National Scholar Updates

"The heresy of one age becomes
the orthodoxy of the next."

-Helen
Keller, from an essay entitled "Optimism," 1903

Although Helen Keller was blind, she possessed great
insight. Her pithy statement, "the
heresy

[1]

of
one age becomes the orthodoxy of the next," rings as true today as when
first uttered, and aptly describes the story of the "Carlebach
Minyan," a neo-Hasidic Kabbalat
Shabbat prayer service that has spread throughout Modern Orthodoxy and
beyond to Conservative, Reconstructionist, Reform and Ultra-Orthodox synagogues.

During the 1960s, 1970s, and early 1980s, the Carlebach Shul
(on the upper West Side of Manhattan) and its unconventional Minyan charted a
new path, deviating from the practice of Modern Orthodox synagogues. Yet in the span of just one generation, the Carlebach
Minyan has become part of the accepted "orthodoxy" of the Modern
Orthodox synagogue, its "heretical" status a faded memory of the
past. This article examines the halakhic
issues raised by the Carlebach Minyan, challenging its adherents to explore new
vistas of spirituality and move beyond mimetic repetition of Carlebach's
singing and dance.

Three decades ago, an eclectic group of Jews coalesced at
the Carlebach Shul dressed in a wild array of attire. They danced in a circle, stamped their feet,
and sang wordless syllables over and over to the niggunim of Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach.
At the same hour and a short walk away, the rabbis and officers of
Manhattan's leading Modern Orthodox synagogues, Shearith Israel, The Jewish
Center, and Kehilat Jeshurun, adorned themselves with top hats and listened to
a traditional hazzan lead the
prayers. Just ten blocks south of the
Carlebach Shul, the members of Lincoln Square Synagogue, sported suits, ties,
and knitted kippot singing along to a
ba'al tefilla who embraced
traditional nusach and inserted
occasional melodies from the latest Israeli song festival. During the 1960s and 1970s, the thought that
formal synagogues with traditional cantors would one day host their own
Carlebach Minyan would likely have caused more than one top hat to tumble off a
head convulsed in laughter.

The man responsible for this neo-Hasidic incursion into
Modern Orthodoxy is less well-known than his music. Jews throughout the world sing the melodies
of Am Yisrael Chai, Borecheinu Avinu, and Adir Hu unaware of the unique life path
traveled by a musically-illiterate rabbi whose songs increasingly replace
traditional nusach.

Shlomo Carlebach descended from one of the oldest Orthodox
rabbinical dynasties in pre-Holocaust Germany. Born in Berlin
in 1925, Carlebach fled the Nazis in 1931 with his family, to Austria
and then Switzerland. When his family moved to New
York City, Carlebach remained in Lithuania
to study in yeshiva. He joined them in
1939, where his father served as the rabbi of a small synagogue on the Upper
West Side of Manhattan,
Congregation Kehilath Jacob.

Carlebach studied in the Orthodox rabbinical seminaries of
Yeshiva Torah Vodaas, Yeshiva Rabbi Chaim Berlin,
and Bais Medrash Gevoha of Lakewood,
under the tutelage of world-class scholars.
He later became a devoted hasid
of Rabbi Yosef Yitzchok Schneersohn, the sixth Rebbe of Chabad-Lubavitch. From 1951 through 1954, Carlebach worked as
one of the first outreach shelihim of
Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneersohn, the seventh Lubavitcher Rebbe.

Throughout his years in yeshiva, Carlebach was recognized
for his innate musical talent. He served
as hazzan, leading services. Carlebach began writing songs at the end of
the 1950s, setting verses from Tanakh to his own music. Although he became one of the most prolific
modern composers of Jewish liturgical music, Carlebach could not read musical
notes.

During the 1960s, Carlebach made the short trip from Manhattan's
Upper West Side, a traditional community of many
Orthodox Jews, downtown to Greenwich Village, a hot spot
for non-conformists and anti-establishment youth. Performing at folk clubs like the Village
Gate, Carlebach met and was influenced by Bob Dylan and other famous folk
singers.

In 1966, Carlebach performed at the Berkeley Folk
Festival. He decided to remain on the
West Coast, reaching out to those he called "lost Jewish souls"—
drug-addicted and disaffected youth. He
created a special center known as the House of Love and Prayer, which featured
song and communal gatherings. When their
father died in 1967, Carlebach and his twin brother assumed responsibility for
the rabbinate of the family synagogue.
Using his spiritual, folk music, Carlebach dedicated the remainder of
his life to inspire Jews of all different types around the world.

Four years after Carlebach's death in 1994, Lilith Magazine,
a Jewish feminist periodical, published detailed allegations of sexual
impropriety against him. The accusations
kicked off a fire-storm of controversy with no real resolution. Because the article was published after his
death, Carlebach had no way to address or refute these allegations.

Drawing from a life influenced by both insular Lithuanian yeshivot and the Free Love movement of
the Folk Music era, by both Torah luminaries and folk music icons, Shlomo
Carlebach embraced the values of spiritual spontaneity and self-expression to
tap into the inner recesses of the soul.
He prayed with a different nusach
influenced by secular folk artists, vigorous dancing and clapping, repetition
of syllables to his niggunim, long
periods of time spent in a service, and a predominance of music over the
content of the words.

The following questions explore halakhic issues related to the
Carlebach Minyan:

1) Should we associate the name of Rabbi Carlebach with
these types of prayer services as a tribute to his contribution to Jewish
prayer, or choose another name to avoid an association between an accused
sexual abuser and prayer?

2) Is it permissible to modify the liturgical music of a
community or synagogue?

3) If permissible, may we draw inspiration from non-Jewish
sources? And if so, from which ones?

4) Is it permissible to lengthen the time of prayer
services? And if so, by how much?

5)May music dominate the words of the tefillot, allowing
distortion and repetition?

Finally, curiosity inspires an additional question. Today's Carlebach Minyan has won wide-spread
acceptance in the Modern Orthodox world and beyond. As is common with "orthodox"
practices, many worshippers at today's Carlebach Minyan faithfully repeat the
same dance steps, sing the same niggunim,
and clap the same rhythms in the exact manner and in the same places of the prayers. Carlebach's spontaneity and self-expression
of inner recesses have become truly "orthodox," succumbing to
imitative, rote practice, albeit one which brings comfort and inspiration to
its participants. Were Shlomo Carlebach
to attend one of today's services bearing his name, would he join in or would
he move on to establish new spiritual "heresies"?

Question 1

Should we associate the name of Rabbi Carlebach with these types of
prayer services?

The Torah adjures us to avoid causing pain through
speech. In Vayikra 25:17 we read, "a person shall not oppress his
neighbor and you shall fear your God, because I am the Lord, your
God." In Bava Metzia 58b, Hazal expand the concept of oppression
beyond taking advantage of someone financially to include harmful speech. We may not remind the repentant individual
and the children of converts about past deeds.
We may not tell a convert who comes to learn Torah, "the mouth that
ate forbidden foods comes to learn."
We may not speak to a sick person, a person who has suffered, or one who
has lost a child in the same way Job's friends spoke to him, saying "Is
not your piety your confidence, your integrity your hope? Think now, what innocent man ever
perished?"

[2]

One may not inquire about the price of
an object if he does not intend to purchase it.
When a person asks about where to obtain an object, it is prohibited to
refer him or her to a person he knows has not sold the item before.

In a separate case, the Talmud prohibits the use of a
derogatory nickname, even though the person regularly answers to it.

[3]

Rashi explains that the name calling itself
does not harm; the Rabbis do not allow use of the name calling if the intent of
the speaker is to insult the individual.
Tur and R. Yosef Karo in the Shulhan Arukh, Hoshen Mishpat, 228:5, adopt this explanation and prohibit calling
one by a derogatory nickname.

A Jew violates the prohibition of harmful speech even
without malicious intent. In the cases
involving the repentant, the children of converts, the convert, the one who has
suffered, one who inquires about the price of an object without intent to buy,
or the person in quest of an object, the statements could be made without
malicious intent. Reminding the
repentant or children of converts of earlier deeds may be done to encourage
continued religious growth. According to
Ramban, Job's friends offered
support, telling him that he had nothing to fear because of his piety,
integrity, and innocence.

[4]

A person may not intend to buy now while
looking, but may change his mind after inquiring. Referring someone to a person who has not
previously sold an object can be done with a positive purpose if the one making
the statement thinks he may sell the item in the future or may know of another
seller. It is only in the case of the
derogatory nickname that the Talmud requires negative intent to violate the
prohibition of harmful speech, because the person who is the object of the
nickname is accustomed to hearing an unflattering appellation. The halakha
offers two insights: 1) speech is
prohibited if the listener could interpret it as insulting even when the
speaker lacks harmful intent, and 2) an act of intentionally harmful speech is
prohibited even if the individual will not be insulted.

Rav Yosef Karo incorporates the Talmud's insight about the
potential harm of oppressive speech. It
is a sin worse than taking advantage of someone's money. The latter can be returned; there is no just
recompense for harmful words. Financial
oppression affects a person's money; oppressive speech harms the individual
directly.

[5]

If we must protect the repentant, the children of converts,
converts, those who have suffered, sellers, and even purchasers from innocent
comments that may cause harm, we must extend the same concern to members of our
own prayer communities. By using
Carlebach's name, we reopen wounds for those claiming to be victims and all
other victims of sexual abuse, even without intent to do so. When they see Carlebach's name advertised in
synagogue prayer schedules on a regular basis, they relive their pain and
question why a faith community with high moral standards venerates an accused
abuser by elevating his name. Because
those listening could interpret the use of Carlebach's name as callous,
insensitive, and insulting, synagogues should refrain from its use. Substituting another name for the service
would minimize potential harm to any sensitive individual.

In an age when religion in general and Judaism in particular
has suffered a desecration of God's name because of tolerated sexual abusers,
we should err on the side of caution and choose another name for this
spiritually-meaningful minyan. We cannot deny that Carlebach never had the
opportunity to defend himself. Nor can
we deny that benefiting from his melodies without attribution seems unfair;
however, when faced with these conflicting issues, we should assume the
validity of the accusations against him for this question and protect those who
claim to be his and others' victims.

By siding with one side of this conflict, we do not pass
judgment on the guilt or innocence of Carlebach of the extensive accusations
leveled against him in the 1998 Lilith
article. We recognize that mere
accusations without proof and the opportunity for the accused to address them
may fall into the category of lashon hara,
tale bearing. The conclusion that his
name not be used for this type of minyan
seeks to avoid causing emotional distress through the application of shev v'al ta'aseh, of not taking
action. We do not suggest a conviction
of Carlebach in the court of public opinion; rather, we merely suggest finding
a more universal name to refer to the type of service he created.

From this point forward in this article, the term
Neo-Hasidic Minyan shall be used to refer to the Carlebach Minyan.

[6]

Question 2

Is it permissible to modify the liturgical music of a community or
synagogue?

In Shulhan Arukh, Orah
Hayyim, Section 619:1, Mehaber
and Rama describe the order of
prayers for the evening of Yom Kippur. Rama records the opinion of Maharil

[7]

: "One may not change the custom of a
community, even the melodies or liturgical poems they say there."

Rama offers only
the tersest statement of the following anecdote taken from Sefer Maharil, Laws of Yom
Kippur:

Our teacher, Rabbi Yaakov Seigel
[Maharil] said we do not change the
custom of the place for any matter, including for melodies they are
unaccustomed to sing. He told us the
story about himself that once he was the prayer leader in the community of
Ransburg for the High Holidays. He was
using the melodies of the custom for the Austrian community, because that was
the custom. He was bothered because they
used for the Haftara the tune of the
Reines community. He told us he recited
on that day the penitential prayer, "I, I am the One who speaks,"
which R. Ephraim set up to recite in Musaf. He thought it was a mitsva to say it there for the honor of R. Ephraim, the author, who
is buried there. The leaders of the
community said it was not their custom to say that penitential prayer. Because of [R. Yaakov's] desire to honor R.
Ephraim, he did not listen [to the leaders of the community]. A year later, [R. Yaakov's] daughter died on Yom Kippur. The Rav's statement [above that we do not
change the custom of the place for any matter] was shown to be just, for his
daughter was stricken, because he changed the custom of the place.

The full source reveals that Maharil prohibited changes that went against the wishes of the
leaders of the community. The leaders of
the congregation specifically told Maharil
they did not recite the Seliha he
felt appropriate. In his mind, the
tragic loss of Maharil's daughter
became a catalyst to preserve tradition.
Magen Avraham

[8]

offers an explanation for Maharil's
ruling, suggesting that changing tunes will confuse the congregation, in his
words, Da'at Ha'Kahal, presumably represented
by the leaders of the congregation.

[9]

Mishna Brura

[10]

records the prohibition and the reasoning of Magen Avraham.

[11]

Adding an alternative explanation, the Vilna
Ga'on

[12]

voices a concern that change may provoke controversy or mahloket in the community.

Without its full context, Maharil's
statement could be interpreted to prohibit all changes of custom and the
insertion of any new melodies for any prayer by either the congregation, its
leaders, or a temporary hazzan. There are those who argue nusach is a closed canon, and we may not
add at all to its musical idioms.

[13]

History and halakha (see Question 3 below) argue against this point of view.

[14]

After the period of Maharil, Jewish musical composition developed new idioms that have
been absorbed into prayer. New movements
in Jewish music include the Hasidism of the 18th century and German synagogue
music of the 19th century. History
denies the claim that Jewish liturgical music ceased development in the
mid-15th century when Maharil
enumerated the MiSinai tunes.

[15]

A restrictive reading of Maharil
ignores the original source and its focus on defying the will of the
congregation by contradicting its leaders.
In addition, Rama's citation
of Maharil only in the laws of Yom Kippur raises the question of whether
Rama intended to restrict change on
other holidays or Shabbat. The restriction of Maharil does not appear in the laws of Rosh HaShana and Shabbat.

Nothing in Maharil's original
source prohibits a congregation from choosing to adopt new melodies so long as
it avoids confusion (Magen Avraham)
or contention (Vilna Gaon).

Question 3

May we draw musical inspiration from non-Jewish sources? And if so, from which ones?

The debate over the use of non-Jewish music for prayer
reflects the wider differences of opinion over interaction with non-Jewish
society. Rejectionists advocate
cloistering off Judaism from outsiders to fight foreign influences, even that
of musical notes. At the other extreme,
integrationists support embracing the musical culture of the current
milieu. A third approach suggests
finding a middle ground between these two poles.

Rejectionists point to a statement of R. Yehuda HeHasid

[16]

in
his Sefer Hasidim where he
writes: "A person who has nice
pleasant voice should be careful not to sing the songs of gentiles, because it
is a sin. A pleasant voice was not given
to him except to praise the Creator, may He be blessed, and not for other
singing. Ma’aseh Rokeah

[17]

interprets R. Yehuda’s comment to mean that
even though the content of the words is holy, the “filthy” melody of the
gentiles will detract from the holiness of the prayers; hence, the use of non-Jewish
melodies is forbidden.

[18]

Moving away from total rejection,
the middle ground allows certain types of non-Jewish music. Bach
(Rabbi Yoel Sirkes, 1561-1640, Poland) in his Responsa (section 127) permits
non-Jewish liturgical music, what he calls "the melodies they play in
their houses of worship," so long as these melodies are not specifically
identified with idolatry. If they are not exclusively identified with
idolaters, then one could claim they are not derived from idolatry and
therefore permissible. Although Rama quotes Bach without
any clarification and says a community should prevent the shaliah tsibur
from singing the melodies of the gentiles, Magen Avraham (ibid.,
subsection 31)and Mishna Brura (ibid., subsection 82) both clarify that Rama
means only those melodies exclusively identified with idolatry.

Rav Ovadia Yosef explains that great Sephardi rabbis
throughout generations composed songs and liturgical poems for personal joyous
occasions and for Shabbat and the holidays, "based upon the composers of
Arabic songs."

[19]

Citing R.
Yisrael Moshe Hazan, the Chief Rabbi of Rome
in the mid-19th century, R. Yosef explains that the use of Arabic
romance ballad melodies was permitted, because the substance was holy and the
words of the romance ballads are not remembered during prayers.

[20]

R. Yosef offers an alternative middle position. He suggests the use of derivative melodies,
tunes that originate as romance ballads or secular songs and are applied to Shabbat zemirot or sentences from Tanakh.
Only after the songs have passed through a period of
"purification," cleansing the original association, should they be
used for prayers. R. Yosef reasons the
secular words are forgotten through the passage of time and the melodies become
sanctified.

[21]

Unlike the rejectionists and the middle position,
integrationists embrace unrestricted integration of gentile musical
culture. In Responsa Shel Romi, R.
Yisrael Moshe Hazan writes:

And I testify upon heaven and
earth that when I was in the great city of rabbis and scribes of Izmir, I saw
great rabbis who were also great cantors knowledgeable in musicology, and the
chief of them was the awesome rabbi Avraham HaCohen Arias, who would go behind
the Christian church on the [gentile] holidays to learn from them special
musical tunes, and to make those melodies fit the prayers of Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur, days which require great subjugation. And they set forth from [the gentile
religious tunes] inspiring songs for Kaddish
and Kedusha. And it is clear from here that we do not care
about the melody but the holy words,...

[22]

From the testimony of R. Hazan we learn that a tradition
existed for great Sephardi leaders to study Christian church music with the
express purpose to integrate church melodies into the liturgy of Yamim Noraim, even in light of the
famous ruling of the Rambam that Catholicism constitutes idolatry.

[23]

Assuming the Sephardi rabbinic
"eavesdroppers" accepted the Rambam's ruling, these rabbis used not
only music with multiple identities as approved by Bach, but even melodies specifically attributable to what they
considered idolatry.

Praying to music influenced by Bob Dylan and the folk era
has ample support based upon the opinions of the middle ground and those who
espouse integration with wider culture.

Question 4:

Is it permissible to lengthen the time of prayer services? And if so, by how much?

The Neo-Hasidic Minyan lasts considerably longer than other
services. With niggunim repeated numerous times and extended circle dancing, Kabbalat Shabbat services can last as
long as 90 minutes, exceeding a standard minyan
by up to an hour. Participants generally
sing the chapters of Tehillim with
the shaliah tsibur, breaking out into
Eastern European style dancing. The
great majority of the service is spent on Kabbalat
Shabbat with far less time invested in Arvit.

The length of a service raises two issues: Torah
HaTsibur, burdening the congregation, and Hetsyo LaShem, Hetsyo Lakhem, the proper celebration of Shabbat and Yom Tov.

Shulhan Arukh, Orah
Hayyim, 53:11, prohibits a shaliah
tsibur from lengthening a service to serve egotistical needs, because it
causes torah hatsibur. A hazzan
who shares his "pleasant" voice, instead of focusing on the joy he
feels to stand before God, reflects negatively on himself. Although R. Karo praises the shaliah tsibur whose heart is filled
with rejoicing, he should nevertheless limit the length of his prayer to avoid
burdening the congregation. Mishna B'rura cites Yam Shel Shelomo

[24]

who requires
the consent of the congregation to lengthen any service, even on Shabbat and the holidays.

[25]

According to some, a congregation can decide
to tolerate a burden.

[26]

In that case, participants in a Neo-Hasidic
Minyan who consent by their presence could pray as long as they like.

Objective requirements, however, limit the consent of a
congregation to pray without being conscious of passing time. Yam
Shel Shelomo restricts the length of a service even if the congregation
consents. A service that is too long
prevents a Jew from fulfilling neither Hetsyo
LaShem nor Hetsyo Lakhem,
"Half for God, Half for Man,"

[27]

specific requirements for the proper celebration of Shabbat and Yom Tov.

The concept of Hetsyo
LaShem, Hetsyo Lakhem appears in Pesahim
68b:

We learned in a Beraita: R.
Eliezer says: on Yom Tov a person either eats and drinks totally or sits and
learns totally. R. Yehoshua says: Divide it; half for eating and drinking and
half for the Beit Midrash. And R. Yohanan said: The two of them interpreted one text. One sentence says (Devarim 16) "A day of gathering to the Lord, your
God." A second sentence says (Bemidbar 29) "A day of gathering
for you." R. Eliezer held: either
all for God or all for you [Man]. R.
Yehoshua held: divide it; half for God
and half for you [Man]...Rabba said: Everyone agrees that Shabbat requires "for you" [Man]. What is the reason - Isaiah 58: "You
shall call Shabbat a pleasure.

To properly observe Yom
Tov and Shabbat, a Jew must
reserve enough time in the day for pleasures of eating, resting,
socializing. Remaining in synagogue too
long impedes the human enjoyment God intended for the day. The reasoning of Yam Shel Shelomo that an extended service interferes with enough
time to enjoy physical pleasures reflects the imposition on a person's time
outside the synagogue. His curious
remark that a lengthy service interferes with serving God imparts an
insight into the nature of tefilla. An over-extended prayer service becomes an
unauthorized burden on the congregants, even when they consent to the length,
perhaps because it breaches the attention span a person has for concentrating
on the meaning of the words of prayer.
In the case of the Neo-Hasidic Minyan, the diversion of lengthy dancing
and singing away from the words of tefilla
may take the experience outside the Hetsyo
LaShem of prayer and into a self-focused celebration of communal dancing
and singing. The experience ceases to
focus on the words of prayer and instead celebrates dancing and singing.

Question 5:

May we allow the music to dominate the tefillot, distorting the words
and diverting attention away from their meaning?

With its emphasis on niggunim
and dance, participants in a Neo-Hasidic Minyan often distort the words of the tefilla.
They lengthen and split words and emphasize an incorrect syllable in an
attempt to make the words conform to the melody.

R. Ovadia Yosef cautions shelihei
tsibur, and presumably participants in the congregation, against these
practices. Lengthening a particular word
to match the meter of a melody causes the word to lose its meaning. The longer a word is lengthened, the more is
lost. Splitting words should be
avoided. Taking a breath in the middle
of a word divides it in two. R. Yosef
cites the Noda B'Yehuda, who wrote
that prayer leaders take the foolish path when, for the sake of the melody,
they split a word into sections. When a hazzan emphasizes the wrong syllable,
writes R. Yosef, he enslaves holy words to a secular melody. The outcome is that the "maid
servant" rules over her "mistress".

[28]

To give vocal expression to the niggunim, participants in Neo-Hasidic Minyanim utilize sounds, such
as Ni or Yi (as in the word "night"),
in effect singing meaningless words.
They repeat these words to the melody, singing for several minutes at a
time. These repetitions occur in the
Psalms of Kabbalat Shabbat.

R. Yosef records the case for and against the repetition of
words in tefilla. Those against argue that repeating words is
an unauthorized interruption, hefsek gamur,
and completely disturbs the required kavana,
or intention, of tefilla, even if
there is no express prohibition of interrupting at that place in the tefilla.

[29]

Those who permit repeating words reason that
based upon Berakhot 33b we are only
concerned about a cantor who says "Shema, Shema" or "Modim,
Modim" because it appears as if he believes in Zoroastrianism. Because the Talmud only mentions these two
instances, we deduce that with other words there is no prohibition. Moreover, repeating words intensifies the
expression of praise for God; it does not detract from the intention of the one
praying. One could repeat the words of kedusha even though we are forbidden
from extraneous interruptions at that point.

[30]

Conclusion

When Shlomo Carlebach's Neo-Hasidic services first emerged on the New York scene, they reflected the emphasis on
spirituality and inner feelings that captivated the Love and Peace generation of
the 1960s and 1970s. Despite that
generation's desire to break out of the restrictions imposed by the
Establishment, Carlebach remained within the Orthodox world and the
restrictions imposed by halakha on
prayer.
Carlebach found within the limits of halakha considerable freedom of expression.

The praying public swiftly adopted Carlebach's Neo-Hasidic Minyan, a
testimony to his musical and spiritual insight.
Although the chord he struck in the heart of Jews around the world still
stands, his model for defining decisive new expressions of spirituality within halakha will disappear unless his
adherents continue to follow in his footsteps.
Seeking out new modes of worship need not mean the abandonment of
Carlebach's melodies, dancing, and singing.
Enough opportunities exist to preserve his popular prayer services yet
explore new vistas.

For those souls adventurous and willing to experiment, the sky's the
limit; melodies wafting heavenward from any of God's houses of worship could be
converted and brought into the fold of Jewish liturgical music. To truly follow in the footsteps of their
beloved Reb Shlomo and his quest for greater spirituality, those comfortable
with his new "orthodoxy" might consider creating new
"heresies," ones which he could join in on and embrace.

[1]

In this instance, I use the
term "heresy" to mean an opinion at variance with the commonly
accepted doctrine. I do not intend to
imply an unauthorized doctrinal opinion tending to promote a schism.

[2]

Job 4:6-7.

[3]

Bava Metsia, 58b.

[4]

Kitvei Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, Shaval, Hayyim Dov, Mossad HaRav Kook, 1963, p.
37.

[5]

Shulhan Aruch, Hoshen Mishpat, 228:1.

[6]

An alternative suggestion
offered by a colleague who regularly participates in this type of service is to
call them "Happy Clappy Minyanim," an apt description.

[7]

R. Yaakov HaLevi Mollin,
also known as Mahari Segal, 1356-1427, Rhineland. Maharil was not only the Chief Rabbi of the Rhineland, he was one of the great
prayer leaders of his time. Following
the example of great rabbinical leaders since Gaonic times, Maharil acted as a
Chazzan. He traveled throughout the Rhineland and Europe leading services and
listening to liturgy sung over many years.
Maharil sought authentic traditional melodies and elevated them to the
status of tunes MiSinai, a term used
to establish their venerable source and unchanging quality. Through his efforts, Maharil contributed
enormously to the establishment of the Ashkenazi prayer rite. Goffin, Sherwood,
"The Music of the Yamim
Noraim," Yeshiva University, Rosh Hashana To-Go,
Tishrei 5769, pp. 35-36.

[8]

R. Abraham Gumbiner, 1633-1683, Poland.

[9]

Shulhan Aruch, Orah Hayyim, 619:7.

[10]

R. Yisrael Meir Kagan, 1838-1933, Poland.

[11]

Shulhan Aruch, Orah Hayyim, 619:7.

[12]

R. Elijah ben Shlomo Zalman, 1720-1797, Lithuania.

[13]

See
Goffin, p. 36, fn. 27, in which he records the opinion of Rav Hershel Schachter
of Yeshiva University who conflates Magen Avraham, Orach Hayyim 68:1 and Maharil's restriction cited by Rama. Magen
Avraham O.C. 68:1 says that one may
not change any of the essential minhagim in prayer that is traditional with a
congregation. Applying that restriction
with that of Maharil would limit any
musical change in any service.

[14]

Bodoff, Lippman, "Innovation in Synagogue
Music," Tradition, 23(4), Summer 1988, pp. 90-101, 90-91.

[15]

Bodoff, p. 92.

[16]

12th century, Germany.

[17]

R. Masoud Hai Rokeah, mid-18th century, Tripoli.

[18]

Sefer Ma'aseh
Rokeah, Chapter 8 from Laws of Prayer
11. See also, Tsits Eliezer, 13:12
who prohibits the use of romance ballads.

[19]

Responsa Yeheva
Da'at, Vol. II, Section 5.

[20]

Responsa Yabia
Omer, Vol. VI, Orah Hayyim,
Section 7.

[21]

Responsa Yeheva
Da'at, Vol. II, Section 5.

[22]

Ibid.

[23]

For example, see
Laws of Idolatry, Chapter 9, Law 4: In
many original manuscripts before censorship: "[Christians] (Edommites) are idolators and Sunday is their
festival." Rambam Mishneh Torah, Kushta, Jerusalem, 1964, pg. 265.

[24]

R. Shlomo Luria, 1510-1574,
Brisk.

[25]

Mishna Brura,
Section 53, Subsection 36.

[26]

Magen Avraham,
Orah Hayyim, 144:7.

[27]

Mishneh
Brura, Section 53, Subsection 36.

[28]

Responsa
Yabia Omer, Vol. VI, Orah Hayyim, Section 7.

[29]

Ibid.

[30]

Ibid, citing,
Responsa Ziknei Yehuda (131) of R.
Yehuda D'Modina (1574-1648, Venice),
who permitted repetition of the word "crown" in kedusha of Musaf.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights,that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.” These words from the American Declaration of Independence reflect the deepest ideals and aspirations of the American people. America is not merely a country, vast and powerful; America is an idea, a vision of life as it could be.

When these words were first proclaimed on July 4, 1776, Congregation Shearith Israel was almost 122 years old. It was a venerable community, with an impressive history--a bastion of Jewish faith and tradition,and an integral part of the American experience.

When the British invaded New York in 1776, a large group of congregants, including our Hazan Rev. Gershom Mendes Seixas,left the city rather than live under British rule. Many joined the Revolutionary army and fought for American independence.

Some remained in New York, and conducted services in our synagogue building on Mill Street. Early in the war, British soldiers broke into the synagogue and desecrated two Torah scrolls. This was not just an attack on scrolls, but was a symbolic assault on the spiritual foundations of Judaism, the self-same foundations upon which the American republic has been built.

In our service today, we read from one of these Torah scrolls as a symbolic response to those soldiers, and to all those who would seek to undermine the eternal teachings of Torah and the principles of American democracy: we are not intimidated, we are not afraid. Generation by generation, we will continue to live by our ideals and by our faith. Generation by generation, we will lend our strength to the great American enterprise that promises hope and freedom, one nation under God, withliberty and justice for all.

Our story in America is not built on historical abstractions, but on generations of Jews who have played their roles in the unfolding of this nation. It is a very personal history, ingrained in our collective memory.

Attending this service today are descendants of Jews of the Colonial period, whose ancestors served in the American Revolution; descendants of families including de Lucena, Gomez, Nathan,Hendricks, Phillips, Franks, Cardozo, Seixas. We welcome descendants of Rev.Johannes Polhemus, minister of the Dutch Reformed Church, who was on the same ship as the first group of 23 Jews who arrived in New Amsterdam in September 1654.

We welcome representatives of our sister congregations that date back to the Colonial period: from the Touro Synagogue in Newport; from Mikveh Israel in Philadelphia; we have representatives or words of congratulations from the historic congregations in Savannah, Charleston and Richmond. We welcome members of our sister congregation, the Spanish and Portuguese community of London.

We welcome elected officials and their representatives. We welcome officers of the 20th precinct, who serve our community with courage and dedication. We welcome leaders of the American Jewish community, and those who have worked so hard for Celebrate 350, the national umbrella group commemorating the 350th anniversary of American Jewry. Indeed we welcome all congregants and friends who have gathered here today on this historic occasion.

A number of those present today participated in the Tercentenary celebrations of 1954. We have a member here today whose mother—now 107 years old—was part of our community during the 250th anniversary celebrations in 1904/5.

Among us are descendants of Jews from all parts of the world, Jews who came to America at different times and under different circumstances; including those who are themselves first generation Americans and first generation Jews. For 350 years, our generations have been part of the American experience, and have striven to make this a better nation.

We have just read from the Revolutionary Period Torah scroll, from the section known as “Kedoshim”, only a few columns from where the British soldiers damaged the scroll. Kedoshim opens with a challenge to the people of Israel to be a holy nation, to live according to the commandments of God, to have the courage and inner strength to maintain Torah ideals in a world that is not always receptive to such lofty teachings. The portion goes on to specify how we are to manifest holiness: through charity;honesty; commitment to truth and justice; through the avoidance of gossip and hatred. It culminates with the words: ve-ahavta le-re-aha kamokha, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself. The very principles enjoined by this passage are the spiritual foundations of the United States of America. These teachings are constant reminders of howto live a good life and build a righteous society; they also are prods to make us realize how far short we fall from these ideals, how much more work remains to be done.

On this 350th anniversary of the American Jewish community,we reflect on the courage and heroic efforts of our forebears who have maintained Judaism as a vibrant and living force in our lives. We express gratitude to America for having given us—and all citizens—the freedom to practice our faith. This very freedom has energized and strengthened America.

Within Congregation Shearith Israel, we have been blessed with men and women who have helped articulate Jewish ideals and American ideals. Their voices have blended in with the voices of fellow Americans of various religions and races,to help shape the dream and reality of America.

The American Declaration of Independence pronounced that all men are created equal. In his famous letter to the Jewish community of Newport, in August 1790, President George Washington hailed the United States for allowing its citizens freedom—not as a favor bestowed by one group on another—but in recognition of the inherent natural rights of all human beings. This country, wrote President Washington, “gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance.”

And yet, if equality and human dignity are at the core of American ideals, the fulfillment of these ideals have required—and still require—sacrifice and devotion. Reality has not always kept up with the ideals. In 1855, Shearith Israel member Uriah Phillips Levy—who rose to the rank of Commodore in the U.S. Navy—was dropped from the Navy’s active duty list. He was convinced that anti-Semitism was at the root of this demotion. He appealed the ruling and demanded justice.He asked: are people “now to learn to their sorrow and dismay that we too have sunk into the mire of religious intolerance and bigotry?... What is my case today, if you yield to this injustice, may tomorrow be that of the Roman Catholic or the Unitarian, the Presbyterian or the Methodist, the Episcopalian or the Baptist. There is but one safeguard: that is to be found in an honest,whole-hearted, inflexible support of the wise, the just, the impartial guarantee of the Constitution.” Levy won his case. He helped the United States remain true to its principles.

Shearith Israel member Moses Judah (1735-1822) believed that all men were created equal—including black men. In 1799, he was elected to the New York Society for Promoting the Manumission of Slaves. During his tenure on the standing committee between 1806 and 1809, about fifty slaves were freed.Through his efforts, many other slaves achieved freedom. He exerted himself to fight injustice, to expand the American ideals of freedom and equality regardless of race or religion.

Another of our members, Maud Nathan, believed that all men were created equal—but so were all women created equal. She was a fiery, internationally renowned suffragette, who worked tirelessly to advance a vision of America that indeed recognized the equality of all its citizens—men and women. As President of the Consumers’ League of New York from 1897-1917, Maud Nathan was a pioneer in social activism, working for the improvement of working conditions of employees in New York’s department stores. Equality and human dignity were the rights of all Americans,rich and poor, men and women.

The Declaration of Independence proclaimed that human beings have unalienable rights, among them are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.These words express the hope and optimism of America. They area repudiation of the tyranny and oppression that prevailed—and still prevail—in so many lands. America is a land of opportunity, where people can live in freedom. The pursuit of happiness really signifies the pursuit of self-fulfillment, of a meaningful way of life. America’s challenge was—and still is—to create a harmonious society that allows us to fulfill our potentials.

President George Washington declared a day of national Thanksgiving for November 26, 1789. Shearith Israel held a service, at which Hazan Gershom Mendes Seixas called on this congregation “to unite, with cheerfulness and uprightness…to promote that which has a tendency to the public good.” Hazzan Seixas believed that Jews, in being faithful to Jewish tradition, would be constructive and active participants in American society.

Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness were not reserved only for those born in America; they are the rights of all human beings everywhere. This notion underlies the idealism of the American dream, calling for a sense of responsibility for all suffering people, whether at home or abroad. American Jews have been particularly sensitive and responsive to this ideal.

On March 8,1847, Hazan Jacques Judah Lyons addressed a gathering at Shearith Israel for the purpose of raising funds for Irish famine relief. The potato crop in Ireland had failed in 1846, resulting in widespread famine. Hazan Lyons well realized that the Jewish community needed charitable dollars for its own internal needs; and yet he insisted that Jews reach out and help the people of Ireland. He said that there was one indestructible and all-powerful link between us and the Irish sufferers: “That link, my brethren,is HUMANITY! Its appeal to the heart surmounts every obstacle. Clime, color, sect are barriers which impede not its progress thither.” In assisting with Irish famine relief, the Jewish community reflected its commitment to the well-being of all suffering human beings.American Jewry grew into—and has continued to be—a great philanthropic community perhaps unmatched in history. Never have so few given so much to so many. In this, we have been true to our Jewish tradition, and true to the spirit of America.

Who articulated the hope and promise of America more eloquently than Emma Lazarus? “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.” How appropriate it is that her poem is affixed to the great symbol of American freedom, the Statue of Liberty.

Alice Menken, (for many years President of our Sisterhood) did remarkable work to help immigrants, to assist young women who ran into trouble with the law, to promote reform of the American prison system. She wrote: “We must seek a balanced philosophy of life. We must live to make the world worth living in, with new ideals, less suffering, and more joy.”

Americans see ourselves as one nation, indivisible, under God, with liberty and justice for all. Yet, liberty and justice are not automatically attained. They have required—and still require—wisdom, vigilance, and active participation. America prides itself on being a nation of laws, with no one above the law. The American legal tradition has been enriched by the insights and the work of many American Jews.

In one of his essays, Justice Benjamin Nathan Cardozo—a devoted member of Shearith Israel--referred to a Talmudic passage which has been incorporated into our prayer book. It asks that the Almighty let His mercy prevail over strict justice. Justice Cardozo reminded us that the American system relies not only on justice—but on mercy. Mercy entails not merely an understanding of laws, but an understanding of the human predicament, of human nature, of the circumstances prevailing inhuman society. Another of our members,Federal Judge William Herlands, echoed this sentiment when he stated that Justice without Mercy—is just ice!

Our late rabbis Henry Pereira Mendes, David de Sola Pool and Louis C.Gerstein, were singularly devoted to social welfare, to religious education, to the land of Israel. They distinguished themselves for their devotion to Zionism, and played their parts in the remarkable unfolding of the State of Israel. They, along with so many American Jews, have keenly understood how much unites Israel and the United States—two beacons of democracy and idealism in a very troubled world.

These individuals—along with so many other American Jews—were exponents of the American ideals and the American dream. During the past 350 years, the American Jewish community has accomplished much and contributed valiantly to all aspects of American life. We have cherished our participation in American life. We have been free to practice our faith and teach our Torah. We have worked with Americans of other faiths and traditions to mold a better,stronger, more idealistic nation.

America today is not just a powerful and vast country. It is also an idea, a compelling idea that has a message for all people in all lands. As American Jews, we are committed to the ideals of freedom and equality, human dignity and security, to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, the pursuit of harmony among ourselves and throughout the world. We have come far as a nation, but very much remains to be done. May God give us the strength and resolve to carry on, to work proudly as Jews to bring the American dream to many more generations of humanity.

I close with a prayer spoken by Mordecai Manuel Noah at the consecration of our second Mill Street Synagogue on April 17, 1818: “May we prove ever worthy of His blessing; may He look down from His heavenly abode, and send us peace and comfort; may He instill in our minds a love of country, of friends,and of all mankind. Be just, therefore,and fear not. That God who brought us out of the land of Egypt, who walked before us like ‘a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night,’ will never desert his people Israel.”

During the middle ages, Jews lived in the island of Mallorca (Majorca) as in many other parts of Spain. With the vicious anti-Jewish persecutions of 1391 and shortly thereafter, open Jewish life came to an end in Mallorca. Those Jews who remained were forced to accept Catholicism.

In spite of their having converted to Catholicism, these "new Christians" were subject to ongoing humiliations. The "old Christians" referred to them with the pejorative term "Chuetas". The Chuetas were disdained because of their Jewish blood. No matter that they were now Catholics, the Chuetas were assumed to maintain Judaism in private; the old Christians shunned them, and certainly did not want to marry them.

During the late 17th century, the Inquisition tortured, murdered and plundered the property of hundreds of Chuetas. During the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries, Chuetas continued to suffer periodic outbursts of hatred and violence against them from their Christian neighbors.

While many Mallorcans of Jewish ancestry did eventually find ways to marry into old Christian families, fifteen Chueta families retained their "Jewishness" and married only within their own group. It is estimated that there may be 15-20,000 Chuetas in present-day Mallorca, with many of them stemming from these 15 families.

Some months ago, I received an email from my friend, Michael Freund, head of Shavei Yisrael. Shavei Yisrael is an organization that seeks to find "lost Jews" and bring them back to Judaism and re-connect them with the land and State of Israel. Among the groups that Shavei Yisrael has been interested in are the Chuetas. Indeed, Shavei Yisrael has brought a group of Chuetas to visit Israel and to renew their ties to their ancestral faith and people.

Michael told me of a Chueta gentleman who was making public his Jewishness, and was inspiring other Chuetas to come out openly as Jews. He has published books in Spanish about the Chueta experience, and has lectured widely in the Spanish-speaking world. His message: we are Jews; we want to come back to our people; we want to reclaim the Jewish heritage that was robbed from us by a fanatical Church. We have suffered abuse and humiliation for centuries because of our Jewish blood. We are proud of our Jewish blood. We want to live in freedom and dignity as Jews.

This gentleman, now in his 60s, is named Miquel Segura. Segura is one of the 15 families that retained their separateness from the old Christian society. Miguel's mother's maiden name was Aguilo--also a name of one of the 15 families. He meticulously researched his family tree (which includes an ancestor murdered by the Inquisition in the late 1600s), and it is clear that he is, in fact, of pure Jewish descent.

Michael Freund told me that Miquel Segura wants some formal recognition that he is Jewish. He wants the Jewish community to accept him--and other Chuetas with similar genealogical evidence--as a Jew. It would seem that the Jewish community, led by its rabbis, would rush to embrace Miquel and those Chuetas who wish to return to the faith and people of Israel. Yet, while some have indeed shown warmth and happiness, it seems that many have been suspicious, skeptical, unwelcoming. Do we really want to embrace people who have lived as Catholics for the past 5 centuries, and accept them as fellow Jews?

My response to Michael was: based on the information given to me, Miquel Segura is Jewish according to halakha. He does not need to convert, because he is already Jewish, and he can prove it with his family tree. Michael agreed with me, but said Miquel needs something more than a simple affirmation of his Jewishness. I suggested (and Michael cleared this with a rabbinic authority in Israel with whom he works) that Miquel Segura come to New York, to my synagogue--the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue of New York City--which was founded in 1654 by Jews whose ancestors had lived for a period as crypto-Jews in Spain and Portugal. Let him come to this, the oldest Jewish congregation in North America, whose founders well understood the ordeals of crypto-Judaism and the fear of the Inquisition.

On December 17, 2009, Miquel Segura came to Shearith Israel, the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue of New York City. Michael Freund flew in from Israel to be with us. I invited a member of our congregation, Bentsi Cohen, to join us as well, since he is fluent in Spanish and could help us if we had problems communicating. Following morning prayer services, the four of us--along with Miquel's wife and several friends--walked to the Mikvah on West 74th Street. Miquel immersed in the Mikvah--not as an act of conversion, and not in the presence of a beth din--but as an act of purification. It was a symbolic rebirth into the faith and peoplehood of Israel. We gave him a certificate with his Hebrew name, and welcomed him back to his ancestral people.

All of us felt that this was a sacred moment. Here was a Jew returning to his Jewishness, after generations of his ancestors had been forced to live outside of Judaism; after generations of humiliations and tortures and indignities. Here was a Jew coming home, proudly, defiantly, faithfully. It was as though the voices of all his ancestors were with us at the Mikvah that morning; we could almost feel their presence and hear their words of congratulations.

We could imagine the dismay of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella; we could sense the bitter frustration of the Inquisitors and haters and persecutors. They did not win. They did not crush the Jewish soul or spirit. After 500 years, Miquel Segura was living proof that Judaism has overcome its oppressors, that Judaism cannot be crushed out, that the people of Israel and the God of Israel live.

The ceremony of return for Miquel Segura took place on Hanukkah--a holiday celebrating the power of the Jewish spirit, when God gave victory to the few over the many. It was also Rosh Hodesh, the beginning of a new month. Rosh Hodesh symbolizes renewal and hope.

Miquel Sequra still has a long road in front of him to win full acceptance as a Jew within the Jewish community at large. He still has much work to do to bring his fellow Chuetas back to Judaism and the Jewish people. But Hanukkah is a celebration of a miracle and Rosh Hodesh is a reminder of renewal...and the day will come, speedily and soon, when all the lost Jews of the world will find their way back to the God of Israel, the Torah of Israel, the people of Israel, the land of Israel.

Our heritage is rich and vast and we claim that we teach it. But do we truly understand the wholeness of the Jewish people, or is our knowledge really limited and fragmented? Do we, can we, inculcate the concept of Jewish unity in our students?  If we as educators are unaware of or disinterested in Jews who have had different historic experiences than we have had, how can we convey the richness of Judaism? How can we, in fact, demonstrate the sheer wonder of halakhic Jewry without a sense of awe at the halakhic contributions of all our diverse communities throughout the world, thoughout the ages?

We may study the Talmud of Babylonia and Israel; the codes of sages in Spain; the commentaries of scholars of France, Germany, Italy; the responsa of rabbis of Turkey, the Middle East and North Africa; the novellae of sages of Eastern Europe; the traditions and customs of Jewish communities throughout the world.  We study this diverse and rich literature and confront the phenomenon that all these Jewish sages and their communities operated with the identical assumptions--that God gave the Torah to the people of Israel, that halakha is our way of following God's ways. As we contemplate the vast scope of the halakhic enterprise--and its essential unity--we begin to sense the wholeness of the Jewish people.

If, for example, we were to study only the contributions and history of the Jews of America, we would have a narrow view of Judaism.  If we limited our Jewish sources only to a particular century or to a particular geographic location, we would be parochial. We would be experts in a segment of Jewish experience; but we would be ignorant of everything outside our narrow focus.

In order to teach the wholeness of the Jewish people, we need to have a broad knowledge and vision of the Jewish people. We cannot limit ourselves to sources only from Europe, just as we cannot limit ourselves to sources only from Asia or Africa.  Often enough, however, Jewish education today fails to include in a serious way the Jewish experiences in Asia and Africa. How many educators can name ten great Jewish personalities who lived in Turkey, Morocco or Syria during the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries? How many have studied any works of authors who lived in Muslim lands over the past four to five centuries? And how many have taught this information to their students? And have they learned?

There is a vital need to teach "whole-istic" Judaism, drawing on the great teachings of our people in all the lands and periods of their dispersion. To do this, we ourselves need to study, to think very seriously, to feel genuine excitement in gathering the exiles of our people into our minds and consciousnesses.  When we are engaged in this process, we can help our students share the excitement with us.  Jews who are "not like us," whose families came from countries other than "ours", should not be viewed as being exotic or quaint. There is more to a Jewish community than a set of interesting customs or folkways.  We need to be able to speak of the Jews of Vilna and of Istanbul and of Berlin and of Tangiers with the same degree of naturalness, with no change in the inflection of our voices.  We need to see Jews of all these--and all the other--communities as though they are part of "our" community.

Consider the standard Mikraot Gedolot, a common edition of the Bible. There are commenaries by Rashi (France); Ibn Ezra and Ramban (Spain); R. Hayyim ben Attar, the Ohr haHayyim (Morocco); R. Ovadia Seforno (Italy), and many others. The commentaries of the Talmud, Rambam, Shulhan Arukh are also a diverse group, stemming from different places and times. It is important for teachers to make their students aware of the backgrounds of the various commentators. In this relatively simple way, students are introduced to the vastness of the Torah enterprise, and of the value of all communities which have engaged in maintaining the Torah. To quote Sephardic sages together with Ashkenazic sages, naturally and easily, is to achieve an important goal in the teaching of wholeness of the Jewish people.

Most teachers teach what they themselves have learned. They tend to draw heavily on the sources which their teachers valued. It is difficult and challenging to try to reach out into new sources, to gain knowledge and inspiration from Jewish communities which one originally had not considered to be one's own.

The majority of Jews living in Israel are of African and Asian backgrounds. Students who gain no knowledge of the history and culture of the Jews of Africa and Asia are being seriously deprived. They will be unable to grasp the cultural context of the majority of Jews in Israel, or they will trivialize it or think it exotic. But if Jews are to be a whole people, then all Jews need to understand, in a deep and serious way, about other Jews. This is not for "enrichment" programs or for special "Sephardic days"; this is basic Jewish teaching, basic Jewish learning.

I am saddened by the general narrowness I have seen in some schools. There is a reluctance to grasp the need for wholeness on a serious level. Time is too short. Teachers don't want more responsibilities. But Judaism goes far beyond the sources of Europe and America. Giving lip service to the beauty of Sephardic culture; or singing a Yemenite tune with the school choir; or explaining a custom now and then--these don't represent a genuine openness, a positive education.

Standard textbooks don't teach much about the Jews of Africa and Asia, their vast cultural and spiritual achievements, their contributions to Jewish life and to Torah scholarship. Schools often do not make the effort to incorporate serious study of these topics, and so our children grow up with a fragmented Jewish education.

To raise awareness and sensitivity, teachers should utilize the resources within the community--including students, community members and synagogues representing diverse backgrounds, customs and history that can enlighten students. Spending Shabbat with diverse communities, within the United States as well as when visiting Israel, can be a moving way of sharing cultures and customs.

To attain wholeness in Jewish education entails considerable work on the part of administrators, teachers and students. It may cost time and money. But can we really afford to continue to deprive our children and our people of wholeness?

cytotec
cytotec

(This article is reprinted from Hadassah Magazine, November 2008.)

Great news.
Many thousands of people in Israel want to convert to Judaism. Most are from the former Soviet Union and have Jewish ancestry or spouses. Many others, of various national and religious backgrounds, have come to Israel to study Judaism and to become Jewish.

Thousands of people throughout the diaspora want to become Jews. They are attracted to the teachings of Torah; or they’ve discovered Jewish roots; or they want to marry a Jewish spouse. Judaism has a profound message for people of all backgrounds. The Jewish people, with all its problems, is attractive. The fact that so many wish to become Jewish should be a source of tremendous pride and happiness to Jews.

Troubling news.

Not everyone is eager to help these would-be converts enter the Jewish fold. Instead of offering a compassionate and inclusive approach, the Israeli Chief Rabbinate has erected ever higher barriers to discourage conversion to Judaism. Diaspora rabbinic groups have essentially fallen into line behind the Chief Rabbinate’s stringent positions, fearing that their own rabbinic status will be undermined if they do not conform to the Chief Rabbinate’s dictates.

In May 2008, the Israeli Rabbinic High Court under the leadership of Rabbi Abraham Sherman issued a horrifying decision that actually rescinds the conversion of a woman who had converted (under Orthodox auspices) fifteen years ago. Since the Court felt the woman was not religiously observant enough, it declared her and her children—born after her conversion-- to be non-Jewish. The Chief Rabbinate and the Rabbinic High Court have equated conversion with total acceptance to observe all the mitzvoth; those who are deficient in religious observance are either not accepted in the first place, or now run the risk of having their conversions invalidated retroactively. Thousands of individuals have been thrown into spiritual turmoil, wondering about their Jewish identities and the Jewish identities of their children.

This is precisely the time for a visionary Orthodox rabbinic leadership to win the respect and admiration of the Jewish public by providing inspired, meaningful leadership. Yet, the Orthodox rabbinic establishment in Israel and the diaspora has chosen the path of retreat, restriction, and exclusion. Their policies have alienated thousands of potential converts, as well as thousands of born Jews who find these rabbinic attitudes reprehensible, narrow-minded and xenophobic.

Great news.

The classic sources in halakha—the Talmud, Maimonides, the Shulhan Aruh—are actually far more “liberal” than the contemporary Orthodox rabbinic bureaucracy. The Talmud (Yevamot 47a-b) records the procedure to be followed in accepting converts: we tell them of the dangers inherent in being a member of a persecuted community. If they are willing to accept these risks, we offer instruction “in some of the minor and some of the major commandments”. We are not to persuade or dissuade too much. The Shulhan Arukh (Yoreh Deah 268:2), drawing on Maimonides’ formulation in the Mishneh Torah (Issurei Biah 14:2), rules that we must also explain to the would-be convert the basic beliefs of Judaism. The procedure for conversion is sensible and straightforward.

The classic codes of Jewish law leave considerable latitude when it comes to informing converts of the mitzvoth. Converts are expected to give a general acceptance to observe mitzvoth—but there is no indication that they first must study Judaism for years nor that they must answer very specific questions relating to the observance of all mitzvoth--requirements that now have become standard within the Orthodox rabbinic establishment. Some of my Orthodox colleagues have retorted: we don’t need to rely on those texts, since we follow the opinions of the great sages (invariably of the hareidi ilk) of our generation. Or, they have disingenuously argued that the Talmud, Rambam and Shulhan Arukh didn’t need to specify the requirement for converts to accept all mitzvoth in detail, since they took it for granted that converts would be required to observe every law of Shabbat, kashruth, mikvah etc. In other words, these rabbis ignore, or read their own views into, the classic sources of halakha, seriously changing the meaning of what conversion has meant historically.

The notion that conversion entails 100% commitment to observe all mitzvoth seems to have first emerged in the late 19th century among Eastern European rabbis. According to Dr. Zvi Zohar and Dr. Avi Sagi, Israeli scholars who have thoroughly researched the conversion issue in halakhic literature, Rabbi Yitzchak Shmelkes (Beit Yitzchak 2:100) introduced this idea in 1876. (See their book, “Transforming Identity”, Continuum, New York, 2007.) This was a reaction to the growing number of Jews who were defecting from mitzvah observance. Rabbi Shmelkes and others apparently believed that by equating Judaism with mitzvah observance, they were defending the Torah from its spiritual enemies. This equation, though an understandable strategy, was of course not literally true. Even the most extreme right-wing rabbis admitted that a born Jew is Jewish, even if he/she repudiates Judaism and violates every law in the Torah. But when it came to accepting converts, they upheld the most rigorous policy—a policy not dictated by classical halakha, but by their own reading of the circumstances of their times.

We are living in different times. We are not in 19th century Eastern Europe. We have the right to revisit the classic halakhic sources, and apply them honestly, compassionately and intelligently to our new circumstances. The rabbinate in Israel exists within a vibrant, modern Jewish sovereign State. If rabbis in the shtetls dealt with conversions stringently in light of their historical circumstances, the Rabbinate in Israel must recognize a broader responsibility; it must have the vision to create national policies that will serve the needs and interests of the Jewish State and the Jewish people at large. Instead of locking itself into the most extreme and narrow positions of halakha, it needs to draw on the broad wellsprings of Jewish legal and ethical traditions, demonstrating the halakha’s ability to address contemporary issues in a spiritually, morally and intellectually sound manner. The rabbis of the diaspora must not fall into the trap of creating their own rabbinic bureaucracies; rather they must also have the vision and sense of responsibility to help converts enter the Jewish fold in a proper, non-intimidating manner.

As an Orthodox rabbi myself, I believe that those who wish to enter the Jewish fold should do so in a halakhically valid manner. The halakha provides a meaningful and accessible way for non-Jews to become Jewish. Instead of erecting higher barriers to discourage conversion, the Orthodox rabbinate should be expanding opportunities for those who sincerely wish to become full members of the Jewish people.

The great Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel, Rabbi Benzion Uziel (1880-1953) argued for an inclusive approach to conversion. In one of his responsa, he urged rabbis to perform conversions, even under less than ideal circumstances, in order to maintain Jewish families and keep children in the Jewish fold. Those rabbis who adopted restrictive policies were doing a tremendous disservice to the would-be converts, to their families, and to the Jewish people. Rabbi Uziel wrote: “And I fear that if we push them [the children] away completely by not accepting their parents for conversion, we shall be brought to judgment, and they shall say to us: ‘You did not bring back those who were driven away, and those who were lost you did not seek’ (Ezekiel 34:4).” Rabbi Uziel was not alone among modern sages who allowed conversions even in non-ideal situations. (See Professor Shmuel Shilo’s article in the Israel Law Review, 22:3, 1988, where he discusses the lenient views of various halakhic authorities including Rabbis Benzion Uziel, Shlomo Kluger, David Zvi Hoffman, Haim Ozer Grodzinski, Yehiel Weinberg and Ovadia Yosef.)

Important news.

Rabbi Avi Weiss of the Hebrew Institute of Riverdale and President of Yeshivat Chovevei Torah has joined me in founding the International Rabbinic Fellowship to bring together like-minded Orthodox rabbis who will promote an intellectually vibrant, compassionate and inclusive Orthodoxy—an Orthodoxy that will address the issues of our time in an open, non-authoritarian, and halakhically proper manner. We have been working with Rabbi Shlomo Riskin, Chief Rabbi of Efrat, and other rabbis here and in Israel to establish a beth din for the International Rabbinic Fellowship—with offices in New York and Jerusalem-- that will deal with conversion, agunah questions and other serious problems. We are heartened by the many Orthodox rabbis (the IRF already has about 150 members and is growing day by day) who have joined with us in this historic effort to create an engaged and engaging Orthodoxy that can provide leadership for the entire Jewish people. We are grateful to lay leadership for their financial and moral support.

Every one of us, Orthodox or not, can play a role in creating a better future for converts and for the entire Jewish people. We can support those individuals and groups within Orthodoxy that are working to change the rabbinic status quo. We can voice our opinion to policy makers here and in Israel. We can work in our own communities to foster a positive, inclusive approach to converts and their children. We can remind ourselves that we will one day be standing before the Almighty and will have to explain what we did—or did not do—to address one of the most dramatic challenges of our time. Let us be very sure that we can honestly say that we did seek to bring back those who were driven away, and that we did seek those who might otherwise have been lost.

The Chief Rabbinate of Israel has taken a restrictive, hareidi view on conversions to Judaism. They have imposed "standards" that are unrealistic for many would-be converts, and which are not required by the halakha itself. The Rabbinical Council of America has essentially capitulated to the Chief Rabbinate, and is now in the process of establishing regional courts in the U.S. and Canada that will adhere to the extremist opinions relating to conversions. Orthodox rabbis, members in good standing of the RCA, who perform conversions outside the RCA system will not have their conversions endorsed by the RCA. Thus, in order to be "accepted" by the Chief Rabbinate in Israel, American converts will now be faced with an increasingly rigid rabbinic bureaucracy.

Some RCA leaders have said that the RCA did not capitulate to the Chief Rabbinate, but rather developed the new system independently. This is puzzling, since the RCA only began this "independent" process after the Chief Rabbinate announced it would no longer accept conversions performed by RCA members; after the RCA had ongoing meetings and consultations with the Chief Rabbinate to see what the RCA could do in order to stay in the good graces of the Chief Rabbinate; after the RCA feted Chief Rabbi Amar in New York and Chicago; after the RCA made a large media campaign proudly announcing the agreement it had made with the Chief Rabbinate. Can this really be described as an independent RCA process? In fact, all along the members of the RCA committee knew they would need to come up with a system that would be approved by the Chief Rabbinate in Israel. Whether or not the Chief Rabbis sat on the RCA's committee, they certainly influenced in a powerful way the results of the RCA's committee. Indeed, the committee's obvious mandate was to win the approval of the Chief Rabbinate for the RCA's plans.

In my view, the proper position of the RCA should have been to defend the honor and integrity of its members. It should not have allowed the Chief Rabbinate to dominate our policies and standards, but should have insisted that the Chief Rabbinate continue to recognize RCA conversions as it has done for a great many years.

My views on the topic of conversion are well known. I have written a book, Choosing to Be Jewish: The Orthodox Road to Conversion (available from the online store on this website), pointing out the diversity of legitimate views within halakha, and arguing that the Orthodox rabbinate and community should be fostering a far more compassionate and inclusive policy. Please see my article "Slamming the Door on Converts" in the Min haMuvhar section of this website; please also see the Responsa section on this website for Prof. Zvi Zohar's article, as well as the piece on Rabbi Uziel's wonderful responsa on the topic. Likewise, please see Rabbi Isaac Sassoon's essay in the Articles section of our website.

Why am I so upset--and why should all thinking Jews be so upset--about the current developments? Here are a few reasons.

1. Halakha provides an array of legitimate views in the area of conversion to Judaism. Indeed, the Talmud, Rambam and Shulhan Arukh are considerably more "liberal" in this area than are the current leadership of the Chief Rabbinate in Israel and the RCA in America. The attempt to create "unified standards" is simply a code phrase that means: the most stringent standards. All other views are dismissed and discredited. This is a crass violation of the halakhic process--that passes itself off as being in the category of "raising standards". It narrows halakha and robs it of its dynamism and grandness of scope. It allows a small group of rabbis to arrogate authority to themselves, at the expense of all those who differ with them.

2. Many people will suffer due to these rabbinic bureaucratic decisions. Over the past years, I have received calls, letters and emails from literally hundreds of desparate individuals seeking Orthodox conversions--but who have been turned away or treated callously by the Orthodox rabbis they approached. As bad as the situation has been, it will now sink to even worse levels. Rabbis who have been inclined to work with potential converts are now told that they either must cede their authority to the rulings of the RCA, or be effectively disenfranchised. Thus, there will be even fewer Orthodox rabbis to whom would-be converts can turn; and even these rabbis will have their hands tied by the dictates of the RCA's policies which grant very little individual discretion to the rabbis.

Another problem relates to the Jewish status of those who have been converted by RCA rabbis in the past. Some leaders of the RCA have stated that past converts should not worry, and that it is "patently untrue" that past conversions will be subject to review. Yet, the RCA (to the best of my knowledge) has never stated clearly and unequivocally that all past conversions performed by RCA members will be accepted as valid; nor has the Chief Rabbinate in Israel made such an assertion. Rather, statements of RCA leaders have been quite cautious--to the effect that conversions that were "previously deemed acceptable" will continue to be accepted. The question is: "previously deemed acceptable" to whom? Piecing together various statements of RCA leaders, it would seem that only those converts will be deemed acceptable who have been converted according to the current guidelines and standards of the RCA. If someone converted years ago, and has not been fully Orthodox in religious observance, it doesn't seem likely that the current RCA system or the Chief Rabbinate will deem these conversions acceptable--even though they have fulfilled the requirements of halakha according to the Talmud, Rambam, Shulhan Arukh and many great rabbinic decisors. In fact, the new system seems to promote the view that the burden of proof is on the convert to establish his/her status as a Jew.

Until this new policy came into effect, the usual procedure was for Orthodox rabbis to accept the conversions of other Orthodox rabbis (except in a few cases of rabbis who blatantly disregarded even minimal standards for conversion). When Orthodox converts went to Israel, the rabbanut there generally approved of their Jewish status; when they had questions, they would/could call the RCA office (or Orthodox rabbis whom they knew) for further clarification. This system was based on general trust and mutual respect. Although not perfect, it functioned well and served the needs of many converts and their families. Now, the new system works on the principle of mistrust and disrespect; it does not assume conversions were done properly or that rabbis have the knowledge and integrity to do conversions according to halakha. The new system will endorse only those rabbis who will follow its rules and are willing to give up their rabbinic autonomy.

3. The new policies have built in delay mechanisms so that it will be difficult, if not impossible, for a candidate to be converted in less than two years. In the case of women candidates, this can diminish the number of children they might have; if the women are around 40 years old, it may deprive them of having children at all. Is this fair to these women? Is it fair to the Jewish people? Is it morally acceptable to create unnecessary obstacles to conversion, to prevent Jewish children from being born, to hinder the possibility of couples and families to function within the (Orthodox) Jewish community?

4. The Chief Rabbis and the RCA say that conversions done outside their authority will not be "accepted". I had always thought--and continue to think--that the important thing is for conversions to be performed according to halakha and to be "accepted" by the Almighty! If individuals are converted according to halakha, then the Chief Rabbinate and the RCA have no right whatsoever not to "accept" such conversions. On the contrary, to deny or cast doubt on halakhic conversions is a sin of the first magnitude. Rabbinic tradition teaches that oppressing a convert is a violation of 36 (and some say 46) commandments! If the Chief Rabbis or the RCA do not endorse conversions done by Orthodox rabbis who follow halakhic procedures, then the Chief Rabbis and the RCA will have much to answer for when they have to explain themselves to the Almighty.

5. The rabbinic bureaucracy in Israel is notoriously unpopular and increasingly out of touch with the needs of the general population. A great many innocent people suffer due to the deficiencies in the rabbanut's system of operation. With the RCA's agreement with the Chief Rabbinate, the problems of rabbinic bureaucracy will be imported to North America as well. Many wonderful potential converts will suffer; others will turn to non-Orthodox rabbis; yet others may decide not to convert altogether. It is indeed time to "raise standards" for conversion: the standards of love and compassion, inclusiveness and respect, the love of God and the love of Israel. It is time to focus on the commandment to love the proselyte, and to help those sincere souls who wish to enter the fold of Israel.

6. If you share our views on this matter, please let your voices be heard by your rabbis and communal leaders. Rabbis and laymen alike must stand together in resisting the tide of extremism and authoritarianism. If not us, who? If not now, when?

Question: Does Jewish Law impose a responsibility to prevent criminal action? Does Halakha sanction reporting Jewish criminals to secular authorities? May an Orthodox Jew prosecute Jewish criminals?

Response: The Rambam rules, "whoever is able to save another and does not endeavor to do so, violates [the prohibition of the biblical verse which states] Lo Ta'amod (do not stand idly) over the blood of your neighbor" (Leviticus 19:16); therefore, one who witnesses his friend drowning in the sea or brigands attacking him and he [the witness] has the ability to save him, or he heard that people seek harm to him...and he does not contact his friend to reveal this, he is in violation of the biblical prohibition of "do not stand idly over the blood of your neighbor" (Maimonides, Hilkhot Rotseah, 1:14, also, Shulhan Arukh, Hoshen Mishpat 426:1). This obligation to prevent crime is not limited to life-threatening situations or even to acts of physical violence, but applies as well to pecuniary matters.

Indeed, the rabbis rule that it is even morally incumbent upon one to rectify an erroneous legal decision. This is noted in Shevuot 31a where it states: "How do we know that a disciple sitting before his master, who sees that the poor man is right and the wealthy man wrong, should not remain silent? Because it is said: ‘From a false matter keep far'" (Exodus 23:7). This case teaches us that silence itself may be a form of falsehood. In a circumstance where silence would result in an erroneous legal decision, it is obligatory to speak out and rectify the wrong. Even though a case is being judged by a master rather than a disciple, and normally it would be considered audacious to contradict one's teacher, still the biblical injunction requires one to reveal the truth. Personal qualms about ruffling the dignity of the master by contradicting his sagacity or ruling have no bearing on the issue.

Yet, not all efforts to report or prevent a crime are lauded. Indeed, there is a fascinating citation relating to this concept in Pesahim 113b. The Talmud reports that a man named Tuvia sinned. He committed adultery. A man called Zigud was aware of this sin and by himself, without another witness, he came to Bet Din, the rabbinical court, to testify against Tuvia proclaiming that Tuvia was an adulterer. Rav Papa, the senior Rav of the Bet Din, punished Zigud for testifying. Zigud was appalled. He called out in protest, "Tuvia sinned and Zigud is punished?" In other words, the Bet Din did not punish Tuvia for the alleged sin of adultery, so why was Zigud punished? The Talmud notes that Zigud was punished for he was guilty of the crime of lashon hara (tale bearing or being slanderous about another).

In Jewish law, testimony relating to adultery require a minimum of two qualified witnesses. Thus, Zigud should have known that he had no standing in court by himself without a second witness and that the Bet din would not act upon his testimony; yet he persisted in testifying. Zigud, therefore, was in effect merely spreading gossip about Tuvia. The fact that the allegation may have been true was of no concern. Zigud was punished for informing others of slanderous material. He should have kept knowledge of the immoral act to himself.

Of major concern is the concept of mesira (the prohibition against one Jew informing the secular courts and/or police of the crime of another Jew). Jewish law deems the act of informing against Jews to Gentiles to be such a negative, reprehensible crime, that the codes overtly note that anyone who violates this prohibition "loses his share in the world to come" (Shulhan Arukh, Hoshen Mishpat 388:9). The need for the codes to detail the religious punishment for this crime emphasizes the moral communal repulsion. This concept places major obstacles on the previously articulated mandate to avert crime. Based upon the strictures of the mesira prohibition, a Jew should be withheld from testifying against another Jew in a secular court. Indeed, it would appear that one may even be prohibited to provide evidence of a Jewish person's crime to the secular authorities. Also at issue is whether the mesira rule may be used by Jewish criminals to intimidate witnesses against them. This means that a potential witness may possibly be told that should he testify against another Jew, the entire Jewish community will ostracize him for he will be classified as an informer.

The Rama rules that a person being physically abused by another may inform the secular government about the attacker (Hoshen Mishpat 388:7). The halakhic commentator, the Shakh, notes that the laws of mesira simply do not apply when a victim seeks to extricate himself from an abusive situation (388:45). One may not inform about a Jew to punish him for acts of the past. However, to cease abuse, it is permissible.

Based upon this decision of the Shakh, the Tzitz Eliezer (vol. 19:52), ruled that one certainly may inform the government in cases of child abuse. Thus, even without life-threatening conditions, it is deemed meritorious to report a parent who may be abusing his child. The Tzitz Eliezer cites two additional sources to support his ruling.

Firstly, the Arukh HaShulhan (Hoshen Mishpat) 388:7) comments that the original laws of mesira related to such governments where the rule of law was not operational. Accordingly, the concept of mesira was set up to protect Jews from inequitable governments. It was not applicable, he contends, to a government like Great Britain. Based on this theory, one may report cases of abused children because the law of mesira is not in effect in a democratic society ruled by an equitable set of laws.

The second supportive case cited by the Tzitz Eliezer also has contemporary ramifications. The Mabit in a responsum gives the impression that a Jewish court, a Bet Din, may refer a case to the secular courts in the event that they lack the authority or power to enforce a decision. For example, he deals with a case where Bet Din actually referred a problem to the secular government for enforcement (part 1:Siman 22). Thus, in child abuse situations, if Bet Din is made aware of a situation that cannot be properly handled by the rabbinical court, the rabbis would grant permission to seek out the protection of the secular courts and the police. The practical implication of this concept is the recommendation to consult a rabbinical Bet Din as to the propriety of reporting a crime or testifying against another Jew in the secular court system. Once Bet Din permits the utilization of the police or the secular courts, the individual reporting a crime should have no qualms about his actions. In this situation, the odious reputation applied to a person who informs upon another Jew to the secular police or courts would not apply.

In addition, the Shulhan Arukh rules that to prevent a public crime, or a number of individuals from becoming victims of a crime, it is also permissible to seek out the protection of the secular government (388:12). Thus, to put a stop to abuse or to prevent a crime that would be committed against a large number of people, the laws of mesira would not be operational.

This indicates that, unless one held the position of the Arukh HaShulhan, that the concept of mesira was not applicable in democratic societies, there does not appear to be any halakhic permission to report to the police and the secular government a crime that already took place, even if the crime has impacted negatively a number of people.

Though halakhah, as noted, does specify conditions in which it is permissible to report criminal action to secular authorities, clarification is yet necessary to determine the general halakhic guidelines for reporting Jewish criminals; also whether an Orthodox Jew is permitted to serve as a prosecutor. Perhaps a Jew should not be the person representing the secular, non-Jewish legal system. Indeed, Rav Moshe Feinstein rules that it is wrong to turn in to the police a thief who robbed a Sefer Torah. He argues that a prison sentence is generally accepted as punishment by the American courts for robbery. This punishment of imprisonment for robbery is not noted in Jewish legal sources. As such, the secular governmental court system will give the criminal a greater punishment than that ordained by Jewish law. This, he ruled, cannot be permitted by halakha. The source for this is the talmudic citation (Moed Katan 17a) that relates a case where Raish Lakish was in charge of guarding a garden of fig trees. A person without permission ate a number of figs. This person even disregarded all warnings to desist. Raish Lakish, therefore, placed this man in excommunication. The person complained that Raish Lakish was unfair in his treatment of the crime. His argument was that his sin generated a financial loss to the owner that he was willing to repay. At no time, contended this man, did he deserve the punishment of excommunication. Raish Lakish sought the counsel of the sages and was told that the excommunication he rendered was excessive and, therefore, invalid. Based upon this citation, Rav Moshe rules that turning a thief over to the police would generate a punishment in excess of that which Jewish law would set up and, therefore, was not permissible (Iggrot Moshe, vol. VIII: Orakh Hayyim part 5: Siman 9:11). This ruling would prevent a prosecutor from seeking any punishment beyond that outlined by Jewish law.

This decision of Rav Moshe appears to be challenged by a number of sources. First, the previously mentioned responsum of the Mabit deals with a case in which the Bet Din referred a Jew to the secular government who placed the Jew in jail. The general rule derived from this situation is that when the Jewish court system cannot handle a problem case, it may be turned over to the secular government for enforcement, even though a punishment may be exacted that is more arduous or excessive than Jewish law would establish. Raish Lakish's case may simply have been one in which his reaction was deemed excessive. Perhaps, though, in cases where Jewish enforcement is not practical, governmental action may be the only recourse.

The Talmud in Bava Metzia (83b-84a) clearly portrays Jews turning in Jewish criminals to a Gentile power who punished such offenders above and beyond the standards or Jewish law.

Rabbi Eliezer ben Rabbi Shimon met a Jewish policeman and queried him concerning his job: "Perhaps you take the innocent and leave behind the guilty?" The response was that he had no choice but to detect and report criminals contending, "It is the king's command." Rabbi Eliezer then gave him sound advice to help him detect criminals. When the government heard of this incident, Rabbi Eliezer himself was given the job of turning criminals over to the authorities and he performed his task with success. This disturbed other rabbis. In fact, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Korhah sent a message to him saying, "Vinegar, son of wine, how long will you deliver the people of our G-d for slaughter?" Rabbi Yehoshua disparaged Rabbi Eliezer. "Your father was like wine, you are vinegar. Vinegar is wine that is spoiled. Rabbi Eliezer, the traits of your holy father did not pass on to his son. You are guilty of informing on Jews and you should cease and desist." Rabbi Eliezer responded, "I am not turning over good or innocent people. They are offenders who should be punished." In response, Rabbi Yehoshua claimed, "Let the owner of the vineyard eliminate the thorns." In other words, it is not for you to do. Let others do it." There is no indication that Rabbi Eliezer changed his position or view. The Talmud further states that a similar situation happened to Rabbi Yishmael ben Rabbi Yosi. Eliyahu the prophet rebuked him for turning in Jewish criminals to governmental authorities. Rabbi Yishmael responded that he had no choice for "it is the royal command." Eliyahu directed him to flee to another area where he would not be commanded to turn in Jewish criminals.

Thus, an ancient debate about this issue exists. Of importance is that the Bet Yosef, in his commentary on the Tur Shulhan Arukh, discusses this Talmudic citation. He notes that secular law does not follow concepts of Jewish law. Secular law will punish offenders based upon the testimony of relatives, a situation not accepted by halakha. Such punishment will be ordained even without proper warning as stipulated by Jewish law. Yet, the laws of secular governments are necessary. Otherwise, society will be overcome by people who do not tell the truth. (The implication is the fact that the rabbis cannot enforce ethical or moral behavior.) The Talmud, indeed, relates that great rabbis detected and turned in criminals to secular authorities. Though they were rebuked by Rabbi Yehoshua and Eliyahu the prophet, it should not be viewed that such rabbis were fundamentally in error about the permissibility of their actions. It was, rather, due to the great piety of such rabbis that they should have personally refrained from being the ones who helped Jews to be punished. In other words, people known for great sanctity and piety should not be involved in any way with the punishment of Jews. As a son of a noted pious rabbi, Rabbi Eliezer was called "son of wine." He, too, should conduct himself with the highest level of piety. Under no circumstances were Rabbi Eliezer or Rabbi Yishmael in violation of Jewish law. Indeed, in the event that such rabbis violated Jewish law, this violation should have been explicitly noted. Also, Rabbi Yishmael tells Eliyahu that he had a job to do. If the process was wrong, if they were in violation of halakha, then having a job to perform from the government would not be an excuse. Eliyahu should have responded by saying, "Who said your blood is redder than anothers?" (Pesachim 25b) That statement is utilized to prevent a person from killing another to save his own life. It should have been directed against Rabbi Yishmael. If Rabbi Yishmael was implying that he was in a life-threatening situation should he refuse to do the bidding of the king to apprehend criminals, then Jewish law would have ruled that one may not save one's life by killing another. The fact that the rabbis were not simply informed that their course of action was in violation of Jewish law teaches that there is nothing wrong with serving in a professional capacity to help the government eliminate criminals (Bet Yosef, citing the Responsum of the Rashba, Hoshen Mishpat 388)
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What is surprising is that Rav Moshe cites this Bet Yosef in the previously noted responsum. He remarks that the case of Rabbi Yishmael does not contradict his ruling that one may not hand over a criminal to the police in a situation where the punishment will be greater than by Jewish authorities, for a person appointed by the government is in a different category. In other words, Rav Moshe admits that the Bava Metzia case deals with punishments more onerous than by Jewish law. The actions were deemed permissible solely because the rabbis were agents of the authorities. Yet the rationale that one is an agent of the secular authorities relates only to Rabbi Yishmael. Rabbi Eliezar does not utilize this excuse. He felt that he was providing a proper, moral course of action by eliminating criminals from society. What was his rationale? How did he harmonize his position with the laws of mesira? Though this case, together with the Bet Yosef's analysis, seems to allow a prosecutor to continue in his profession, it is not clear as to why his role pragmatically does away with the entire concept of mesira. If an action is a violation of Jewish law, then it should be morally wrong to be involved in such action whether or not one had a job to perform.

I suggest that there is a concept of Judaism that is so important and so vital that it alters the very nature of the concept of mesira itself. The Rambam rules that the worst sin of the Jew is the crime of hilul hashem (the profanation of the holy name of G-d). As such, should this sin take place, atonement is not granted until the sinner repents, prays on Yom Kippur for forgiveness, is afflicted with pain, and finally dies. Death is the final atonement. (Hilkhot Teshuva 1:4). It would appear that a vital goal of the Jew is to prevent the public shame or embarrassment of the holy name of G-d. In a country known for its commitment to the rule of law, it is a form of public shame for a member of the Jewish community to violate the laws of the land. A Jewish criminal is a shame to the Jewish religion. A religious Jewish criminal is a form of hilul hashem, Judaism is an ethical, ritual code of law. Jewish criminals make a mockery of our ethical standards. They send the message to the general society that Jews care not for the rule of law. The more visibly Jewish the offender, the more it generates a degree of hilul hashem. This, I believe, was Rabbi Eliezer's rationale for detecting and turning in Jewish criminals. He was eliminating thorns. He felt that his role was the most pious and sacred function of a rabbi. He was keeping the reputation of the Jewish community high and dignified in the eyes of the world. His symbolic message was that Jews are moral. Jewish criminals would not be tolerated by the leaders of the Jewish community. Accordingly, to uproot criminals may be viewed from this perspective as a sacred profession. Even those who disagreed did not believe that reporting criminals to authorities was a violation of Jewish law. Their position was one of sensitivity. They felt that sages should not be personally responsible for the punishment of Jews.

Thus, a person may utilize the principle of preventing hilul hashem as an understandable rationale for informing the government about another Jew. Just as it is permitted, as a means of preventing damage to the Jewish community, to turn over to the police someone who is attempting to bring about a public crime or perform criminal acts to many people, so, too, should it be permitted to forestall a public shame or embarrassment to the Jewish community at large. It could be designated as "religious damage control."

Indeed, there is a precedent for the utilization of such a concept. It is known that in cases dealing with an attempt to extract funds from another, Jewish law requires the presence of two witnesses, while secular law relies upon the testimony of a single witness. In the event that a Jew, by himself without any other witness, has testimony regarding extracting funds from another Jew for the benefit of a Gentile, Jewish law would not deem it proper to testify against the Jew in a secular court. The reason is that the testimony of a single witness would cause a Jew to lose funds via a procedure not acceptable by Jewish law. Should, however, the Gentile have relied upon the Jew to testify, then, even though funds would be extracted through a procedure not recognized by Jewish law, the Jew would be required to testify because his silence would be a form of hilul hashem (Rosh, Bava Kama, ch. 10, Siman 14, Shulhan Arukh Hoshen Mishpat 28:3). Thus, the sin of hilul hashem overrides the injunction against testifying.

It may be opined that the above obligation to report and/or prosecute even observant Jewish criminals to obviate charges of Hilul HaShem may relate to crimes that are well known. In a case where the crimes are not publicly known, perhaps the concept of Mesira should outweigh other concerns and silence should be the preferred mode of reaction.

This position may not be defended. Chaucer once wrote, "truth will out". Sooner or later crimes become public. In the event such does occur and it becomes known that religious Jews were aware of the criminal action but refused to report the crime to authorities, the Jews who practiced silence will definitely generate a public desecration of G-d's Holy Name. It would be said that Jews tolerate Jewish criminal activity. The key to any action or silence of a Jew is whether an action or inaction brings glory to our religion or shame. As stated, in the beginning of this article, silence in the face of injustice is deemed sinful.(Shevuot 31a) A silence that may question the Jewish community's commitment to law is surely a Hilul HaShem. Jews should opt for potential sanctification of G-d's name and not condone practices that could lead to a possible desecration of our religion.

The above analysis manifests that reporting Jewish violators of law is not necessarily a violation of Jewish Law, but, rather, a means of openly demonstrating that Orthodox Jewry will not tolerate criminal action. As such, it is a form of Kiddush HaShem, sanctifying G-d's name and accordingly permitted and even to be extolled.

God sent the fiery serpents against the people and they bit the people….God said to Moses: “Make yourself a fiery serpent and place it on a pole, and it will be that anyone who was bitten will look at it and live.” Moses made a serpent of copper and placed it on the pole; so that if the serpent bit a man, he would stare at the copper serpent and live. (Bemidbar21:4–10)

Among the essential questions that most religions and cultural traditions attempt to address are how to explain the mystery of our origins, and what gives our life meaning. The word religion is related to the Latin verb “ligare” (to bind or yoke), to connect oneself to the divine and attain wholeness in the process. What tasks must we undertake to fulfill this mandate to attain wholeness and bind ourselves to God, and how do we come to grips with that which bites us?

The Hafetz Hayyim, in his work Ahavat Hessed, suggests that one of the main purposes of Judaism’s laws is to actualize our capacity for hessed(Olam Hessed Yibaneh, Psalm 89:3) and to imitate God’s ways (Devarim, 11:22; Sifrei, Ekev, Piska49: Shabbat133b). We are given free will to achieve our holy task, and guidance through the laws of the Torah, expression of prayer, and the practice of lovingkindness to strengthen our purpose (Aboda Zara17b). We have the innate capacity and the intrinsic intuition to identify what is the Godly thing to do.

We do not always find clarity with the large Mysteries of life, but we are not supposed to in this world according to the Sefat Emet(Vayhi), for this is a world of Emunah(faith that is developed in the face of sporadic absence of clarity) rather than a world of Emet. Olam Ha’emetis the term for the next world; here our growth stems from a movement toward truth, and our contributions to the world are enlarged in this process of struggle (Ramban, Bereishith22:2). Our trial is that we are to achieve this growth, this actualization of the image of God, while at the same time grappling with drives that may also remove us from our mandate.

Those of us seeking to live lives filled with hessedmust face those drives that threaten to remove us from our mandate to live as ethically as possible, and in fact to go even further, to make these drives vehicles through which to discover the Holy. The enticements of the modern world feed the hunger of the evil inclination, especially when our ability to discern meaning is clouded by a lack of learning Torah with depth, and we are given facile answers to challenging questions, answers that do not satisfy the discerning intellect. While the study of Torah in a pre-modern environment, within a community that had common values and goals was sufficient to hold an individual to continue within communal norms, the openness to alternative explanations of reality, the temptations that fulfill the body, and the forces of evil that have overcome perceptions of God’s justice in the universe have led many of our young people to leave the path of Torah. They are sometimes attracted by other spiritual paths that attempt to address their soul’s yearning, and they no longer seek meaning within the Jewish path. Examples of lack of proper ethical behavior by some Jewish leaders have also left them with troubling questions.

There is one very rich psycho-spiritual-ethical movement from our tradition that can be employed as a powerful tool to help promote wholeness and help us to reach our goal of becoming evolved ethical beings, and humans capable of acts of hessed. It has the capacity to address the ethical dilemmas that each of us confronts within our own human struggles, to set out a path where we can improve in the face of trials to ethical behavior, and to attract others who are looking for a means to help them come to grips with their instincts as they begin the spiritual path. Just as in the Torah, where we learn from the story of “The Copper Serpent” (Bemidbar21:4–10), that that which bites you can also heal you if you face it, engage with it, trace it to its root and come to know it, this movement affirms that only by acknowledging the power of the instinct, and identifying its origin and evolution can the journey with the instincts be a means to bring one closer to God.

This movement is Mussar. The Mussar movement arose in the nineteenth century, most centrally influenced by R. Israel Wolf Lipkin, known as Reb Yisrael Salanter (1810–1883), in a period impacted by the Enlightenment and what Reb Yisrael perceived as a lack of spiritual/ethical depth in parts of the Jewish community including the yeshivot. Reb Yisrael derived his central teachings from the Torah, Proverbs (Mishlei), Saadya Gaon’s Emunot V’Deotfrom the tenth century, Ibn Pakuda’s Hovot Halevavotfrom the eleventh Century, and the Ramhal’s Mesilat Yesharimfrom the eighteenth century.

Reb Yisrael was bothered by the phenomenon of Jews being outwardly observant of ritual commandments while at the same time neglecting social and interpersonal commandments. For example, he noticed that fellow Jews were very concerned about discovering a drop of blood in an egg (which would deem it non-kosher), but not as concerned with the blood that rises in the face of someone who has just been hurt by the evil tongue. He wanted one to become aware of inner structure as the judge of a religious act; if one did not become more aware one would end up living a life based on habit, diversion, and conformity. What has often passed for religion is this habituation pattern (making of religion a mere plethora of obsessive details to gain control over anxiety); so- called reason can also be just a rationalization of instincts and fears (for example, the male fear of giving up power and control of the synagogue can lead to the halakhic claim that women are only permitted to take on proscribed roles).

In Reb Yisrael’s eyes, religion had become a hergel,a cultural “habit,” where people came together to join a community which supported a specific lifestyle, but did not sufficiently confront their behavior, inner motivations, and elevate their religious practices as a means toward connecting to God. He tried to understand this phenomenon and came to the conclusion that human beings are more powerfully influenced by deep emotional forces than simple rational motivations. Unless these emotional forces are addressed, they will always undermine our rational proclivities. He called these forces keihah,the dim or dark part of the psyche, as opposed to the less potent meir,bright, clear part of the psyche (Ohr Yisrael, p. 25). The dim part of the psyche could become ruled by the bright part, but only with consistent work, combining intellect and emotion.

According to Reb Yisrael, one must become acquainted with the totality of one’s inner patterns in order to become the very one that one’s destiny calls one to, the ethical, spiritual being that the Torah requires. As Reb Yisrael put it, “The Torah came to create a mensch,” the more human you are, the more Godly you are, the more Jewish you are. But this is possible only when one can gain some insight into the “keihah” as well as the “meir” part of one’s psyche. His ideal was for every human being to be conscious of the “opposites” and thus capable of utilizing every character trait and its opposite (Kol middah v’hipukho, Ohr Yisrael, p. 42), so that he can express the most appropriate response in every situation. One has to be capable of experiencing pride within, in order to recognize the need to honor others and bestow this appropriately upon another, but one must also be capable of humility (perishut) in order not to overly demand recognition from others (p. 42).

As a classically trained rabbi and also a depth psychologist, I have come to realize that this insight is similar to Freud’s notion of the unconscious (dark, inaccessible) and conscious (more accessible) forces that make up our psyche (SE, XXII. 73). Jung also discovered that we are filled with opposites, a veritable complexio oppositorium, and only with this awareness can we reach the greatest consciousness and depth. The goal is not to repress one side of the opposites but to recognize the “opposite” so the repressed drive does not control us. Examining the drive through recognition is the only way to transform its energy to a positive direction, and understand its “root,” its motivating purpose to reduce stress (pleasure principle). In reality the pleasure principle does not reduce stress, but creates additional stress because of future consequences (for example, expressing harsh anger toward another creates an enemy who will spread evil gossip in the future about you). So understanding what Freud called the “reality principle” and what Reb Yisrael called “hokhmat olam” leads to more fruitful behavior. As the Talmud says, “Who is wise? He who can see the consequences of his actions” (Tamid32a).

Reb Yisrael brought the example of Moshe Rabbeinu as one who epitomizes the capacity to experience all the middot, and thus become the most open and empathetic of all human beings. (“ve-haIsh Moshe anav me’od mikol adam,” Bemidbar, 12:3). The Midrash points out that Moshe experienced everything of which one is capable. He is abandoned as a child, yet is raised in the house of the Pharaoh. He lives in an urban environment in Egypt, and in a rural environment in the desert. He goes off on a spiritual journey to find the burning bush, and comes back to share this knowledge with his people. We even find Moshe as a murderer of an Egyptian in the Torah. Yes, Moshe experiences everything, so he can empathize with everyone. He knows the narrow line between self-control and anger, between restraint and impulsivity; and therefore he can probably empathize even with a murderer. Moshe also had an awareness of his inner complexity. The Midrash relates a story that Pharaoh had suspicion that Moshe may be the redeemer of the Hebrew people, since he was very intelligent, and there was a rumor among the Israelites of an impending redemption. So Pharaoh asked his astrologers and phrenologists to do a personality check of Moshe. They came back in a few weeks and said, “No way can it be Moshe. Moshe is by nature gluttonous, depressive, licentious, slothful, etc.” And the rabbis state that this was indeed true, the greatness of Moshe was that he became Moshe in spite of these inner tendencies; and it was the awareness of these tendencies that made him so open and empathetic to others (Shemoth Rabbah, no. 1).

The Mussar methodology as developed by Reb Yisrael focused on the removal of those impediments that inhibit spiritual connection, and helped students and practitioners to face their fears and to move forward with them. The methods employed by the Mussar movement begin with Reb Yisrael’s personal example found in the many stories of his ethical behavior. One such story is as follows: Once his students observed that RebYisrael only used the minimal amount of water to wash his hands (only to his knuckles) before the meal. They asked him about this since it was considered virtuous to use the maximum amount of water (to the wrist). Reb Yisrael replied, “True, but not at the expense of the water carrier having to carry a heavier load of water” (Gottlieb, “R. Yisrael Salanter and Therapeutic Values,” Tradition,Vol. 15).

For practice, he gathered a group (“va’ad”) of students and had them focus on a particular character trait and work on it for several weeks at a time (heshbon haNefesh). They were to engage in introspective meditation (hitbonenut) while focusing on the trait. These traits include humility, patience, gratitude, compassion, order, equanimity, honor, simplicity, enthusiasm, silence, generosity, truth, moderation, loving-kindness, responsibility, trust, faith, fear of Heaven, decisiveness, diligence, and calmness. The students were asked to meet and discuss the trait with their peers, reporting their progress and listening to the feedback of the group members. They were to keep journals in which they were to record at night their encounter with the trait (middah), and in the process they might notice other traits that seemed to emerge as well.

They were to arise with enthusiasm in the morning and recite a verse from Scripture which reminded them of the trait so that they would begin their focus right from awakening (hitorerut). For example, if they were working on Equanimity, they might recite the verse from Tehillim, “shiviti Hashem leNegdi tamid” as they awaken. Reb Yisrael also started a “Mussar shtiebel”where a Mussar master would give a Mussar schmooze, usually between Minha and Arbith, devoted to the theme that they were studying. It was a talk taken from a lesson in Torah, but with the intent of reaching the heart and rousing emotion. Many times a verse was repeated over and over in a sing-song to break through defenses (hitpa’alut). Often the themes emphasized the imagining the experience of living from the soul and the rewards of the Light. Courage and not despair, and the possibility of repentance was emphasized, for it was suggested that anyone could “reach the level of Moshe Rabbeinu.” They also engaged in intense communal prayer that impacted each of the participants, Mussar Torah interpretations that focused on inwardness, and analysis of mitzvoth and tales from a psycho/spiritual point of view.

Reb Yisrael’s astute observational skills led him to discover another deleterious behavioral pattern that originated from a lack of consciousness. He observed that when one sees imperfections in others, instead of looking into the source of these imperfections within, he creates an imbalanced, judgmental vessel under the guise of ethics. As Reb Yisrael said, “Rather than worrying about another person’s spiritual level and one’s own physical needs, one should worry about another person’s physical needs and one’s own spiritual level” (Gottlieb). So, for Reb Yisrael, a system of compassionate ethics could only be achieved if one is aware of one’s own unconscious forces that one tends to repress and deny because of discomfort with this knowledge and the shame that it brings. One prefers blindness at times to these deep inner forces, and chooses to operate on a restricted “rational” level to avoid discomfort. But this can lead to disastrous ethical consequences, especially when it is supported by a communal stance that seeks comfort, rather than self-confrontation and growth. Reb Yisrael was confident that even though the “dim” forces were strong, one’s desire to grow, and the soul’s need to find meaning and growth (even though it was painful) was a strong asset and thus the soul’s quest would succeed with the aid of proper tools, strong effort and the aid of God. Though a human being is free in fantasy, but limited in reality (Iggeret haMussar, p. 1), though one is forced to yield to life’s limits and ultimately to tragic death, the attenuation of imagination can lead to a life of accomplishment and actualization. (In psychological terms, the reality principle would triumph over the pleasure principle). One only had to be awakened to inner motivations that led one to flee from death and vulnerability, escape into habit and diversion, and make religion itself into another regressive habit.

Moreover, Reb Yisrael asserted, if one did not find greater consciousness, even the adjudication of halakhic decisions would be fraught with unconscious agendas rather than with true objectivity. God would be worshipped in the wrong spirit, emphasizing rites and rituals, but lacking greater interest in social and interpersonal conduct—and this would cause a great hilul hashem, turning people away from Judaism.

Why is this important to articulate? Because so many of our young people are attracted to other religions and movements such as Hinduism, Buddhism, Humanism, and secularism because they do not realize that we have authentically Jewish spiritual approaches within Judaism. Though there have been many sages who have objected to the need for Mussar in the past, and posited that Torah study itself is sufficient to perfect the personality, our modern experience has revealed that at this time we need more, a specific attempt to refine the middot, so as not to create further hilulei hashemin the world, and so that an Am Kadoshbecomes strengthened. Our sages teach that Torah without consciousness does not always lead to a successful outcome. As R. Hanina Ben Dosa said: “Anyone whose awareness of sin precedes his learning, his wisdom will endure, but anyone whose wisdom takes priority over his fear of sin, his wisdom will not endure” (Avot3:11). As Reb Yisrael Salanter insightfully pointed out, certain character traits are universal and can only be overcome with consciousness and practice. As he said, “A poor person with a piece of bread can be as gluttonous as a rich person with a feast” (Gottlieb, p. 127 ).

Thus he created this unique methodology to develop consciousness and ethical deportment. R. Yisrael believed that by engaging in conscious practices and reinforcing them, and through sublimation and becoming aware of and understanding the unconscious, change could come about. Reason must be the powerful tool to help achieve this, but reason alone was not powerful enough to prevail over instincts. Change comes about when rational insights are brought down to the emotional level. This is difficult because a human being is fundamentally irrational, so one must work hard on it. Reason had to be combined with strong emotional passion in order to create a strong enough energy to overcome resistance and habit, and it had to be reinforced through action. Reb Yisrael said, “Our impulses are swiftly running currents which drown our intelligence if the latter is not carried over them in the boat of emotion and enthusiasm.” Thus the Mussar shtiebelis so important. And this desire must be translated into and reinforced by action.

One interesting school of Mussar, the Slobodka School, has particular contemporary relevance. In the Slobodka School, the spirituality of man, his unique potential was offered through parables of our ancestors. It was taught that the physical was also holy, and the strategy was an appeal to greatness, to imitate God’s ways in order to know God, to be loving just as God is loving, and this is what manifests God’s presence in the world. It was taught that to serve man is to serve God; kindness affects the doer too; and happiness is achieved through the mitzvoth. Another practice was daily meditation and self-analysis of one’s relation to the trait (hitbonenut), attempting to get to the habits that prevented successful mastery of the trait; patterns that had been erected to escape confronting anxieties and perceptions of inadequacies. These patterns inhibited one’s progress and took great effort to unravel. They committed themselves to transform a life based on ego values, in order to live a life from the soul, in order to become a mentsch, an ethical ba’al middot.

In the Navardok School, students were asked to engage in practices that would break attachments (shevirat haMiddot) to traits that inhibited growth. For example, if they were working on humility, they may have been asked to go down to the train station in disguises and carry the luggage for passengers in need. These actions reinforced the progress that they made in their contemplative mode. Furthermore, they all studied the halakhot related to the trait so that their consciousness was aroused to concentrate on keeping vigilant in practice, and this would lead to transformation in behavior. When they studied they were also asked to do so aloud, repeating the meaningful passages so they would make an imprint on their heart. They were also asked to study Hoshen Mishpat(social laws) and hokhmat olam(practical wisdom, or what we now call human psychology). Finally, they contemplated the results of their actions, and developed new habits through practical action and reinforcement.

How can the essential insights and teachings of the Mussar movement and its methodologies to improve character be implemented in a modern context? There are already many examples of yeshivot, schools, synagogues, and the Mussar Institute under the guidance of Alan Morinis that are utilizing its methodology to inspire adherents to its philosophy. Sensitive people who are attracted to Mussar seek not only their own personal spiritual growth, but also a system that leads to a mature faith, and an enlightened perspective on religion.

At the Academy for Jewish Religion California, I have instituted a Mussar program as part of the curriculum to train professional clergy leaders. All students studying at the Academy are required to attend a Mussar group for three years during their study. They are placed with a group of six to eight students and must attend the group for one hour each week. Students must also keep a journal and on a daily basis insert thoughts related to their experience with the trait that they are working on. Each week they also listen to a “Mussar schmuess” related to the parashaof the week. Reading material includes an article that I wrote in Traditionsome years ago that summarizes the highlights and goals of the movement, as well as Everyday Holinessby Alan Morinis and Luzatto’s Path of the Just. The group leader is a fellow student who has demonstrated leadership capacity, and who has taken a course on Mussar and also received some training with me. After every Mussar group session, which takes place on a Sunday evening, I meet with the group leaders (as their supervisor) for an hour to review their meeting with their groups. There we work together to address challenges that have arisen through supportive suggestions, and review progress or outcomes the following week.

Every two weeks, a specific character trait is chosen and sent out to all the students. It contains an assignment to read a specific chapter on the middah, and the students must work on that middahfor two weeks. When each trait is chosen, I also send out a message elaborating its specific qualities, its challenges, and some typical patterns that are associated with it. I will illustrate below with two examples of such communications to the students.

Dear Students,

For the next two weeks, we will be working on the character trait Patience. Patience can be defined as the ability to wait calmly for something to happen without complaining or giving up. Patience emphasizes calmness, self-control, and the willingness or ability to tolerate delay.

Your task is to read the chapter on Patience in Morinis’ Everyday Holiness,pp. 55–63 (he captures some astute insights related to the trait), and notice when the trait manifests each day of the week. You can enter this dynamic in your journal, and try to focus on what causes you to be impatient, what thoughts or expectations you hold that bring forth impatience. You may not be aware of these underlying expectations until you take a moment to focus and let it become conscious. Sometimes writing in your journal will enable this process, or sitting quietly and attempting to call forth what you were thinking when “impatience” emerged. This will create greater “consciousness” and may begin to interrupt reactive “impatience” through greater understanding of why you are feeling “impatient.” Perhaps examining your thoughts may lead you to discover that they are based on an egoistic thought stance, one that can be changed to a more spiritual outlook through practice. You may also have to examine your resistance to changing this outlook and what prevents your from changing this. What advantages and disadvantages exist by continuing your old way of thinking, and how does it block more direct access to your soul. A helpful practice is a morning practice of reciting a phrase (Shiviti Hashem L’negdi Tamid) or viewing an image that may suggest patience (a flower for example). The final step is to utilize your Mussar group the next two Sunday evenings as a place to share your experience with Patience, and listen to your fellow group members, as a supportive, loving group member who is now actively practicing “Patience.”

Impatience is often linked to a thought stance in life where we are used to getting things instantly, and with the illusion that we have control over these things, and that we have the right to expect that which our will desires. It is linked to a philosophy where individualism/egoism is emphasized, and where we expect to succeed based on our own power (efforts). There are cultures where individuals connect more to a group consciousness where one sees oneself as part of the whole, connected to many structures that operate at the same time, and one’s expectation is just to fulfill a specific task within the whole. We do not have to stand out as heroic; we just have to fulfill the duty in front of us. The success of a complex task does not rest solely upon us, our honest efforts are demanded, but the results are not in our power. Failure, thus, does not lead to self-blame but it is often the result of circumstances beyond our control and there is often a lesson to be learned from this so-called “failure” (mistake). The Heavenly realm instructs through both “failure,” and success. This way of thinking leads to greater simplicity, and greater patience.

As the Heshbon Hanefesh states, “The impatient person feels his affliction and pain more intensely than others. Moreover, he is also beset with vain regret, filled with meaningless remorse, making statements like: “Had I only not entered that business, this would never have occurred. Had I only stayed in that place for another hour, I would not have ended up here.” This way of thinking is a result of an inflation of our power in this world. The antidote to impatience is humility: knowing what we have the power and responsibility to change and knowing where to leave space for others, and for the patient way of the universe.

It is humbling and painful to realize that there are many things in the universe that are uncertain and that do not agree with our ego’s wishes. But when we “endure” this fact, we can move to a much more truthful awareness of how the relationship between our ego and soul needs to shift for a more wholesome, spiritual way of living; a more patient, less angry vessel is developed, our ego’s agenda has been revealed and we can see it as separate from our soul’s path. Our ego can now be utilized to actualize our soul’s agenda. So waiting, which was once an excruciating experience for our impatient ego, now becomes a yielding to the timing of the universe and not our timetable. We are no longer in the painful state of “wasting time” because it is not adhering to our ego’s definition of when things should occur. We see that our timetable is an extension of our ego, but in order to gain greater balance we must learn to yield to the limits and timetable of the Universe, the Holy Shekhinah.

Blessings,

Rabbi Mel Gottlieb

Dear Students,

The next theme for our spiritual development groups is the theme of Order. The reading is to be found in Alan Morinis’ book Everyday Holinesson pages 87–97. This theme is certainly relevant to each of us, who live in a world with a plethora of responsibilities that can be at times overwhelming. We must learn to prioritize, to sacrifice, to yield to limits, so that a sense of order emerges that promotes our spiritual journey and goals. Inevitably, in this process, when we pay heightened attention, we may unmask values that are in conflict, and that prevent us from clearing out distractions and additions, that when removed would allow us to pursue a more “orderly” life. We might discover that our attachments to material pursuits and pleasures take up more time than we would want them to if we are to achieve our spiritual goals. Then we face the question as to why it is so difficult to remove some of these extraneous habits, what role do they fulfill in our lives. Can applying heightened consciousness to their lack of value from a spiritual perspective, allow us to remove ourselves from them, and spend more fruitful time in areas that are more in synch with our “calling”? Can we now see that these time-consuming distractions are actually “habits” that have taken on a “life of their own,” and that we must thus make a conscious effort to “liberate” ourselves from them? Sometimes these habits are merely symptoms that are utilized to fill our hungers for meaning, and our search for meaning must come back to the more fundamental teachings and values in our tradition.

Quite often, it is other character traits that need to be recognized and transformed in order for us to be able to lead a more “orderly” life. Sometimes it is our egocentric quest for “honor and recognition,” or material security, or our desire to satisfy our impulses that must be confronted and transformed as they interfere with a disciplined yielding to the steps on the path of spiritual integration. For example, if we have a “seder” (a designated time) to study Gemara, but we get a call to give a speech which would give us “honor,” but also disrupt our study (our sense of Order), will we give in to our desire for honor and allow our “order” to be disrupted? When we reflect on this we will see that our motivation here is linked to our desire for “Honor” (Kavod), so that must be recognized and transformed if we are to achieve “Order.”

Once you begin to work on “Order” these next two weeks, many interesting layers of character traits and habits will rear their heads, and you will be blessed with a greater awareness of the complexity of your inner life. This awareness will become the first blessed step, enabling you to achieve the eventual goal of becoming more orderly and thus achieving magnificent spiritual growth, with noble effort, slowly but surely. If you begin this task, Hashem will bless your efforts and the universe will come to your aid, because a new energy will emerge from your vessel, an energy that will attract support and strength. So for the next two weeks please write journal entries related to your experience with order/disorder and see what emerges for you. Discuss it in your groups, and when you wake up in the morning ask Hashem to help you find order in your life. “Ma norah ma’asekha,” How magnificent are Your works O Lord! May you be strengthened in your work!

Sincerely,

Rabbi Mel Gottlieb

Students have made wonderful progress in improving their character traits and their growth as future spiritual and community leaders. The Mussar model can be a vital way of life to elevate the ethical level of our religious communities, and can be implemented quite easily by those current religious leaders who wish to avail themselves of this tradition.

Not too long ago, I opened up an email that contained the following riddle: What’s the difference between a religious Jew and a spiritual Jew? The answer: A spiritual Jew goes off to the forest to commune with God. A religious Jew goes off and worries if there will be money to pay the oil company for the synagogue’s boiler.

Although clearly tongue in cheek, this quip got me thinking: Is that how we would distinguish a “religious” Jew from a “spiritual” Jew? Is one just wrapped up with the bottom line material concerns, while the spirit is ceded to others? If we think about it, this is a question that in many ways Orthodox Jews now have the luxury of asking. Until the third quarter of the twentieth century, it was an open question whether there would be a place for Orthodox Jews, be they of the modern, centrist or Hareidi variety. Happily, all realms of Orthodoxy are thriving. Whether we look at the study halls in Lakewood, the Bet Midrash at Yeshiva University, the establishment of Yeshivat Chovevei Torah, the surge in daf yomi learning in synagogues, offices, or even in a Long Island Railroad car, things have never appeared brighter. Add to that mix the unprecedented explosion in opportunities for women to learn Torah in secondary schools, post-high school yeshivot, general Torah study; or the communal conversation focusing on fashioning professional roles for Orthodox women within the framework of synagogues and yeshivot. On the surface, things have never appeared better. And yet I am reminded of the old joke of two men sitting on the park bench. One turns to his friend and says, Chaim are you an optimist or a pessimist? An optimist, Chaim answers. If so, asks his friend, why then do you look so troubled? To which Chaim answers—who says it is easy to be an optimist!

We have a lot to be optimistic about—but at times it is not so easy, as we confront some of the challenges that our community faces. There are too many stories of young Orthodox Jews who are leaving the world of religiosity behind them. Even within the world of Hassidism, we hear of “reverse Marranos”: those who retain their Hassidic garb on the outside but have become non-believers on the inside, struggling with belief and identity. And too many people who attend school or synagogue engage in what I call “deposit the body” syndrome. They are present but not present. In essence they have spiritually checked out.

What can we do to stem this phenomenon? Is it just an inevitable consequence of living in a modern world, hemmed in by time and financial pressures? After all, who has the luxury of looking at our spiritual ledger when we are too engrossed in balancing our financial one? What can we do to reach out to those who are not finding spiritual satisfaction through study and engagement with Jewish texts? Is there something we can do to fill in the missing links that will enrich and enliven everyone’s spiritual lives, despite the pressured lives we lead?

As we know, this is not a new conversation. If we look back for a moment at the rise of the Hassidic movement we are confronted by a very similar conversation.

One of the often cited polemics by the Hassidic movement against their Misnaged opponents was that Misnagdim were missing the fire in their souls. Referencing the verse in Devarim 5:5, where Moshe criticizes the Israelites, “you did not come near the fire,” the nascent Hassidic movement said: You are too staid! You don’t know how to engage in Avodat haShem (service of God). We have the hitlahavut (enthusiasm). We have Ahavat haShem (love of God). We have the joy that allows us to move from a mere intellectual approach and take it to a higher spiritual level.

The Misnagim answered: You are ignorant. You only focus on the ecstasy; you forsake the deep learning that can bring you closer to Avodat haShem. Where is your Yir’at Shamayim (fear of Heaven)?

When we look at the contemporary Orthodox religious scene, are we still mired in a conflict between those who emphasize learning as a means to a closer relationship with God and those who believe ecstatic prayer and service can bring us closer. To address this conflict, I think we need to examine the kind of spiritual communities we are creating in the lives of our children in school; in particular during the high school years. In addition, I think we need to examine the kind of spiritual atmosphere we are building in our synagogues. And last but not least we have to consider the spiritual values we are emphasizing in our homes.

Not too long ago, I was speaking to the principal of a Modern Orthodox coeducational high school. I asked this educator’s advice on how to create a more meaningful prayer atmosphere for the students. The principal’s reply to me was “the best type of praying is the quickest.” I could not believe my ears. There is no question that the time scheduling pressures for high school students are extraordinary. How do you fit into each day all the limudei kodesh, have gym and lunch, and integrate the limudei hol? So “davening” then becomes the perfect foil, it’s the perfect expendable item. Get it over with and then the kids can move on to what is really important. Think about it. We are squandering the opportunity to start the day with wrapping these young minds with an understanding of how we should begin our day, in a passionate dance with the Almighty. As the Zohar teaches, the fire that was on the altar went into the hearts of the kohanim and the worshippers so that their song was full of passion and the immense power of prayer filled their beings. Is this too much for a 16 year old to absorb? Assuredly not. Even if only offered once or twice a week, a longer davening filled with melodies and time to explain the words and concepts, a prayer service filled with devekkut will not cause the students’ SAT scores to suffer. We have to set the example as to what is not only of academic importance but of supreme importance. We need to reintegrate the spiritual with the intellectual. We have to reclaim the fire. Otherwise the die is cast. We will create the next generation of daveners who think that the best davening is the one that is quickest. As much as we think the students will absorb the spirit from the texts of Torah and Talmud, we have to help them absorb the spiritual from the words of tefillah, our prayers.

And regarding our synagogues?

Perhaps a facet of synagogue life that we might prefer not to confront is what are people gaining spiritually from their synagogue experiences? No matter how long or short, do worshippers feel bored? Do they approach their prayers like the principal of the school, that the best davening is the quickest davening? Now here, let me be the realist and distinguish between a daily minyan (not in a school context) and Shabbat morning. In the world of the early morning minyan, where everybody is rushing off to work, every minute counts. Pity the poor prayer leader who on Rosh Hodesh drags out Hallel too long! The morning minyan is generally quite happy if an excuse can be found to skip the “Tahanun” prayers and thereby save a few minutes.

But what of Shabbat morning? With a whole day ahead of us to eat and sleep and spend time with family and friends, what’s the rush? And yet the flag of reality has to be waved every week-- go too long and it’s considered tirha d’tzibbura, a discomforting of the congregation. But is it the length of the service that really bothers people or rather is it the aura that surrounds the prayers? What is going through the minds of the average person in synagogue? Are people focused during Shaharit? Attentive during the Torah reading? Awake and engaged during the rabbi’s sermon?

Perhaps one way of raising the level of connectedness is for more synagogues to integrate more of the practices often found outside of a main minyan. For example, in many synagogues that offer Beginners’, Intermediate, or Learners’ minyanim, I have noticed that many of the people who attend these services are actually very knowledgeable. I would not classify these people as being on a “beginner” or “intermediate” level. So when I have asked them why they attend these minyanim, they answer: We like the discussion that surrounds the Torah reading. It makes the text come alive. We enjoy the periodic explanations. We enjoy the warmth and camaraderie.

It should give pause to consider introducing some of these elements into the main synagogue service, even at the risk of a service running a bit longer, as a way of enhancing the experience of those in a main minyan.

Another factor toward raising the spiritual experience for synagogue goers is the overall figure of the Shaliah Tsibbur (prayer leader). There is no question that overall, there has been an evolving relationship around the role of the professional cantor in the world of so many Orthodox synagogues. What was once a central figure of the synagogue service has now been downplayed or outright replaced by volunteer prayer leaders. Yet, while this may be helpful to the bottom line synagogue budget, thought must be given to this decision. Unless the volunteer prayer leaders are truly adept at the art of nusah, often we get exposed to a hodgepodge of styles and melodies, not to mention a variety of singing skills. There is no question that the embracing of the nusah of Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach has led to a greater means of capturing a sense of spirituality. But that too must be executed properly, because otherwise it is a tirha d’tzibbura, no less that a hazzan who in the old days dragged out services. For example, at the services that take place at Kol HaNeshamah, (the organization that I co-founded with Cantor Ari Klein,) we have worked very hard to create an atmosphere of engaged daveners, including explanations at certain places, as well as highlighting congregational singing by combining traditional nusah with Carlebach niggunim, an atmosphere of hitlahavut (fervor) while being led by a hazzan and an a cappella group. The fervor I witnessed this past year on the Yamim Noraim, of hundreds of members of the kahal davening, singing, and dancing—men on the men’s side of the mehitsa, women on the women’s side of the mehitsa, made me realize that davening and devekut, Yir’at Shamayim and Ahavat haShem can go hand in hand. If executed correctly by the Shaliah tsibbur/hazzan (as I noted above, Carlebach nusah requires as great agility as the standard nusah), it will elevate our experience to a level that recognizes the importance of engaging the soul and the mind, the heart and the head.

The good news is that more and more synagogues are aware of this and are creating a more spiritual experience within the construct of a traditional service. The challenge is to get even more congregations on board, realizing how high the stakes truly are. When we think about it then, how to meld the intellectual with the spiritual is not merely a theoretical question harking back to the Hasisdic-Misnagdic fight of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

It is necessary in our times to bring the fervor back into our schools, our synagogues, and our homes. It also means that we can’t just cede it to the professionals. It isn’t just up to the rabbis, the principals, the teachers. It is incumbent upon each of us in our homes to set an example of working on both our dedication to Jewish daily practice, to Jewish knowledge and daily study of and dedication to Jewish texts but especially to our religious fervor.

(This week's Angel for Shabbat column is a sermon I delivered at Congregation Shearith Israel on Rosh HaShana, 5769. Its message continues to be relevant. I wish you all a happy, healthy New Year. Tizku leShanim Rabbot.)

Gilda and I recently were invited to attend a charity dinner at a very fancy New York hotel. The moment we arrived, we immediately knew we might have been happier if we had stayed at home!

We, of course, tried to be “non-judgmental”. Nonetheless, we were unfavorably impressed with the many women dressed (or not quite dressed) in outlandish outfits, with ludicrous hairdos, with gaudy jewelry dangling as conspicuously as possible. We were equally unimpressed with the many men who dressed in flashy tuxedos with flamboyant suspenders, gold necklaces, and with their hair dyed—except for the gray sideburns—and greased back.

When we looked at these people, we saw pomposity, stupidity, terrible taste, vanity.

But then I thought: when these people looked in the mirror before leaving for the fancy dinner, what did they see? How did they view themselves? The answer is: they probably saw themselves as attractive, elegant, fashionable, and perhaps 20 or 30 years younger than they really were.

What could account for the vast discrepancy in how I described them, and how they would have described themselves? The answer is: we don’t always see ourselves objectively! We see ourselves and judge ourselves in the best possible light; we don’t even realize when we are deluding ourselves.

The New York Times recently reported that 97% of the retirees of the Long Island Railroad claimed disabilities upon retirement and therefore received extra pension payments. This practice has cost hundreds of millions of dollars. It is truly amazing that all these workers were healthy during their working years, and suddenly became disabled the day they retired. It is equally amazing that doctors signed statements confirming these disabilities, and that administrators paid out these disability claims so readily. Based on the newspaper reports, we would conclude that there are a lot of cheaters who are literally stealing money from the public. But how do these people see themselves? They see themselves as good, honest, fine people. They are just going along with the system, not doing anything different from anyone else. They put in their years of service, and now they are “entitled” to take whatever they can get. The company can afford it! The public will pay!

Or let us turn (a bit grimly) to the current financial crisis gripping our nation and the world at large. Huge companies have gone bankrupt. Corporations have been horribly mismanaged. The sub-prime mortgage scandal reflects greed, poor judgment, misleading of investors. All of us have been hurt by this crisis, our assets are down, our pension funds are down. We might come up with choice words to express our opinion of the corporate leaders who have enriched themselves at the public’s expense, and who have brought on a global financial panic. Yet, how do the corporate leaders who have caused this crisis view themselves? They see themselves as honest and upstanding business people who tried to maximize profits for their companies. They only did what others were also doing. They have not offered to return the many millions of dollars they were paid in salaries and bonuses, while their ineptitude caused financial distress and ruin to so many of their victims. They feel that they earned their money fairly.

Does anyone say: I’m really a bad person who tries to do evil and to hurt others? Even terrorists claim to be good people acting on behalf of a noble cause. Criminals claim to be good people, forced into crime by poverty and other social ills.

The fact is: it is human nature to judge ourselves in the most charitable way. Indeed, human beings who always feel that they are wrong and guilty—these people need to see a psychiatrist to deal with their poor self-esteem. Most people feel comfortable with themselves and see themselves favorably.

These observations also apply to us in our religious life. Rarely have I heard anyone say: “I’m really a bad, unspiritual person. I know what our religion teaches and I willfully reject it and ignore it, because I’m just no good.” More often, people say: “I do my best; I’m better than many others; I may not study much Torah and may not observe the mitzvoth too carefully, but I mean well. I do many good things. God will understand.”

Our self-perception sometimes borders on self-delusion. We wear masks, we rationalize, we make excuses, we justify ourselves.

The High Holy Day season, beginning with the month of Elul, is a period of teshuva, repentance. This is a time to take off masks, to cut through our excuses, and to see ourselves as honestly and clearly as possible. Surely, we have many virtues. But we also have deficiencies, areas where we can improve. If we can adjust our self-perception, we can really be so much better and so much happier.

But how can we gain a proper perspective on ourselves? We can’t rely entirely on our own opinions of ourselves, since we tend to glorify our virtues and downplay our failings. We can’t even rely on what others may say about us, since they may be judging us by the wrong standards as well, and either over-praise us or over-criticize us.

Each year at this season, I call to mind two Talmudic passages that help me put things into perspective. One deals with a great sage, Akabia ben Mahalalel. Akabia was at odds with his colleagues on several points of halakha. Although he was a minority of one, he would not concede to the majority rulings. His colleagues made him an offer: “Akabia, if you will retract your views and accept ours, we will make you head of the Sanhedrin. You will then have great status and great authority.” Akabia declined this offer, and responded with an immortal line: “I prefer to be called a fool every day of my life, but not be wicked in the eyes of God for even a moment.” Akabia taught us something very important. We must try to view our lives, to the extent possible, from the vantage point of God. If we realize that we will have an accounting to give and that we will not be able to deceive the Judge in any way, we can hope to keep proper perspective on our lives. Our goal is not to impress others, not to gain power or wealth, not to win ephemeral success, not to outsmart “the system”: our goal is to be able to stand honestly in God’s presence. We must try to live our lives so as not to be wicked in the eyes of God for even an instant.

The other Talmudic passage tells of the son of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi. This young man, a promising scholar in his own right, died. The grief was great. But then, amazingly, the son came back to life. (Perhaps this is an early example of the near-death phenomenon which is being studied by modern psychologists and doctors.) The joy was great. Rabbi Yehoshua realized that his son had gone to the next world and had now returned to this world. Rabbi Yehoshua asked his son: what did you see in the next world? The son replied: olam hafukh ra-iti, I saw a topsy-turvy world. Those who are great in this world, are of little account in the next world. Those who are little-esteemed in this world, are highly honored in the next world. Rabbi Yehoshua stated: no, son, you did not see a topsy-turvy world. You saw things as they really are, olam barur ra-ita.

The message of this story is that ultimate reality is the truth from the vantage point of God and from the vantage point of the next world. In this world, we are easily deceived. We think of some people as powerful and great and successful—when in fact they are little-esteemed in the next world. We think of some people as insignificant, powerless, unsuccessful—when in fact they are highly-esteemed in the eyes of God.

Our rabbinic sages, in describing Rosh Hashanah, drew on the symbol of the Book of Life. The imagery is that God sits in judgment over each of us, and decides in which book to inscribe our names. What this symbolism is really teaching is: our lives need to be viewed in perspective of God’s judgment, and that we are answerable for ourselves to God. That is what is ultimately important and genuine. No more self-delusion, no more mask-wearing, no more chasing after illusions and shadows. When we look into the mirror, we should see who we really are—not idealized versions of who we think we are.

During this period of Teshuva, may we more clearly develop our self-perception; more wisely lead our lives; more happily and meaningfully strengthen ourselves, our families and our community. Amen.