As you have doubtless seen by now, Rabbi Yehuda Bloch, a spokesman for the Nahal Hareidi program in the IDF, penned a piece last month, "12 Good Reasons Why Secular Israelis Reject Haredim". His first three points:
1. We've chosen, for understandable educational reasons, to withdraw and
live in exclusively Haredi cities and neighborhoods, avoiding as much
as possible any social contact with the secular.
This is legitimate and understandable, but as a result they don't really
know us, amd so they naturally view us as bizarre, in our manner of
dress, our behavior, and our language. This creates aversion and
alienation. Why, then, we are angry at them for treating us this way?
2. We chose, for educational reasons—although some of us really believe
it—to teach our children that all secular Israelis are sinners, vacuous,
with no values, and corrupt.
This could possibly be a legitimate view, but, then, why are we shocked
when the secular, in return, teach their own children that the Haredim
are all primitive, with outdated and despicable values?
3. We have chosen, for the sake of the preservation of Torah in Israel,
to prevent our sons from participating in carrying the heavy burden of
security, and instead tasked them with learning Torah.
Of course we could not give that up, but why are we outraged and
offended when the secular, who do not recognize nor understand this
need—or rather most of them are familiar with the issue, but argue that
there should be quotas—see us as immoral, and some despise us as a
result?
Naturally, his article - the rest of which is available here - was a big hit among critics of Hareidi society. However, I wonder: What would appear in an article entitled, "12 Good Reasons Why Haredim Reject Modern Orthodoxy"?
I have a few ideas, but I'm more interested in yours: What do you think would belong on the list?
Showing posts with label Jewish community: Denominations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jewish community: Denominations. Show all posts
Monday, March 11, 2013
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Could Rabbis Kill Judaism?
A couple of weeks ago I read a Slate article on a new book, The Chosen Few. According to the review, the book's authors argue that after the Roman destruction of the Second Temple, the Rabbis/Pharisees came to dominate the Jewish scene, and their emphasis on education set an economic bar that few Jewish families could match. As a result, many Jewish families simply opted out, and so the Jewish population underwent a major reduction over the ensuing several centuries.
It's an interesting thesis, although I'd need to read the book to evaluate it; I certainly have questions about it. But my point tonight isn't this particular case; rather, it's the idea that a rabbi, or a group of rabbis, could make a demand which would cause people to leave Judaism en masse.
Jewish history seems to indicate otherwise; long before the modern "create your own Judaism" age, groups which were uncomfortable with a particular definition of the religion simply went their own way, taking the name of Judaism with them: Chasidim, Sabbateans, Kabbalists, Rationalists, Karaites, and so on... No one has ever successfully trademarked the word Judaism.
Look at the push for education today. For the past 10-15 years, those in the Orthodox would who have felt that the institutional insistence upon Jewish day school education is too much have not filed for visas to flee Orthodoxy, much less Judaism. Rather, they have created their own models - charter schools, half-day schools modeled on the Talmud Torah system, on-line schools, and so on. [I expect that this will only grow with the toll from Hurricane Sandy; I can't imagine how Long Island schools will respond to the many, many families who had once been full-pay, who will not be able to afford it for next year.]
The same is true in kashrut, where rabbis and kashrut organizations insist on a standard [bug-checking, quinoa, cholov yisroel, pas yisroel] which many Orthodox families resent, and even oppose outright. None of them are ceding ownership of Judaism, though; far from it, they accuse the rabbis of inventing a new religion.
Ditto for the many other elements which are often characterized as a "shift to the right" - black hats, no mixed dancing, and so on. Are any of the condemned practitioners (much less a majority) saying, "You can keep your Judaism, I'm leaving?"
And as I said before - this obstinacy is not new. We have many historical examples of Jews defining Judaism as they chose, and ignoring those who defined it differently.
So I have a hard time believing that rabbis have been able to define Judaism against the opposition of the population - certainly if that opposing population was as large a percentage as the authors of The Chosen Few contend.
What do you think?
It's an interesting thesis, although I'd need to read the book to evaluate it; I certainly have questions about it. But my point tonight isn't this particular case; rather, it's the idea that a rabbi, or a group of rabbis, could make a demand which would cause people to leave Judaism en masse.
Jewish history seems to indicate otherwise; long before the modern "create your own Judaism" age, groups which were uncomfortable with a particular definition of the religion simply went their own way, taking the name of Judaism with them: Chasidim, Sabbateans, Kabbalists, Rationalists, Karaites, and so on... No one has ever successfully trademarked the word Judaism.
Look at the push for education today. For the past 10-15 years, those in the Orthodox would who have felt that the institutional insistence upon Jewish day school education is too much have not filed for visas to flee Orthodoxy, much less Judaism. Rather, they have created their own models - charter schools, half-day schools modeled on the Talmud Torah system, on-line schools, and so on. [I expect that this will only grow with the toll from Hurricane Sandy; I can't imagine how Long Island schools will respond to the many, many families who had once been full-pay, who will not be able to afford it for next year.]
The same is true in kashrut, where rabbis and kashrut organizations insist on a standard [bug-checking, quinoa, cholov yisroel, pas yisroel] which many Orthodox families resent, and even oppose outright. None of them are ceding ownership of Judaism, though; far from it, they accuse the rabbis of inventing a new religion.
Ditto for the many other elements which are often characterized as a "shift to the right" - black hats, no mixed dancing, and so on. Are any of the condemned practitioners (much less a majority) saying, "You can keep your Judaism, I'm leaving?"
And as I said before - this obstinacy is not new. We have many historical examples of Jews defining Judaism as they chose, and ignoring those who defined it differently.
So I have a hard time believing that rabbis have been able to define Judaism against the opposition of the population - certainly if that opposing population was as large a percentage as the authors of The Chosen Few contend.
What do you think?
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Abraham Joshua Heschel, Shaul Lieberman and Shlomo Carlebach
Several weeks ago, our Beit Midrash held a Shabbaton with the theme, "21st Century Shabbat: Ancient Roots, Modern Meaning". Afterward, someone approached me with a good question. While she praised the excellent presentations, she wondered why no one had cited Abraham Joshua Heschel.
She was right to wonder. Certainly, Heschel's The Sabbath was written to address the modern meaning of Shabbat. His ideas are deep, his writing is grand. So why wasn't he cited? I told her, "I think many don't know what to make of him."
I certainly did not mean this as an insult to Heschel; how could I judge anyone, let alone someone who wrote so meaningfully and about whom I know so little? I was simply describing a reality: Abraham Joshua Heschel's work generally does not appear in Orthodox yeshivot. Separate from his personal religious practices, he taught at Hebrew Union College and the Jewish Theological Seminary, the chief ordaining bodies of the Reform and Conservative movements, and to many this means that holding him up as an authority would promote movements which are at odds with Orthodoxy on fundamental issuesof belief and law.
One could no more expect Orthodoxy to endorse JTS and HUC than one could expect Lakewood to endorse someone like me, who represents university education and Zionism, or expect me to endorse Neturei Karta, which represents virulent anti-Zionism.
But the reality is not as simple as "Teach at JTS/HUC and the yeshivot will exclude you."
Consider the case of Shaul Lieberman – erudite talmid chacham, writer of important works on Tosefta and Yerushalmi, among others. And he taught at JTS, and he authored the controversial "Lieberman clause" addendum to the ketubah. In some Israeli yeshivot he is studied, and some sefarim quote his work. With Shaul Lieberman, teaching at a non-Orthodox rabbinical seminary was not enough to put him beyond everyone's pale.
And then consider the case of Shlomo Carlebach – a reputed talmid chacham, although best known for his music, which is sung in Orthodox shuls and yeshivos. But he was also the founder of the "House of Love and Prayer" in San Francisco, and his well-established reputation includes behavior with women which is certainly prohibited by halachah and which some might include in the category of yeihareg v'al yaavor.
So why is much of the Orthodox establishment comfortable having Carlebach in, ambiguous on Lieberman, and negative on Heschel?
Is one "in" because he publishes classic Torah scholarship (Lieberman), or because he is endorsed by Orthodox leaders (Carlebach – and Lieberman, according to some stories), or because his sins are not viewed as undermining general Orthodoxy (Carlebach)?
Is one "out" because he supports non-Orthodox institutions (Lieberman, Heschel), because his published canon focusses on spirituality rather than traditional text (Heschel) or because he has a falling-out with an Orthodox leader (Lieberman)?
Is the decision based on the actions of the individual, or the individual's potential threat to the institution that is Orthodoxy?
The practices of exclusion are not that interesting to me, but the question of how people choose definitely interests me.
She was right to wonder. Certainly, Heschel's The Sabbath was written to address the modern meaning of Shabbat. His ideas are deep, his writing is grand. So why wasn't he cited? I told her, "I think many don't know what to make of him."
I certainly did not mean this as an insult to Heschel; how could I judge anyone, let alone someone who wrote so meaningfully and about whom I know so little? I was simply describing a reality: Abraham Joshua Heschel's work generally does not appear in Orthodox yeshivot. Separate from his personal religious practices, he taught at Hebrew Union College and the Jewish Theological Seminary, the chief ordaining bodies of the Reform and Conservative movements, and to many this means that holding him up as an authority would promote movements which are at odds with Orthodoxy on fundamental issuesof belief and law.
One could no more expect Orthodoxy to endorse JTS and HUC than one could expect Lakewood to endorse someone like me, who represents university education and Zionism, or expect me to endorse Neturei Karta, which represents virulent anti-Zionism.
But the reality is not as simple as "Teach at JTS/HUC and the yeshivot will exclude you."
Consider the case of Shaul Lieberman – erudite talmid chacham, writer of important works on Tosefta and Yerushalmi, among others. And he taught at JTS, and he authored the controversial "Lieberman clause" addendum to the ketubah. In some Israeli yeshivot he is studied, and some sefarim quote his work. With Shaul Lieberman, teaching at a non-Orthodox rabbinical seminary was not enough to put him beyond everyone's pale.
And then consider the case of Shlomo Carlebach – a reputed talmid chacham, although best known for his music, which is sung in Orthodox shuls and yeshivos. But he was also the founder of the "House of Love and Prayer" in San Francisco, and his well-established reputation includes behavior with women which is certainly prohibited by halachah and which some might include in the category of yeihareg v'al yaavor.
So why is much of the Orthodox establishment comfortable having Carlebach in, ambiguous on Lieberman, and negative on Heschel?
Is one "in" because he publishes classic Torah scholarship (Lieberman), or because he is endorsed by Orthodox leaders (Carlebach – and Lieberman, according to some stories), or because his sins are not viewed as undermining general Orthodoxy (Carlebach)?
Is one "out" because he supports non-Orthodox institutions (Lieberman, Heschel), because his published canon focusses on spirituality rather than traditional text (Heschel) or because he has a falling-out with an Orthodox leader (Lieberman)?
Is the decision based on the actions of the individual, or the individual's potential threat to the institution that is Orthodoxy?
The practices of exclusion are not that interesting to me, but the question of how people choose definitely interests me.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Interdenominational Smackdown
[This week's Haveil Havalim is here]
From time to time, during my years in the rabbinate, I was solicited to participate in interdenominational debates. My policy was to refuse, because the possible benefits did not outweigh the likely cost.
The possible benefits:
1. An evening of entertainment;
2. A better understanding of each other;
3. A chance for the audience to hear all sides and decide for themselves.
Don’t get me wrong, these all seem like good reasons for rabbis to sit at a table and tear each others' throats out for an hour before a live studio audience.
But the likely cost is high: Either the integrity of Orthodoxy or the unity of the Jewish community would pay the price. I would either sell out Orthodoxy or bash everyone else.
Let me unpack that a bit.
Stipulation:
The major self-segregated streams of Judaism – Conservative, Orthodox, Reconstructionist, Reform – are all adamantly different from each other.
Example:
Ask a mainstream Orthodox rabbi why we observe Shabbos, and he’ll tell you it’s because G-d told us to do so.
Ask a mainstream Conservative rabbi and you’ll receive the same answer, but with the caveat that various halachot may be overridden by modern needs and views.
Ask a mainstream Reform rabbi and you’ll be told we observe Shabbos because we gain by doing so (cf the Shabbat sermon at the 2007 Reform Biennial).
(Reconstructionism is an entirely different ballgame; I find that one cannot easily typecast the “mainstream” of Reconstructionism, so I’ll leave that one alone.)
Shabbat is at the Torah’s foundation, tying in to Judaism’s most basic beliefs about Gd and the universe, mentioned several times biblically and so on. Shabbat observance is cited in the Talmud (Chullin 5a) as the very definition of observance, along with rejection of idolatry. And each of these major approaches to Judaism and Torah charts its own path on this most basic mitzvah.
Given the wealth of diversity regarding such a basic Jewish issue, how much greater is the diversity on less-fundamental issues? So there is little room for panel participants to agree with each other; even though we do have much in common, the discussion is generally about our disagreements.
So we enter our debate, and one of two things happens:
1. I am respectful of the others’ views, leading onlookers to assume I think all opinions are equally viable, or
2. I go Rambo and tear down opposing views, in establishing my own.
The cost of the former is the integrity of Orthodoxy; the cost of the latter is Jewish unity.
Of course, it is also possible that the panelists agree to disagree - but in the heat of the moment, in my experience, that's unlikely. Debates just don't encourage that kind of civility.
So audiences will need to find their entertainment elsewhere, and we’ll come to understand each other by hearing individual presentations. The debate format just isn't for me.
From time to time, during my years in the rabbinate, I was solicited to participate in interdenominational debates. My policy was to refuse, because the possible benefits did not outweigh the likely cost.
The possible benefits:
1. An evening of entertainment;
2. A better understanding of each other;
3. A chance for the audience to hear all sides and decide for themselves.
Don’t get me wrong, these all seem like good reasons for rabbis to sit at a table and tear each others' throats out for an hour before a live studio audience.
But the likely cost is high: Either the integrity of Orthodoxy or the unity of the Jewish community would pay the price. I would either sell out Orthodoxy or bash everyone else.
Let me unpack that a bit.
Stipulation:
The major self-segregated streams of Judaism – Conservative, Orthodox, Reconstructionist, Reform – are all adamantly different from each other.
Example:
Ask a mainstream Orthodox rabbi why we observe Shabbos, and he’ll tell you it’s because G-d told us to do so.
Ask a mainstream Conservative rabbi and you’ll receive the same answer, but with the caveat that various halachot may be overridden by modern needs and views.
Ask a mainstream Reform rabbi and you’ll be told we observe Shabbos because we gain by doing so (cf the Shabbat sermon at the 2007 Reform Biennial).
(Reconstructionism is an entirely different ballgame; I find that one cannot easily typecast the “mainstream” of Reconstructionism, so I’ll leave that one alone.)
Shabbat is at the Torah’s foundation, tying in to Judaism’s most basic beliefs about Gd and the universe, mentioned several times biblically and so on. Shabbat observance is cited in the Talmud (Chullin 5a) as the very definition of observance, along with rejection of idolatry. And each of these major approaches to Judaism and Torah charts its own path on this most basic mitzvah.
Given the wealth of diversity regarding such a basic Jewish issue, how much greater is the diversity on less-fundamental issues? So there is little room for panel participants to agree with each other; even though we do have much in common, the discussion is generally about our disagreements.
So we enter our debate, and one of two things happens:
1. I am respectful of the others’ views, leading onlookers to assume I think all opinions are equally viable, or
2. I go Rambo and tear down opposing views, in establishing my own.
The cost of the former is the integrity of Orthodoxy; the cost of the latter is Jewish unity.
Of course, it is also possible that the panelists agree to disagree - but in the heat of the moment, in my experience, that's unlikely. Debates just don't encourage that kind of civility.
So audiences will need to find their entertainment elsewhere, and we’ll come to understand each other by hearing individual presentations. The debate format just isn't for me.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
I prefer Orthodox Quality to Orthodox Quantity (Derashah Shabbat Chol haMoed Pesach 5769)
The following is excerpted from "An Orthodox Ascendancy?" from March 24’s Jewish Week, by sociologist Steven Bayme:
On a family trip in the late 1950s to Hartford, Conn., a relative observed that nine new synagogues had opened in the city within the past year. Most were Conservative, some were Reform. When I queried whether any Orthodox synagogues had opened recently, my relative politely replied that Orthodoxy was entirely a matter of nostalgia and would soon go the way of the American buffalo.
In fact, the buffalo has made a remarkable comeback. At least equally remarkable has been the resurgence of Orthodox Judaism… Demographically, Orthodox Jews constitute at most 10 percent of the total U.S. Jewish population. Yet 23 percent of Jewish children are Orthodox, according to a United Jewish Communities report. Among affiliated Jewish homes 197,000 children are Reform, 153,000 are Conservative, and 228,000 are Orthodox. The smallest of the movements (Orthodox) contains 38 percent of the children of affiliated Jewish homes.
I can’t stand articles like that.
For one thing, this sort of coverage tends to lead Orthodox readers to a self-congratulatory triumphalism, an ugly brand of “We’re number one” which really means, when we look at the complete statistical picture, “We’re dying the slowest!”
There is no value to claiming ownership of the estate when the manor is burning; if Orthodoxy is to reign supreme because Conservative and Reform have lost more of their children to secularism than we have lost, then that is cause for klopping al cheit, not for raising fists in celebration.
But beyond disliking this triumphalist reaction, I fear that the entire sociological construct of evaluating success based upon numbers is misguided. It was wrong in the 1950s to think that we were weak because we were few, and it is equally wrong today to think that we are healthy because we are many.
I concede that we have always gauged Jewish health with numbers:
• The Torah is filled with censuses, countings and recountings of the tribes of Israel.
• HaShem’s earliest promises to our ancestors included, “ואעשך לגוי גדול,” “I will make you a large nation,” and “וארבה את זרעך כחול הים,” I will make your children as many as the sand at the sea, and the stars in the heavens.”
• In the Haggadah we trumpet the fact that we descended to Egypt במתי מעט, as a tiny tribe, and quickly multiplied under HaShem’s protection.
But numbers are neither the truth of a nation’s character, nor the certain foreteller of a nation’s future. Numbers are a statistic, a symptom to be deciphered one way or another depending upon the philosophical bent of the reader.
Just look at the great many foes who enslaved us and fought against us, and have disappeared; Egyptians and Babylonians, Greeks and Assyrians and Persians and Medes and Romans all had numbers on their side, and all have long since disappeared. Numbers did not help them.
And the same is true for the Jews, in the Torah; Gd explicitly declares that numbers do not influence victory:
• The prophet Gidon leads the Jews to war, and is told, counter-intuitively, to reduce his army, because not all of the soldiers are of good character.
• After the Golden Calf, HaShem tells Moshe He is ready to eradicate the entire nation, and begin again with Moshe alone.
How many are counted doesn’t matter nearly as much as who is counted, and what they are doing when they are counted.
Certainly, as we have noted, HaShem did set forth promises to Avraham and Sarah, pledging that their descendants would become many – but the point of the promise was that their descendants would be like them, would be future Avrahams and Sarahs. Being as numerous as the stars in the heavens and the sand at the sea is meaningful if we seek Gd as they did, if we serve as they did, if we spread Torah as they did.
Mishlei says, "ברב עם הדרת מלך, There is greater glory for Gd when a greater number of people serve Him" – but that’s because they are actually serving Him. The magic is not in the numbers, it’s in the service.
Thus, in the Beis haMikdash, the rituals were designed to include the maximum number of kohanim, because having large numbers of Jews involved in serving Gd would create greater glory; the Talmud actually tells of a muscleman kohen who wanted to carry multiple parts of the offerings himself, and the rest of the kohanim prevented it in order to involve more people. With many people performing Gd’s will, that is a number to celebrate.
When 20,000 Jews gather in Madison Square Garden and six times that number around the world to complete Daf Yomi, that’s something to celebrate. When we break records in the number of Jews enrolled in Jewish schools, the number of Jews who keep kosher, the number of Jews who put up mezuzot on every doorpost in their homes – those are the numbers that matter, those are the numbers that are the hope for a Jewish future.
From time to time, I am asked, “How many families do you have in the shul?” But I much prefer when people ask, “How many mispalilim do you have on Shabbos morning – and how many people are in shul at 9 AM?” “How many families use the mikvah?” “How many people come to shiurim on Shabbos afternoon, or Tuesday night, or weekday mornings, or Monday noon?” “How many people volunteer their time to keep the shul, the mikvah, the chevra kadisha, the LVKC, the Federation, up and running?” Those are the key questions for a community, those are the signs of spiritual health.
Steven Bayme’s article focusses on whether Orthodox Jews will take a constructive leadership role in the greater Jewish world, and he concludes, “The critical question… will be whether 21st-century Orthodoxy will be modern, open-minded, inclusive, and well-educated in both secular and religious realms.”
But before we ask whether the Orthodox can lead, or play nicely with others, let us ask whether the Orthodox can even survive. Numbers are interesting, but the picture they present is as incomplete today as it was in the 1950’s. When we know that our רב עם is הדרת מלך, that our great numbers are committed to the Divine mission, then we will know that our survival is assured.
-
Notes:
1. There was a lot more I wanted to say on this, but it kept turning into a negative rant, which is bad form for a derashah. Also, it's for the third day of a three-day Yom Tov; time to keep it short and simple.
2. Gidon's troop reduction (Shoftim 7) was also to maximize the miracle, of course, but his method of reducing the troops is often understood as an attempt to weed out the inappropriate soldiers - see Rashi and Ralbag to Shoftim 7:5.
3. The principle of adding people to the service of Gd is found, among other places, in Pesachim 64b. The muscleman kohen is in Succah 52b.
On a family trip in the late 1950s to Hartford, Conn., a relative observed that nine new synagogues had opened in the city within the past year. Most were Conservative, some were Reform. When I queried whether any Orthodox synagogues had opened recently, my relative politely replied that Orthodoxy was entirely a matter of nostalgia and would soon go the way of the American buffalo.
In fact, the buffalo has made a remarkable comeback. At least equally remarkable has been the resurgence of Orthodox Judaism… Demographically, Orthodox Jews constitute at most 10 percent of the total U.S. Jewish population. Yet 23 percent of Jewish children are Orthodox, according to a United Jewish Communities report. Among affiliated Jewish homes 197,000 children are Reform, 153,000 are Conservative, and 228,000 are Orthodox. The smallest of the movements (Orthodox) contains 38 percent of the children of affiliated Jewish homes.
I can’t stand articles like that.
For one thing, this sort of coverage tends to lead Orthodox readers to a self-congratulatory triumphalism, an ugly brand of “We’re number one” which really means, when we look at the complete statistical picture, “We’re dying the slowest!”
There is no value to claiming ownership of the estate when the manor is burning; if Orthodoxy is to reign supreme because Conservative and Reform have lost more of their children to secularism than we have lost, then that is cause for klopping al cheit, not for raising fists in celebration.
But beyond disliking this triumphalist reaction, I fear that the entire sociological construct of evaluating success based upon numbers is misguided. It was wrong in the 1950s to think that we were weak because we were few, and it is equally wrong today to think that we are healthy because we are many.
I concede that we have always gauged Jewish health with numbers:
• The Torah is filled with censuses, countings and recountings of the tribes of Israel.
• HaShem’s earliest promises to our ancestors included, “ואעשך לגוי גדול,” “I will make you a large nation,” and “וארבה את זרעך כחול הים,” I will make your children as many as the sand at the sea, and the stars in the heavens.”
• In the Haggadah we trumpet the fact that we descended to Egypt במתי מעט, as a tiny tribe, and quickly multiplied under HaShem’s protection.
But numbers are neither the truth of a nation’s character, nor the certain foreteller of a nation’s future. Numbers are a statistic, a symptom to be deciphered one way or another depending upon the philosophical bent of the reader.
Just look at the great many foes who enslaved us and fought against us, and have disappeared; Egyptians and Babylonians, Greeks and Assyrians and Persians and Medes and Romans all had numbers on their side, and all have long since disappeared. Numbers did not help them.
And the same is true for the Jews, in the Torah; Gd explicitly declares that numbers do not influence victory:
• The prophet Gidon leads the Jews to war, and is told, counter-intuitively, to reduce his army, because not all of the soldiers are of good character.
• After the Golden Calf, HaShem tells Moshe He is ready to eradicate the entire nation, and begin again with Moshe alone.
How many are counted doesn’t matter nearly as much as who is counted, and what they are doing when they are counted.
Certainly, as we have noted, HaShem did set forth promises to Avraham and Sarah, pledging that their descendants would become many – but the point of the promise was that their descendants would be like them, would be future Avrahams and Sarahs. Being as numerous as the stars in the heavens and the sand at the sea is meaningful if we seek Gd as they did, if we serve as they did, if we spread Torah as they did.
Mishlei says, "ברב עם הדרת מלך, There is greater glory for Gd when a greater number of people serve Him" – but that’s because they are actually serving Him. The magic is not in the numbers, it’s in the service.
Thus, in the Beis haMikdash, the rituals were designed to include the maximum number of kohanim, because having large numbers of Jews involved in serving Gd would create greater glory; the Talmud actually tells of a muscleman kohen who wanted to carry multiple parts of the offerings himself, and the rest of the kohanim prevented it in order to involve more people. With many people performing Gd’s will, that is a number to celebrate.
When 20,000 Jews gather in Madison Square Garden and six times that number around the world to complete Daf Yomi, that’s something to celebrate. When we break records in the number of Jews enrolled in Jewish schools, the number of Jews who keep kosher, the number of Jews who put up mezuzot on every doorpost in their homes – those are the numbers that matter, those are the numbers that are the hope for a Jewish future.
From time to time, I am asked, “How many families do you have in the shul?” But I much prefer when people ask, “How many mispalilim do you have on Shabbos morning – and how many people are in shul at 9 AM?” “How many families use the mikvah?” “How many people come to shiurim on Shabbos afternoon, or Tuesday night, or weekday mornings, or Monday noon?” “How many people volunteer their time to keep the shul, the mikvah, the chevra kadisha, the LVKC, the Federation, up and running?” Those are the key questions for a community, those are the signs of spiritual health.
Steven Bayme’s article focusses on whether Orthodox Jews will take a constructive leadership role in the greater Jewish world, and he concludes, “The critical question… will be whether 21st-century Orthodoxy will be modern, open-minded, inclusive, and well-educated in both secular and religious realms.”
But before we ask whether the Orthodox can lead, or play nicely with others, let us ask whether the Orthodox can even survive. Numbers are interesting, but the picture they present is as incomplete today as it was in the 1950’s. When we know that our רב עם is הדרת מלך, that our great numbers are committed to the Divine mission, then we will know that our survival is assured.
-
Notes:
1. There was a lot more I wanted to say on this, but it kept turning into a negative rant, which is bad form for a derashah. Also, it's for the third day of a three-day Yom Tov; time to keep it short and simple.
2. Gidon's troop reduction (Shoftim 7) was also to maximize the miracle, of course, but his method of reducing the troops is often understood as an attempt to weed out the inappropriate soldiers - see Rashi and Ralbag to Shoftim 7:5.
3. The principle of adding people to the service of Gd is found, among other places, in Pesachim 64b. The muscleman kohen is in Succah 52b.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
An Orthodox Ascendancy, indeed...
[Haveil Havalim is here!]
For me to give a speech about a topic, I need to feel:
1) I am exercised by the topic, and
2) I have a basic understanding of the topic, and
3) I have something substantive as well as Torah-based to contribute to the discussion.
I can't say it if I don't feel it in my gut, as a real issue for debate and action. I don’t want to present a nice dvar torah explaining a nuance in the haggadah. Divrei torah are beautiful and fulfill the mitzvah of talmud torah, but how much more wonderful it is if you can do all of that, and also motivate people in some practical way, on a topic of greatest relevance!
As of this morning I did not have a topic for Shabbos Chol haMoed. I wanted to talk about the issue of IDF conduct in Aza - it will not surprise you to hear that I think any fish wrapped in the New York Times is treif – but I’d rather save that for the last days, to match it with the theme of מעשי ידי טובעים בים ואתם אומרים שירה, the drowning Egyptians upon whom Gd has a shred of mercy. Other current topics seemed too cliché. I was starting to get worried.
Then a friend forwarded me the link to An Orthodox Ascendancy? at The Jewish Week.
Here, a few highlights:
Today, Orthodox synagogues and day schools flourish as never before in American Jewish history. Orthodox birthrates exceed those of the non-Orthodox by a factor of at least one additional child per family. Haredi birthrates generally are even greater.
Demographically, Orthodox Jews constitute at most 10 percent of the total U.S. Jewish population. Yet 23 percent of Jewish children are Orthodox, according to a United Jewish Communities report. Among affiliated Jewish homes 197,000 children are Reform, 153,000 are Conservative, and 228,000 are Orthodox. The smallest of the movements (Orthodox) contains 38 percent of the children of affiliated Jewish homes.
…
What of the future? Orthodoxy will be a force to be reckoned with. Predictions of its demise have proven entirely fictional. One sociologist estimates that given Orthodox fertility and affiliation patterns, Orthodox Jews are likely to comprise as much as half of Jewish leadership of the next generation.
I hate articles like that; they make my skin crawl. They reflect the historic Jewish fixation upon numbers, upon being like the stars in the heavens, a fixation which I believe misses the point and leads to disaster.
Which is good… because now I have my topic for Shabbos Chol haMoed…
For me to give a speech about a topic, I need to feel:
1) I am exercised by the topic, and
2) I have a basic understanding of the topic, and
3) I have something substantive as well as Torah-based to contribute to the discussion.
I can't say it if I don't feel it in my gut, as a real issue for debate and action. I don’t want to present a nice dvar torah explaining a nuance in the haggadah. Divrei torah are beautiful and fulfill the mitzvah of talmud torah, but how much more wonderful it is if you can do all of that, and also motivate people in some practical way, on a topic of greatest relevance!
As of this morning I did not have a topic for Shabbos Chol haMoed. I wanted to talk about the issue of IDF conduct in Aza - it will not surprise you to hear that I think any fish wrapped in the New York Times is treif – but I’d rather save that for the last days, to match it with the theme of מעשי ידי טובעים בים ואתם אומרים שירה, the drowning Egyptians upon whom Gd has a shred of mercy. Other current topics seemed too cliché. I was starting to get worried.
Then a friend forwarded me the link to An Orthodox Ascendancy? at The Jewish Week.
Here, a few highlights:
Today, Orthodox synagogues and day schools flourish as never before in American Jewish history. Orthodox birthrates exceed those of the non-Orthodox by a factor of at least one additional child per family. Haredi birthrates generally are even greater.
Demographically, Orthodox Jews constitute at most 10 percent of the total U.S. Jewish population. Yet 23 percent of Jewish children are Orthodox, according to a United Jewish Communities report. Among affiliated Jewish homes 197,000 children are Reform, 153,000 are Conservative, and 228,000 are Orthodox. The smallest of the movements (Orthodox) contains 38 percent of the children of affiliated Jewish homes.
…
What of the future? Orthodoxy will be a force to be reckoned with. Predictions of its demise have proven entirely fictional. One sociologist estimates that given Orthodox fertility and affiliation patterns, Orthodox Jews are likely to comprise as much as half of Jewish leadership of the next generation.
I hate articles like that; they make my skin crawl. They reflect the historic Jewish fixation upon numbers, upon being like the stars in the heavens, a fixation which I believe misses the point and leads to disaster.
Which is good… because now I have my topic for Shabbos Chol haMoed…
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