainly true for me. As much as my own evolution in Israel was a function of the unique experiences and relationships from which I benefited there (Yeshivat Kerem b’Yavneh), I think it was really much more a product of these surrounding factors, of my upbringing and education and world. I hope that a future version of “Flipping Out” might add that to the formula as well.
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