It's a standard human defense mechanism: If someone gives me a hard time, I am apt to find fault in my critic, in return. Thus, per a talmudic observation which is echoed in general society, we have a hard time accepting rebuke; our own critics' flaws are so large and glaring that any rebuke is easily dismissed as coming from an unworthy source.
As a result, it is understandable that a Rabbi might respond to criticism by looking down on his critics. Indeed, one relative of a synagogue rabbi once warned me [before I entered the rabbinate anyway] that many synagogue board members were frustrated at their own lack of authority in their careers and at home, so that they joined the board to find someone to boss around, and upon whom to take out their frustrations.
This was a rational, if unproductive, response to criticism.
The reaction is not limited to Rabbis, of course; I've heard the same sentiment from community workers in other Jewish institutions, as well as in non-Jewish institutions. All of us receive criticism, but those who invest their greatest efforts in working for the community tend to receive it more than others, and may well grow frustrated and lash out in response.
Four observations, though:
1. In my experience, the idea that people join synagogue boards in order to lord over others is rarely true. Everyone has their faults, and some people use authority to validate themselves, but that's about where it ends.
2. This kind of perspective is damaging to the Rabbi. Putting down your persecutor doesn’t make you any better at your job, and is likely to make you worse at it.
3. A gemara in Nedarim (81a) asks why the children of Torah scholars do not become Torah scholars. One answer offered is that Torah scholars are guilty of calling regular people "donkeys"; apparently, this sort of disdain is a turn-off to their children, let alone others. [See Chatam Sofer there, who cites a related passage from a gemara in Shabbos which I cannot locate in our editions.]
4. Finally: Even in the case of a critic who is acting out due to personal weakness, the Rabbi might ask himself whether he has an opportunity, and even an obligation, to help this critic grow. As I've cited here before, Rav Chaim of Volozhin insisted that the sole purpose of our existence on Earth is to help others; if so, this critic may need help in realizing his Divine mission. If the Rabbi can get past the pain of his experience and find a way to help the critic become more positive and productive, he will have accomplished a great thing.
Showing posts with label Jewish community: Criticism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jewish community: Criticism. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
Owning the Rabbi
A friend of mine, a Rabbi, once received an anonymous letter complaining about an element of his wardrobe. Other Rabbis have other stories of such communications. I presented my view on anonymous letters a while back, but I'd like to discuss the content of such letters, instead.
Rabbis are under observation all of the time, on anything and everything, but that's not unique to clergy. Having people notice your style of dress – or diet, or exercise, or sense of humor – is normal for human beings. Clergy are not the only ones who live in a fishbowl; all of us are constantly under observation by the people around us. The difference is that many people – not one, but many - often feel free to comment aloud, and rudely, when it comes to the Rabbi.
If I go to a restaurant and sit beside a loud talker, I might move to another table. If I sit next to a person with bad body odor on a train, I might change seats. If I see someone wearing a hideous tie, I may make a mental note to check my own ties for such a lack of taste. And then I move on. Only if something is particularly egregious, and apparently intentional, will a normal human being engage the offender – and then politely and positively, not with an anonymous screed.
But if it’s the Rabbi, then plenty of polite and positive people will tell the Rabbi – nicely or otherwise - that he should really keep his voice down, or that his tie is a problem. They might even find a way to hint at the body odor. And that's in the best circumstance; in another universe they might resign from the shul, and/or broadcast their complaint to their 100 closest friends.
That's what creates the fishbowl – not the fact that a few people are looking, but the fact that everyone is looking, everyone is commenting, and often without sensitivity.
I believe that many people genuinely intend to be helpful, and their comments can be very beneficial. But for a dangerous minority, it comes from a sense of ownership, as though my dues, or even my presence at minyan, means that I have a form of baalus [gemara terminology, translating roughly and inaccurately to 'mastery'] over the Rabbi. There's a sign across his back, "Property of Congregation _____________". [Shades of Rav Yaakov Emden and שלא עשני עבד-אב"ד.] To me, this is not healthy.
We want members to feel invested in the institution, and we want the Rabbi to be sensitive to their needs and wants, so I can't say that members should ignore the Rabbi's conduct. It's also true – as explained in various gemara passages – that the Rabbi should make sure his clothing is clean, his manner reputable and his comport respectable, so I can't say that the Rabbi should do as he pleases.
But maybe we shouldn't comment for every thing; there should be a threshold of significance.
And maybe it shouldn't be all of us making these comments.
And maybe it shouldn't be an anonymous letter.
What do you think?
Rabbis are under observation all of the time, on anything and everything, but that's not unique to clergy. Having people notice your style of dress – or diet, or exercise, or sense of humor – is normal for human beings. Clergy are not the only ones who live in a fishbowl; all of us are constantly under observation by the people around us. The difference is that many people – not one, but many - often feel free to comment aloud, and rudely, when it comes to the Rabbi.
If I go to a restaurant and sit beside a loud talker, I might move to another table. If I sit next to a person with bad body odor on a train, I might change seats. If I see someone wearing a hideous tie, I may make a mental note to check my own ties for such a lack of taste. And then I move on. Only if something is particularly egregious, and apparently intentional, will a normal human being engage the offender – and then politely and positively, not with an anonymous screed.
But if it’s the Rabbi, then plenty of polite and positive people will tell the Rabbi – nicely or otherwise - that he should really keep his voice down, or that his tie is a problem. They might even find a way to hint at the body odor. And that's in the best circumstance; in another universe they might resign from the shul, and/or broadcast their complaint to their 100 closest friends.
That's what creates the fishbowl – not the fact that a few people are looking, but the fact that everyone is looking, everyone is commenting, and often without sensitivity.
I believe that many people genuinely intend to be helpful, and their comments can be very beneficial. But for a dangerous minority, it comes from a sense of ownership, as though my dues, or even my presence at minyan, means that I have a form of baalus [gemara terminology, translating roughly and inaccurately to 'mastery'] over the Rabbi. There's a sign across his back, "Property of Congregation _____________". [Shades of Rav Yaakov Emden and שלא עשני עבד-אב"ד.] To me, this is not healthy.
We want members to feel invested in the institution, and we want the Rabbi to be sensitive to their needs and wants, so I can't say that members should ignore the Rabbi's conduct. It's also true – as explained in various gemara passages – that the Rabbi should make sure his clothing is clean, his manner reputable and his comport respectable, so I can't say that the Rabbi should do as he pleases.
But maybe we shouldn't comment for every thing; there should be a threshold of significance.
And maybe it shouldn't be all of us making these comments.
And maybe it shouldn't be an anonymous letter.
What do you think?
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Repent! Signed, Anonymous
They tell the story of the rabbi who finds a slip of paper under his door, with one word on it: Jerk!.
So the rabbi gets up in shul on Shabbos morning and says, “I’ve received letters before where someone wrote a whole message and forgot to sign his name, but this week I had a first: Someone signed his name and forgot to write a letter!”
This never happened to me in my rabbinate, but I always get a kick out of the story - especially when I get the urge, as I still do from time to time, to drop someone in shul an anonymous note.
It’s hard to be a mochiach (rebuker), as I’ve explained somewhere on this blog before, so I’d really rather leave people Post-It notes with references to Shulchan Aruch, or fortune cookie-style slips of paper with pithy suggestions. The concept is tempting, with its promise of non-confrontational improvement… but, boy, would that be a bad idea. Even if I weren’t caught.
First, it’s a bad idea because leaving off your name only means that the recipient will focus on figuring out who wrote the note, not on the contents themselves. You know it’s true; imagine how you would react upon receiving such an annoying message. Who’s thinking that about me? And why doesn’t he have the guts to say it to my face? Maybe it’s Yochanan. Or Shmuel. Or Yehudis - yes, it has to be her, I see the dirty looks she gives me at kiddush. And then you get the revenge plans: I’ll show her! I’ll do… etc.
But second, it’s a bad idea because that’s not how mussar (rebuke) works. Most of us don’t learn from information; we learn from relationships, from people about whom we care and who care about us. Straight information is hard to internalize unless one is predisposed toward it, as in the case of a person who learns mussar regularly. As a general rule, we learn better from people who we know respect and care for us. Take the mochiach's face out of the picture and it won’t work at all. (For a great example, see Yisro’s approach to Moshe in this week’s parshah.)
And then third, my Rebbitzen (cue the angels with the trumpets! rays of light break over the horizon to herald the words of the great tzaddekes) points out the rebuker needs to face the rebukee face-to-face, so that he’ll be forced to think about the best way to present his message. If he has to do this directly, he might actually think twice and three times about whether to present the message at all.
So the anonymous notes don’t go out. Instead, I have to sit down and think through how to say, what to say and when to say. More work…
So the rabbi gets up in shul on Shabbos morning and says, “I’ve received letters before where someone wrote a whole message and forgot to sign his name, but this week I had a first: Someone signed his name and forgot to write a letter!”
This never happened to me in my rabbinate, but I always get a kick out of the story - especially when I get the urge, as I still do from time to time, to drop someone in shul an anonymous note.
It’s hard to be a mochiach (rebuker), as I’ve explained somewhere on this blog before, so I’d really rather leave people Post-It notes with references to Shulchan Aruch, or fortune cookie-style slips of paper with pithy suggestions. The concept is tempting, with its promise of non-confrontational improvement… but, boy, would that be a bad idea. Even if I weren’t caught.
First, it’s a bad idea because leaving off your name only means that the recipient will focus on figuring out who wrote the note, not on the contents themselves. You know it’s true; imagine how you would react upon receiving such an annoying message. Who’s thinking that about me? And why doesn’t he have the guts to say it to my face? Maybe it’s Yochanan. Or Shmuel. Or Yehudis - yes, it has to be her, I see the dirty looks she gives me at kiddush. And then you get the revenge plans: I’ll show her! I’ll do… etc.
But second, it’s a bad idea because that’s not how mussar (rebuke) works. Most of us don’t learn from information; we learn from relationships, from people about whom we care and who care about us. Straight information is hard to internalize unless one is predisposed toward it, as in the case of a person who learns mussar regularly. As a general rule, we learn better from people who we know respect and care for us. Take the mochiach's face out of the picture and it won’t work at all. (For a great example, see Yisro’s approach to Moshe in this week’s parshah.)
And then third, my Rebbitzen (cue the angels with the trumpets! rays of light break over the horizon to herald the words of the great tzaddekes) points out the rebuker needs to face the rebukee face-to-face, so that he’ll be forced to think about the best way to present his message. If he has to do this directly, he might actually think twice and three times about whether to present the message at all.
So the anonymous notes don’t go out. Instead, I have to sit down and think through how to say, what to say and when to say. More work…
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Rabbi Yosef Albo vs. Gotcha!
Elsewhere we’ve discussed the world of Gotcha!, in which everyone is a critic and every public figure a target.
Inherent to the Gotcha! game is the assumption that the target is ignorant/incompetent/ill-intentioned, so that her opponent may take a shoot-from-the-hip potshot on the basis of superficial reads and thirdhand accounts and assume that his gut reaction is correct, not to mention the acceptable equivalent of a fully formed, rationally explored, articulately expressed thesis.
From the attacks on Rabbi Lookstein at the start of 2009 for his participation in the National Day of Prayer, to the attacks at the close of 2009 on Rabbi Riskin for his comments on Christianity, the chattering critics spent little time analyzing, let alone researching, and instead launched their salvos immediately. [Note: I am defending neither of them, only pointing out the unwise haste of people who leap to criticize.]
This came to mind when I read the following disclaimer by Rabbi Yosef Albo, from his introduction to Part Two of his Sefer haIkkarim:
What should not escape the attention of this book’s reader is that the text includes many statements of hypothetical ideas rather than the truth itself. In other sections, the opposite idea may appear as an expression of the actual truth.
Alternatively, in one place an idea may be expressed with one meaning and in another place with a different meaning, as the Rambam did in many places in the Moreh haNevuchim…
Therefore, it would be appropriate for one who would examine a chapter from any author’s work not to leap to respond before he knows the styles employed in that work, and until he has surveyed the related material that appears in other parts of that work.
Sometimes a text will omit an introduction in one spot because it is independently understood or clarified elsewhere, or because the author wishes to conceal it, and the reader will think that this is an error of the author and will rush to respond and to think him a fool…
Therefore, one who examines a text should not leap to reply based upon his initial reaction, but he should think in his heart that the author is not an intellectual lightweight who fails to grasp the depths perceived by the reader and the thoughts the reader developed at his first read. It would be more appropriate to suspect one’s own wisdom and understanding, and to say that it is not possible for the author to err in an obvious matter. The reader should attribute the error to his own analysis, and extend the depth of his analysis until the author’s true intent becomes clear. Because of the great breadth of his analysis of deep matters, the author will sometimes give short shrift to clarification, and so analysis will be difficult for the reader.
I particularly like his point, “He should think in his heart that the author is not an intellectual lightweight who fails to grasp the depths perceived by the reader and the thoughts the reader developed at his first read. It would be more appropriate to suspect one’s own wisdom and understanding, and to say that it is not possible for the author to err in an obvious matter. ישיב אל לבו כי המחבר ההוא לא היה מקלי הדעת שלא השיג בעומק עיונו מה שיעלה על לב המעיין בתחלת הדעת, ויותר ראוי לכל אדם לחשוד שכלו והבנתו ולומר כי אי אפשר שיטעה המחבר ההוא בדבר נגלה הטעות.”
A little credit, a little care, a little benefit of the doubt and presumption of competence, would go a long way toward defusing pointless and baseless Gotcha!ism.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
The Idiot Brigade Rides Again
I know I’m going to get flamed for this, but I have to do it. I’ll just enable comment moderation.
First, a disclaimer: I would eat Streits Matzah.
In the past week I’ve lost three friends who were all wonderful people, each unique but each a solid, productive person who brought good to the world and smiles to other people’s faces. Alex, you were the sweetest of the sweet. Howard, you were a mentsch’s mentsch, and always in a private, humble way. Joe, you combined love of learning and love of community so beautifully.
So I’ve been thinking a lot about what people bring to the world around them.
And every time I read the incredibly stupid and hurtful allegations lodged against the Vaad of Queens for their stance on Streits – just look at some of the comments to my post on the Ugly Side of Kashrus Recommendations - it irritates me no end. Why did good people have to die, leaving behind these guys?
It doesn’t take skill, or dedication, or brains, to sit at a keyboard and write stupid things about volunteers who are trying to provide solid guidance for their communities. It just takes an idiot brigade of people who cannot contribute anything positive to the world, who cannot muster the force of will to try to build, and so, instead, resort to whiling away their hours tearing down others.
One poster hides behind an Anonymous tag, and even anonymizes his ISP, and Googles “Queens Vaad” on Blogsearch. Then, on each site he finds - including mine - he posts conspiracy theories as well as lists of other sites where he has posted his conspiracy theories.
His favorite plot is this: The rabbi who certifies Streits signed a letter a few months ago – along with ten other rabbis, mind you – criticizing the conversion process used by a certain rabbi in Brooklyn. That Brooklyn rabbi’s son is rabbi of an OU shul. The head of the Vaad of Queens’s kashrus division does some work for the OU’s kashrus division. Also, that Brooklyn rabbi’s son is a member of the 30-or-so-person executive committee of the RCA, and the RCA has cooperative projects with the OU. That’s why the Vaad of Queens decided not to recommend Streits.
I’m not kidding; look at the comments I linked before. I’m guessing he came up with this brilliant insight in the following conversation, probably during Musaf over Yom Tov:
Abe: Hey, did you hear this thing about Streits, the Vaad of Queens and the Five Towns Vaad saying Streits ain’t kosher enough for them?
Boruch: Yeah, ain’t it terrible? Rabbi Soloveitchik, he’s a giant! He’s the head of YU! How could they do that to him?
Chaim: No, that was Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik. He passed away years ago. This is his son.
Abe: You’re both idiots – it’s not his son, it’s his grandson. His son was Aaron, he’s the one who’s a historian, and his grandson is Moshe. Wonderful guy. And I was thinking. Why would they do that?
Boruch: I dunno. Maybe they found pork in the factory?
Abe: Are you kidding me? Come on. It’s gotta be a scam. They gotta have something to gain.
Chaim: Like what?
Abe: Money. Like, if Streits hires them to certify the matzah, instead of this Rabbi Soloveitchik.
Chaim: Can’t be. I looked up all the tax forms some guy keeps posting on the blogs. The rabbis on these Vaad things are volunteers. They don’t even do any supervision. No money in it for them.
Abe: Okay, fine. But then it’s something else. Maybe they hate the Soloveitchik family. I know – it’s Slifkin, Round II! They’re loony right-wingers, they remember the way Rabbi Soloveitchik protected Slifkin, and they want to make the Soloveitchik family look bad.
Boruch: Can’t be. Rabbi Soloveitchik refused to meet with Slifkin, or even read the guy’s books. Besides, most of these Vaad people are either YU grads or YU friendly.
Chaim: Wait, I got it!
(Chaim is shushed by people around him who cannot hear their own Musaf conversations.)
Chaim (in a lower voice): Okay, I got it. Listen: The Vaad has a deal going with Rubashkin. Rubashkin bought shares in Manischewitz. The Vaad shuts down Streits, that leaves Manischewitz with the monopoly – and Rubashkin gets rich.
Boruch: Ooooh, wait, even better: The Lubabs take the money they make, and pump it into Moshiach billboards with the Rebbe’s picture all across Thailand. What do you think?
Abe: I think you’re crazy, is what I think. Forget Rubashkin; they’re so 2008. I got it: Rabbi Soloveitchik, along with ten other rabbis, once signed a letter condemning someone’s conversions…
Disagree with their decision, fine – although I’d suggest actually finding out what happened first.
Disagree with their method of explaining themselves, sure.
Disagree with their timing, too.
But to vilify people because you don’t agree with them, concocting Rube Goldberg scandals with neither evidence nor logic, is just sickening. It makes you guilty of everything you accuse them of trying to do.
Personally, I know very little about the whole episode. I have only love and admiration for Rav Aharon Soloveitchik זצ"ל, and I have heard wonderful things about his son, Rav Moshe Soloveitchik. Further, on the basis of the rulings of rabbis with more knowledge than I possess, I believe that Streits is fine to use.
But I don’t think the Vaad of Queens was out to get anyone. And I do think that people who waste the world’s time, and create mountains of ill will, all for the sake of spreading machlokes (strife), will burn in a special place in Gehennom.
Flame on; comment moderation enabled.
First, a disclaimer: I would eat Streits Matzah.
In the past week I’ve lost three friends who were all wonderful people, each unique but each a solid, productive person who brought good to the world and smiles to other people’s faces. Alex, you were the sweetest of the sweet. Howard, you were a mentsch’s mentsch, and always in a private, humble way. Joe, you combined love of learning and love of community so beautifully.
So I’ve been thinking a lot about what people bring to the world around them.
And every time I read the incredibly stupid and hurtful allegations lodged against the Vaad of Queens for their stance on Streits – just look at some of the comments to my post on the Ugly Side of Kashrus Recommendations - it irritates me no end. Why did good people have to die, leaving behind these guys?
It doesn’t take skill, or dedication, or brains, to sit at a keyboard and write stupid things about volunteers who are trying to provide solid guidance for their communities. It just takes an idiot brigade of people who cannot contribute anything positive to the world, who cannot muster the force of will to try to build, and so, instead, resort to whiling away their hours tearing down others.
One poster hides behind an Anonymous tag, and even anonymizes his ISP, and Googles “Queens Vaad” on Blogsearch. Then, on each site he finds - including mine - he posts conspiracy theories as well as lists of other sites where he has posted his conspiracy theories.
His favorite plot is this: The rabbi who certifies Streits signed a letter a few months ago – along with ten other rabbis, mind you – criticizing the conversion process used by a certain rabbi in Brooklyn. That Brooklyn rabbi’s son is rabbi of an OU shul. The head of the Vaad of Queens’s kashrus division does some work for the OU’s kashrus division. Also, that Brooklyn rabbi’s son is a member of the 30-or-so-person executive committee of the RCA, and the RCA has cooperative projects with the OU. That’s why the Vaad of Queens decided not to recommend Streits.
I’m not kidding; look at the comments I linked before. I’m guessing he came up with this brilliant insight in the following conversation, probably during Musaf over Yom Tov:
Abe: Hey, did you hear this thing about Streits, the Vaad of Queens and the Five Towns Vaad saying Streits ain’t kosher enough for them?
Boruch: Yeah, ain’t it terrible? Rabbi Soloveitchik, he’s a giant! He’s the head of YU! How could they do that to him?
Chaim: No, that was Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik. He passed away years ago. This is his son.
Abe: You’re both idiots – it’s not his son, it’s his grandson. His son was Aaron, he’s the one who’s a historian, and his grandson is Moshe. Wonderful guy. And I was thinking. Why would they do that?
Boruch: I dunno. Maybe they found pork in the factory?
Abe: Are you kidding me? Come on. It’s gotta be a scam. They gotta have something to gain.
Chaim: Like what?
Abe: Money. Like, if Streits hires them to certify the matzah, instead of this Rabbi Soloveitchik.
Chaim: Can’t be. I looked up all the tax forms some guy keeps posting on the blogs. The rabbis on these Vaad things are volunteers. They don’t even do any supervision. No money in it for them.
Abe: Okay, fine. But then it’s something else. Maybe they hate the Soloveitchik family. I know – it’s Slifkin, Round II! They’re loony right-wingers, they remember the way Rabbi Soloveitchik protected Slifkin, and they want to make the Soloveitchik family look bad.
Boruch: Can’t be. Rabbi Soloveitchik refused to meet with Slifkin, or even read the guy’s books. Besides, most of these Vaad people are either YU grads or YU friendly.
Chaim: Wait, I got it!
(Chaim is shushed by people around him who cannot hear their own Musaf conversations.)
Chaim (in a lower voice): Okay, I got it. Listen: The Vaad has a deal going with Rubashkin. Rubashkin bought shares in Manischewitz. The Vaad shuts down Streits, that leaves Manischewitz with the monopoly – and Rubashkin gets rich.
Boruch: Ooooh, wait, even better: The Lubabs take the money they make, and pump it into Moshiach billboards with the Rebbe’s picture all across Thailand. What do you think?
Abe: I think you’re crazy, is what I think. Forget Rubashkin; they’re so 2008. I got it: Rabbi Soloveitchik, along with ten other rabbis, once signed a letter condemning someone’s conversions…
Disagree with their decision, fine – although I’d suggest actually finding out what happened first.
Disagree with their method of explaining themselves, sure.
Disagree with their timing, too.
But to vilify people because you don’t agree with them, concocting Rube Goldberg scandals with neither evidence nor logic, is just sickening. It makes you guilty of everything you accuse them of trying to do.
Personally, I know very little about the whole episode. I have only love and admiration for Rav Aharon Soloveitchik זצ"ל, and I have heard wonderful things about his son, Rav Moshe Soloveitchik. Further, on the basis of the rulings of rabbis with more knowledge than I possess, I believe that Streits is fine to use.
But I don’t think the Vaad of Queens was out to get anyone. And I do think that people who waste the world’s time, and create mountains of ill will, all for the sake of spreading machlokes (strife), will burn in a special place in Gehennom.
Flame on; comment moderation enabled.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
The Writers’ Café: Creative Voices from the Frum Community
During Pesach I received a copy of a new magazine called “The Writers’ Café: Creative Voices from the Frum Community.”
An introductory “Letter from the Editor” describes the goal of the publication: “Our aim is to bring you the best in creative, imaginative writing for and about the frum world. In doing so, we hope to promote the growth of such writing, benefiting readers and writers alike.”
My first reaction, even before opening it: "Cool." Like many rabbis, I have a side career as a frustrated fiction writer.
Having read it, my second reaction is that this magazine is definitely “for and about the frum world.” A serial story ends with “To be continued, b’li neder.” Pieces focus on observant life, both day-to-day (clothes shopping, baseball, sibling relationships) and spiritual (davening, weddings, rebbe-talmid relationships, Rosh haShanah, tefillin).
A third reaction: Leaving aside the quality of the production values and writing (and the definition of “frum”), I think the idea of encouraging Torah-observant Jews to look at their own community and describe their lives is positive.
And a fourth reaction: I think this could lead to an answer to a question I’ve been pondering: Is the observant community capable of addressing criticism from within?
The question has come up in recent years over issues ranging from abuse in yeshivot to unethical businessmen to out-of-control bansmanship to relationships between our community and politicians of dubious morality. Are we able to criticize ourselves, and listen to that criticism?
One thing is certain: Observant Jews tend to dislike secular critical portrayals of our community. We react to such a perspective much as we would react to a mirror that highlighted our pimples. Reactions like, “She doesn’t really understand us,” “He’s got a vendetta,” and “That’s just lashon hara,” are the equivalent of the acned teenager’s, “Must be the lighting."
Our excuses for the way we appear to others come easily; it’s simpler to condemn the messenger than to consider the message. Think of the recent reactions to Shalom Auslander and Noah Feldman. I’m not agreeing with either of them, just highlighting our knee-jerk response to their criticism.
In fact, I wonder if this isn't one motivation for literary contributors to “The Writers’ Café.” Uncomfortable with the way others describe us, we will describe ourselves.
But what will happen when the “frum” writer in the “frum” magazine offers reasonable criticism? Serious writing encourages an objective point of view, which should lead to some highlighting of faults...
Hypothetical examples:
-In one story, a character says regarding Judaism, “I believe in it. I think it’s the best way to keep people…good.” What if another speaker in the story points out that not all ritually observant Jews are good in all of their behaviors, and that many the lives of many non-Jews fit the Jewish defintion of good?
-In another story, a rebbe brings great compassion to bear in dealing with a rude student. But what of a story depicting the rebbes who, whether due to defects in character or training, don’t employ proper methods in addressing rudeness?
Would The Writers’ Café be ostracized as another outsider publication with a bone to pick? Or might readers allow themselves enlightenment if the criticism were to come from within?
[Side note: The local distributor wished to have copies out in our shul lobby for people to take, but I oppose having non-dvar torah literature out in the lobby. I recognize the need for dvar torah sheets for people who become distracted, or need distraction, during davening, but I can’t see offering additional material, above and beyond the myriad dvar torah papers. This aside from the question of reading fiction on Shabbos, which I do not wish to touch no matter how long the pole…]
An introductory “Letter from the Editor” describes the goal of the publication: “Our aim is to bring you the best in creative, imaginative writing for and about the frum world. In doing so, we hope to promote the growth of such writing, benefiting readers and writers alike.”
My first reaction, even before opening it: "Cool." Like many rabbis, I have a side career as a frustrated fiction writer.
Having read it, my second reaction is that this magazine is definitely “for and about the frum world.” A serial story ends with “To be continued, b’li neder.” Pieces focus on observant life, both day-to-day (clothes shopping, baseball, sibling relationships) and spiritual (davening, weddings, rebbe-talmid relationships, Rosh haShanah, tefillin).
A third reaction: Leaving aside the quality of the production values and writing (and the definition of “frum”), I think the idea of encouraging Torah-observant Jews to look at their own community and describe their lives is positive.
And a fourth reaction: I think this could lead to an answer to a question I’ve been pondering: Is the observant community capable of addressing criticism from within?
The question has come up in recent years over issues ranging from abuse in yeshivot to unethical businessmen to out-of-control bansmanship to relationships between our community and politicians of dubious morality. Are we able to criticize ourselves, and listen to that criticism?
One thing is certain: Observant Jews tend to dislike secular critical portrayals of our community. We react to such a perspective much as we would react to a mirror that highlighted our pimples. Reactions like, “She doesn’t really understand us,” “He’s got a vendetta,” and “That’s just lashon hara,” are the equivalent of the acned teenager’s, “Must be the lighting."
Our excuses for the way we appear to others come easily; it’s simpler to condemn the messenger than to consider the message. Think of the recent reactions to Shalom Auslander and Noah Feldman. I’m not agreeing with either of them, just highlighting our knee-jerk response to their criticism.
In fact, I wonder if this isn't one motivation for literary contributors to “The Writers’ Café.” Uncomfortable with the way others describe us, we will describe ourselves.
But what will happen when the “frum” writer in the “frum” magazine offers reasonable criticism? Serious writing encourages an objective point of view, which should lead to some highlighting of faults...
Hypothetical examples:
-In one story, a character says regarding Judaism, “I believe in it. I think it’s the best way to keep people…good.” What if another speaker in the story points out that not all ritually observant Jews are good in all of their behaviors, and that many the lives of many non-Jews fit the Jewish defintion of good?
-In another story, a rebbe brings great compassion to bear in dealing with a rude student. But what of a story depicting the rebbes who, whether due to defects in character or training, don’t employ proper methods in addressing rudeness?
Would The Writers’ Café be ostracized as another outsider publication with a bone to pick? Or might readers allow themselves enlightenment if the criticism were to come from within?
[Side note: The local distributor wished to have copies out in our shul lobby for people to take, but I oppose having non-dvar torah literature out in the lobby. I recognize the need for dvar torah sheets for people who become distracted, or need distraction, during davening, but I can’t see offering additional material, above and beyond the myriad dvar torah papers. This aside from the question of reading fiction on Shabbos, which I do not wish to touch no matter how long the pole…]
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