National Scholar Updates

Should a person feel guilty for using an English ArtScroll Gemara (as opposed to struggling with the original Aramaic)?

The Talmud (Shabbat 31a) cites the opinion of Rava about what we will be asked when we eventually come before the heavenly court. One of the questions is: kavata itim leTorah, did you set aside fixed times to study Torah. Regular study of Torah is expected of us, and we will have to answer for ourselves in due course.

Torah study can be in any language one understands. The important thing is to understand what we read and to connect our study to service of Hashem. Over the centuries, Jews have studied Torah in many languages—Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, Arabic, Spanish, German,Yiddish etc.  I hope and assume that none of those Jews ever felt guilty for studying in the vernacular they understood.

When one studies Talmud today, it’s fine to use editions that provide translations and explanations in the vernacular. The goal is to understand what we read. It is hoped, though, that one will eventually become proficient enough to study the original text on its own.

No one should ever feel guilty for studying Torah in the vernacular. Guilt should only be felt if we fail to set aside times for Torah study each day. The heavenly court has its question ready for us: let us be sure to have our answer ready.

Should we try to preserve Yiddish as a living language in America or Israel?

Over the centuries, Jews developed languages such as Yiddish, Judeo-Spanish, Judeo-Arabic etc. These languages reflected Jewish societies that were largely cut off from the larger societies around them. Jews spoke their own languages, ran their own schools, published their own books and newspapers.

For most Jews today, the sociological reasons for maintaining a distinctive Jewish language no longer apply. Jews speak the language of the land as their mother tongue. Sociological realities relentlessly undermine the need for a distinctive “Jewish” language.

Yiddish remains a living language among Chassidim and others who seek to insulate their group from the “outside” society. For them, the language is alive and well.

I grew up among Sephardim of Judeo-Spanish background. My grandparents’ generation spoke Judeo-Spanish as their mother tongue. My parents spoke the language fluently to their parents and elders…but spoke to us in English. We understood our elders when they spoke Judeo-Spanish…but our mother tongue is English. My generation is the last to hear Judeo-Spanish as a vibrant, living language.

There are efforts to maintain vestiges of the language and tradition…prayers, folksongs, proverbs etc. But it is highly unlikely that it will ever again be spoken as a mother-tongue. Instead of lamenting this fact, we should be striving to derive lasting lessons from Judeo-Spanish civilization. The same is true for Yiddish outside Chassidic circles.  Instead of lamenting the decline, let us draw on the treasures of Yiddish culture to enhance and enrich the Jewishness of ours and future generations.

I wrote a memoir about growing up in the Sephardic community of Seattle, and how the Americanization process has impacted on us: A New World: An American Sephardic Memoir . It can be ordered on this link: https://www.jewishideas.org/new-world-american-sephardic-memoir-rabbi-marc-angel

Is it appropriate for a Jew to own a (non-violent) pet dog?

The Shulhan Arukh (Hoshen Mishpat 409:3) rules that it is forbidden to raise a “kelev ra”-- a bad, ferocious dog—unless it is chained down. The Rama notes that it is permissible to raise tame dogs and that in fact this was a fairly common practice.

Since it is halakhically permitted to own a non-violent dog, each individual can decide whether or not to have a pet dog. No one else has the right to pass judgment on whether it is or is not appropriate for a Jew to own a pet dog.

Dog owners should realize, though, that some people are afraid of dogs, others are allergic to dog hair, and yet others are simply uncomfortable in the presence of dogs…even tame dogs. Owners should be sensitive to the needs and feelings of those who visit their homes or who are met while walking their dogs. Even good dogs can seem to be “bad” in the eyes of those who have an aversion to dogs.

If Jews want to own non-violent pet dogs, they are welcome to do so. If they want to own guard dogs, they need to be sure that these dogs are kept under proper control so that they do not harm innocent victims. Dog owners should be highly sensitive to the concerns of others who are not “dog lovers” and who may be frightened or displeased to have a pet dog bark at them, jump on them, or lick their hands.

The Turkish author, Orhan Pamuk, observed: “Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen.”

A New World: An American Sephardic Memoir

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

(These are excerpts from Rabbi Angel’s book, A New World: An American Sephardic Memoir, Albion Andalus Books, Boulder, 2019.   The book is available through the online store of jewishideas.org.)

            Transitions.

Things stay the same, but not really. Things change, but not totally.

            My grandparents were among the 30,000 or so Sephardic Jews who came to the United States during the early 20th century. They were born and raised in Turkey and the Island of Rhodes. They had little formal education, little money, but a lot of courage.

            They brought the “old country” with them to the new world. Their language was Judeo-Spanish. Their culture was the traditional Sephardic Judaism of Ottoman Jewry. They settled in Seattle, Washington, and were part of a vibrant Sephardic enclave with large extended families.

            My grandparents were of the “old world” and they sought to transmit their ideals and values to their children. Their children were of the “new world.” Life in America was very different from the tradition-centered life of the Jews in Turkey and Rhodes. The children’s generation respected their parents; but this new American generation was restless. They wanted to adapt fully to American life. How much of the “old world” could they carry with them? How much of it had to be left behind?

            By my generation (I was born in 1945), the Americanization process was well advanced. We loved and admired our grandparents and their generation; but we were full-blooded Americans, many of us with American-born parents. The “old world” was remote, somewhat exotic. It didn’t define who we were.

            Our children and grandchildren are further removed from the “old country.” Most have never heard a conversation in Judeo-Spanish. Most have not had personal contact with members of my grandparents’ generation.

            The Americanization of our family over the past hundred years has brought many changes. We are far better educated than the immigrant generation. We are generally more affluent, more “successful,” and more integrated into American society. We have shared in the American dream.

            But we have also incurred losses in the generational transitions. Life is not static. Things change. Circumstances change. People change.  Whereas most of our family once lived within the same neighborhood in Seattle, now we are spread out all over the country. Whereas most of our family once felt a strong sense of belonging to the Sephardic Jewish tradition, now we are much more diverse in our religious and cultural patterns of life.

            While we can’t go back to the “old days” and the “old country” way of life, we can draw meaningful lessons for ourselves and our next generations. In assembling the memoirs for this book, I have chosen people and events that have left a lasting impression on me…and that I think can leave a lasting impression on many others. This book is one man’s record of an era which is rapidly coming to a close. I acknowledge that memoirs are subjective; each person experiences life through his or her own eyes and each remembers things differently.

            My mother used to say that we could learn almost everything we need to know about human nature from our own extended family. Some relatives were wise, some foolish; some were successful, some failures; some optimistic, some morose; some pious, some rebellious.  Our family included intellectuals and people of very limited intelligence. We had courageous and outspoken individuals, and we had timid, quiet types. Some had phenomenal senses of humor, and some would hardly ever laugh. In the family, one could experience love, hatred, selflessness, jealousy, greed, generosity, spirituality, materialism, seriousness, humor.

            The family included people of great mind and heart, people who were handsome and beautiful, people of striking personality. It also included, without embarrassment, people who were quite ordinary, as well as individuals who had various physical, emotional and mental disabilities.

            My grandfather Angel had a shoeshine stand. My grandfather Romey was a barber. My father was a grocer. Among my uncles were a butcher, fish salesman, rabbi, printer, storekeeper, bartender, college professor, and assorted unskilled laborers. Various relatives were real estate speculators, never-do-wells, while others were employees of Boeing.  In the days of my childhood, most of the women of our family did not work outside the home.

            By the next generation, the extended family came to include rabbis, teachers, attorneys, insurance and real estate agents, a political scientist, skilled employees in various companies, a merchant marine, salespeople, athletes, a nurse, and several authors of books.

            My mother saw the family as something of a microcosm of humanity in general and society in particular. We could understand the world around us if we could understand ourselves.

            In those days, the family was large, diverse and whole. We mostly lived in the same neighborhood; we got together often; we recognized a strong vital sense of kinship among ourselves.

            One of the focal points of my childhood was the home of my maternal grandparents at 214 15th Avenue in Seattle, Washington. Even now, so many years after their deaths, I often find myself reminiscing about that house, remembering so many details about it. It has stood as a symbol in my mind of our family together. It calls to mind a simpler time, a time when life seemed whole and connected.

*****

My grandparents and their generation have passed away.

My parents and all their siblings have passed away.

My generation is getting on in years. Some of my cousins have died or are in declining health. Some still live in Seattle, but some live in Portland, Los Angeles, Sioux Falls, New York, Jerusalem…and other places. Some are religiously traditional, and some have moved far from Jewish religious observance.

Our children and grandchildren live in a world much removed from the “old neighborhood” in Seattle where I was born and raised. They have little contact with the children and grandchildren of the cousins of my generation. They have hardly heard (or never heard) Judeo-Spanish as a living language. They have no first hand memories of the lives of the pioneer Sephardic immigrants who came to America in the early 20th century.

Peter Berger, an eminent scholar of modern American civilization, has noted that moderns suffer from a deepening condition of spiritual “homelessness.” The old anchors and moorings have not held.

The old days are gone forever. Looking back can be pleasant; but it cannot create a new framework for society. It is not enough to have a “home” in the past. We need to be at home in the present and to create homes for our children and grandchildren.

The “old country of Seattle” cannot be put back together. It is gone, never to return. But values can live on; attitudes can be transmitted; ideas can transcend time and space. Moderns need not be spiritually homeless if they can create a society based on love, trust, shared values and ideals. Our sense of being at home will come from inner strength, from our immediate family and friends, from our communal structures. For our future generations to feel that life is whole, meaningful and secure, we will need to create frameworks where they feel “at home,” comfortable with themselves, comfortable with the world in which they live.

Our grandparents and parents and their generations left us a powerful legacy of memories, values and ideals. As we draw strength and wisdom from their lives, we face the present and the future with increasing confidence. We can’t go home again, but neither can we ever really leave home.

In the State of Israel, the topic of conversion frequently emerges at the top of the country’s agenda. The successful immigration of Jews from the former Soviet Union, who lived for decades behind the Iron Curtain, created a complicated halakhic situation regarding the identities of some of these immigrants. According to the plain halakha, more than 300,000 of these immigrants are categorized as non-Jews, despite the fact that they descend from Jews (Jewish father, grandfather, etc.) There is no doubt that, in order to solve this problem, there is a need to convert these immigrants in consonance with Jewish law.

The general population in Israel doesn’t understand the halakhic perspective, which views the conversion process as a deep transformational process that takes place within the convert and demands a qualitative change in the individual’s faith, behavior, and way of life. Many of those who attack the rabbinic and Torah institutions charge them with a lack of sensitivity and flexibility. They ask with bewilderment how it is possible that one would place barriers in the path of a person who is prepared to endanger and sacrifice his life for the security of the Jewish nation.

It is important to remember that no matter the good will and intentions of the Jewish judges and rabbis, their true inner selves will not permit them to deviate from the letter of the law. However, our Torah is a Torah of life. According to the way of Torah and halakha, there is plenty of room for an approach that will provide a solution that will help pull the wagon of conversions out from the “mud” in which it is currently stuck.

To accomplish this, we need strength of character and many other qualities such as a penetrating ability to understand the opinions of the halakhic authorities and their logic, a broad perspective, and an ability to anticipate unknown complications.

These will enable us to act for the betterment of the general population. Not doing so will lead us down a path filled with fences and barriers and will in the end destroy the unity of our people. (This is the implication of the first Mishna in Pirkei Avoth, which teaches to “make a fence around the Torah.” We must make sure that every fence we create will benefit the Torah and not the opposite.) This demands the courage and valor to think differently, and all must be done with a strong adherence to the truth of Torah as understood by the classic commentaries.

Before setting out to find leniencies within the framework of halakha regarding conversions, we need to understand the circumstances that require us to explore the vast array of halakhic sources for leeway. This background will enable us to find a solution to the difficult problems that we face in our times.

The following are the basic issues that need to be considered:

1) The number of marriages between Jews and Hebrew-speaking non-Jewish immigrants is rapidly increasing. Assimilation is a very common problem in our region and impacts about 500,000 immigrants—and the numbers increase daily.

2) Because of increasing numbers of intermarriages, a distinction can arise between the Jewish nation and the Jewish faith—to the point that there will be two nations or a difference between an “Israeli” and a “Jew.” This endangers the Torah perspective that the “nation” and the “faith” are synonymous.

3) The more the problem grows, the more non-Jews will live in our midst, creating a demographic problem, which will add to the already existing demographic issues we face with our Arab neighbors and Arab citizens in the State.

4) A harsh stance on conversion by the Chief Rabbinate will only create more antagonism toward the Chief Rabbinate; the status of the rabbinate will further erode; and hatred of religion will increase. This is widely known and should be self understood with no need for further elaboration.

5) There is a pending law that advocates civil marriage as a legal alternative to a religious marriage. This law is gaining force and has negative religious implications. If we don’t solve the problem of conversions and marriage in a manner that conforms to halakha, others will solve it through this law with its broad approach to allow civil marriage for all who desire it and not only for the non-religious.

6) The rigid stance of Haredim regarding conversions pushes people toward non-halakhic conversions and non-Orthodox movements.

Zera Yisrael—Jewish Ancestry

The key to understanding the halakhic basis for the conversion of immigrants from the former Soviet Union in the framework of either military or civilian conversion is the designation of “zera yisrael” (Jewish seed/ancestry). This means that even though a person born to a non-Jewish mother is not halakhically Jewish, if his father or grandfather is Jewish, he is described as coming from zera yisrael.

The halakhic implication of the designation of zera yisrael enables us to deal differently with people who have Jewish blood flowing through their veins than we do with other individuals who wish to convert. We can be more lenient with them despite the fact that before they convert, they are non-Jews, halakhically speaking. These people must be dealt with differently for they are the “outcasts” (nidakhim) and “lost ones” (ovdim), to whom Isaiah referred to when he said “And those who are lost in the land of Assyria and those cast away in the land of Egypt will come and they will prostrate themselves to God on the holy mountain in Jerusalem” (27:13). Ezekiel actually screamed against those who don’t help these people and who create obstacles for them, chastising them with the words “The banished you did not retrieve; for the lost you did not search” (34:4).

Upon clarifying the opinion of our sages who are the halakhic authorities, we can conclude decisively that certain immigrants must be treated differently from others who desire conversion. They must have the following qualities: They come to convert here in Israel; they or their parents returned to Israel based on the Law of Return; and they have a clear Jewish family line.

The designation of zera yisrael not only enables us to be more lenient with conversion, but even demands that we reach out to these people. The Rashbash (Solomon ben Simon Duran, c. 1400–1467, Algiers) wrote in his responsa (368) that the Anusim (people who were forced to abandon Judaism but continued to maintain some Jewish practices) or their children who come to convert (since they married gentiles) are not only accepted for conversion even though they have ulterior motives, but that we should actively bring them close and under the wings of God’s Presence. Similar decisions were also published by leading rabbis.

This perspective led Rabbi Meir Simcha HaKohen of Dvinsk to the following explanation on a verse regarding converts in the Torah in his book Meshekh Hokhma. It states in Parashat Kedoshim that “When a convert lives among you in your land, do not taunt him” (Leviticus 19:33). He explains this to mean that “even if it is possible that he is not a complete convert, that he wants to join the Congregation of Israel for some other reason, then do not afflict him, meaning, don’t distance him and don’t push him away.” So we see that the halakha establishes numerous leniencies to avoid closing the door to converts.

Similar words were written by Rabbi Rafael Aharon ben Shimon in his book Nahar Mitzrayim (page 111a). He explained that we usually scrutinize converts to determine their motivation for converting, and if it is found that they are not converting for the sake of Heaven then they would not be converted. However, when the situation was a Jew who was in love with a non-Jewish woman; they were living together for some time; and, in some situations they even had children together; and the non-Jewish wife wishes to be converted, we accept the woman and children for conversion even if there are clear ulterior motives. Rabbi Rafael Aharon ben Shimon testifies that this happened many times “because to our great pain we cannot put the flag of religion” on anyone. It is clearly accepted that when we speak of those from zera yisrael, especially when they come from a place where all efforts were made to get them to forget their religion and Judaism, we should bring them close. The Rashbash (368) writes that people who do bring these people under God’s Divine Presence are in the category described by Jeremiah (15:19) as “if you take the precious from the vile, you shall be as My mouth,” meaning they have the power of God Himself.

That said, in regard to those who immigrated under the Law of Return with non-Jewish mothers, it is a mitzvah to bring these souls closer and to convert them even when it is not clear to us whether they will accept the fundamentals of Judaism with a full heart.

Therefore, any discussion about conversion of people who immigrated based on the Law of Return cannot be disconnected from the unique distinction of “Jewish descent.” Amazingly, in all the discussions of the sages in modern times regarding conversion and acceptance of mitzvoth they made no distinction between an ordinary non-Jew who comes to convert and someone with Jewish heritage. Many have gone so far as to say that “acceptance of mitzvoth” means that the convert must obligate himself to observe all mitzvoth. This has led to their quick retraction of conversions since they believe that if the convert transgresses just some mitzvoth then their conversion is null and void.

There are many great rabbis in our generation who agree in principle that we should be more lenient with those with Jewish roots than we are with other candidates for conversion. However, with regard to the fundamental of “acceptance of mitzvoth,” they make no distinction between them and others. They are simply unaware of the opinions of the earlier sages regarding the significance of having Jewish heritage and ancestry.

This is why the Chief Rabbi of Israel, Rabbi Ben Zion Meir Hai Uziel, felt the need to write in his Responsa Mishpetei Uziel (7:19, 4) that, according to all opinions, people of Jewish descent born to non-Jewish mothers are called “Jewish seed.” He went even further and wrote, “From all this we have learned that the condition of fulfilling the mitzvoth does not prevent a conversion even to begin with…from all that has been said we learn that it is permissible and a mitzvah to accept converts even though we know that they will not fulfill all the mitzvoth.”

My approach, to which many great Torah sages agree, assures that, on the one hand we bring close anyone of Jewish stock and help find permissible ways according to halakha to convert them, while, on the other hand, not rushing to usher non-Jews who are not of Jewish heritage into our nation. This approach, in my humble opinion, is correct according to halakha and is proper for the situation of the Jewish people in our times. I believe that in the future, with God’s help, this approach will solve the problem of the non-Jewish immigrants from the former Soviet Union who live in our midst in Israel. It is possible that segments in the Torah world will combat this approach, but I hope that those who are involved with the Torah of truth for the sake of Heaven will grab hold of this true path.

Conversions of Soldiers in the IDF

An additional consideration, which relates primarily to military conversions, is the recognition that soldiers who serve in the Israeli Defense Forces are prepared to give up their lives for the security of the nation and the protection of the State of Israel. Through this noble act, they include themselves among those who “fight without fear with the intention to sanctify God’s name” who, according to the Rambam (Hilkhot Melakhim 7:15) “merit the World to Come.” Based on the Rambam’s words we can certainly include this mitzvah of risking one’s life for the general population as one of the mitzvoth that a convert accepts upon himself. The basic law requires that we simply inform the conversion candidate about some of the lighter and stricter mitzvoth, and if he accepts them we convert him or her immediately.

How lofty is the virtue of those who fight and sanctify God’s name to protect the Jewish nation in the land of Israel against those who rise against us to destroy us? They have great merits and these merits should, at the very least, be a reason to accept them for conversion. This builds on the fact that they are from zera yisrael, whom we are obligated to accept for conversion even when they come with ulterior motives. Rabbi Binyamin Kosis, the head of the rabbinic court in Tsefat wrote similar words in his book Megilat Sefer (negative commandments #116): “When one feels the suffering of Jewish subjugation and joins with them in their suffering, this demonstrates that his heart is complete and he wants very much to be a Jew.”

This brings to mind the following meaningful words of the Pele Yoetz of Rabbi Eliezer Papo: “…There are many Jews who, on the surface, appear to be empty vessels but have in their hands the mitzvah of saving Jews and, with this mitzvah, they overpower the Sages and Torah giants of Israel…”

An additional reason mentioned by HaRav Ovadiah Yosef regarding the Karaites is the desecration of God’s name if we don’t accept these converts. HaRav Ovadiah relates the following in regard to the conversions of the Karaites, whose leaders helped to establish the State of Israel and whose sons were drafted to defend it (Yabia Omer 8:12): “What will those who don’t observe Torah and mitzvoth say when they see that we distance those who sacrifice themselves for Israel?” He is conveying that it is a desecration of God’s name to act toward them with a distancing approach instead of reaching out to them. A similar concept was espoused by one of the great Lithuanian Rabbis, Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzienski, two generations ago in Reponsa Ahiezer (3:28). He writes that even though, in his opinion, Jewish courts should not be involved in these conversions, he does not think the rabbis should “make noise” and publicly condemn these conversions; he feared that it would cause a desecration of God’s name if those who didn’t know better were to accuse the rabbis of being obstructionists. These words definitely apply to IDF soldiers of Jewish descent who immigrated to Israel and who sacrifice their lives for the Jewish people and Israel.

It is clear that without any acceptance of Torah and mitzvoth we cannot accept a conversion candidate. If we see that the candidate will continue to live exactly the way he lived before, with no visible change to demonstrate entrance into the Jewish people, then both heart and logic argue not to accept him. However, thank God, here in Israel, it is easy for a person to “observe tradition” by making Kiddush on Shabbat, fasting on Yom Kippur, lighting candles on Friday night, avoiding non-Kosher food, refraining from eating hametz on Pessah, celebrating Jewish holidays, and observing many other mitzvoth. Even the beloved mitzvah of tefilin (phylacteries) is performed by many who don’t observe Shabbat according to all the technicalities of halakha. Are we going to call these people non-Jews? Are we going to say they are not accomplishing anything by doing these actions? Of course not! So, if a convert undergoes circumcision and purification in a mikvah to become Jewish with an acceptance and actual fulfillment of the mitzvoth listed above, it definitely helps. They observe these in addition to the mitzvoth that any convert will likely desire to perform as defined by Rabbi David Zvi Ben Moshe Hoffman in his book Melamed L’HoIl (Even HaEzer 3), such as the prohibitions of idolatry, adultery, and murder; the mitzvoth of charity, honoring parents, and loving neighbors. All of the above suffice when coupled with a general statement of acceptance of our laws. Then, with God’s help, together with his designated religious family who will strengthen him with warmth, and along with a supportive community, he will slowly but surely become a fully practicing Jew.

The arbitrary and shameless way in which IDF soldiers—and certainly those of zera yisrael—who converted through the military rabbinate are treated is the height of ingratitude. Not recognizing their conversions and retroactively nullifying them is contrary to halakha. All military conversions that were carried out from the time the State was established until today were performed by rabbis who live with fear of Heaven, and these conversions were recognized and certified by the Chief Rabbinate. They always received the full support of the law with no hesitation. So, what changed in recent years? The disgrace demonstrated to soldiers who serve the people and who dedicate and sacrifice their souls for the Jewish nation, with many of them studying Torah, is not tolerable. The great halakhic authorities over the course of all generations saw this type of readiness as decisive testimony regarding the seriousness of their intent to convert.

Acceptance of Mitzvoth

The primary dispute regarding conversion in the State of Israel revolves around the concept of Kabbalat haMitzvoth, acceptance of mitzvoth. Accepting the mitzvoth is one of the three central elements in the conversion process. It is clear that any attempt to circumvent halakha by accepting converts with no acceptance of mitzvoth is a distortion of halakha and will not succeed.

“Acceptance of mitzvoth” means accepting the fundamentals of Judaism. It is not simply a commitment to fulfill the mitzvoth. Its full meaning is a desire to be a Jew with all the implications that accompany the fact that the convert will now be called a Jew. This desire must manifest itself with the acceptance of mitzvoth, which testifies to the transformation that occurs within the convert. From the moment of the conversion and onward, the convert must behave like a Jew and feel connected to the Jewish people. However, we can assume that just as among those who are born Jewish, there are the more righteous, the average, and others, so, too, among converts there will be many types.

There can be no policy or process of conversion that skips over the step of “acceptance of mitzvoth.” According to all halakhic opinions, the convert must accept the mitzvoth. Therefore, it is impossible to issue a halakhic decision that a Jewish court should carry out conversions without an acceptance of mitzvoth—something I have been charged with by those who oppose me. After we tell the convert some of the mitzvoth imposed on a Jew along with the significance of the responsibility involved with conversion, he or she must verbally accept the mitzvoth taught without any reservations. If the individual says that he or she is not prepared to accept even one mitzvah then we do not accept that person as a convert. This is agreed to by all halakhic authorities without dispute.

On the other hand, the halakhic authorities agree (see Shulhan Arukh Yoreh Deah 268:12) that, ex post facto, if a Jewish court converted someone without teaching him any mitzvoth, but he was circumcised and went into the mikvah in order to become a Jew, then he is a convert. All halakhic authorities also agree that if the convert reverts back to his earlier behavior and does not fulfill mitzvoth, he is still considered to be a Jew and his post-conversion marriage is counted as a halakhic marriage. A return to his old way of life does not undo his conversion, even if it happens immediately after the conversion (Responsa Rashbatz 3:47).

Given all of the above, what is the debate? It revolves around a person who comes to convert according to halakha, but it appears that the person’s post-conversion lifestyle is not one of mitzvah observance. Some argue that this demonstrates that when the person declared that he or she would accept mitzvoth in front of the Jewish court, this was not a real acceptance since there was never the full intention to observe all the mitzvoth. They go even further and claim that a court that accepts a candidate of this kind and converts him has collaborated in this wrongdoing. In their opinion, the fact that both sides knew beforehand that the convert would not observe all mitzvoth means that the convert’s words were empty of meaning and this court has, de facto, performed a conversion without an acceptance of mitzvoth.

In my book, Zera Yisrael, I wrote against this approach at great length and proved that all we require from the convert is a verbal acceptance of the mitzvoth without any qualifications. If, after hearing the mitzvoth, one accepts them along with an honest expression of one’s desire to be a Jew and to become part of the “inheritance of God” and endure sufferings that may afflict the Jewish people, that person is absolutely to be considered a person who has “accepted the mitzvoth.” After these things have been done, there is no place, according to halakha, to test the person’s intentions or for the court to make sure that this person plans to observe mitzvoth in the future. There is simply no such concept in halakha. Therefore, we can establish definitively that even if an individual is lacking in mitzvoth observance in practice, this does not detract from his acceptance of mitzvoth, and that individual is still considered to be a valid convert.

I brought decisive and clear proofs in my books mentioned above—reinforced by quotations from well-known halakhic authorities who wrote as such explicitly. Even more importantly, though, is that this has been the practice of the rabbinic courts of the Sephardic sages throughout the generations as well as the widespread practice of the Israeli Chief Rabbinate in former years. It is true that other opinions have become adopted in recent years as if they were the decisive and unanimous perspective but this is definitely not the truth, not correct, and not the halakha. Rav Ovadiah Yosef explained in an interview in the following manner (Monthly of the Religious Council of Tel Aviv-Jaffa 5729): “If the convert has a reasonable knowledge of Judaism and there is a likely chance that he will fulfill the mitzvoth, then we accept him.”

It is difficult to qualify precisely the level of observance that a convert must accept. However, in order to build a general picture of the character of the convert, I will mention a few central and important items. As already mentioned, the court must be convinced that the candidate accepts the following upon himself: faith in God, distancing from all forms and any hint of idolatry including the trinity of Christianity, as well as all three cardinal sins—idolatry, adultery, and murder; observance of the seven Laws of Noah; minimal observance of traditional mitzvoth such as Kiddush on Shabbat, fasting on Yom Kippur, refraining from hametz on Pessah, and similar practices. These are the most important elements that constitute the foundations of the religion and are not difficult even for a person who is just taking his first steps of living in a Jewish lifestyle. In general, it can be said that Jews who call themselves “traditional” fulfill these mitzvoth.

Conversion in Order to Be Traditional

The often used term “traditional” (masorati) has broad connotations. I have met people who, on the one hand, observe the Shabbat, put on tefillin, pray three times a day on a semi-regular basis, set aside time for Torah study, love Torah, and support the maintenance of Torah institutions, while on the other hand walk around without head covering, do not recite blessings on food at all times, and their wives dress immodestly and do not cover their hair. Many good people accept donations from these people without saying a negative word about them. Rather, they bring them close and praise them; and I have seen that in the end, they and their wives often end up returning more completely to religious observance. There are other masoratim who observe Torah and mitzvoth when it is convenient for them, they pray from time to time, and observe the Jewish holidays, yet they stumble regarding Shabbat desecration because they think that Shabbat desecration only refers to kindling a fire; they allow themselves to carry items in public areas lacking an eruv and transgress other Torah prohibitions. It is possible to broaden the scope of the meaning of being a “traditional” Jew a great deal. Since this term is very general and defines any person who observes some mitzvoth, every Jew is simply “traditional” since, as King Solomon teaches, “For there is not a just man upon earth who does good and does not sin” (Ecclesiastes 7:20).

It is known that the Jewish sages of Morocco took a lenient approach on many halakhic issues, and this was also true regarding conversion. The wise people and rabbis of our time are no greater than the sages of Morocco in their Torah scholarship and certainly not in their pure fear of God which avoided any pursuit of money, fame, or honor. Similarly, their fear of God was not embedded in ideological struggles such as Zionism and anti-Zionism and all the wasteful things that were imported here from Europe and came to embroil those who study Torah today. Those sages saw things with a scrutinizing eye and were farsighted for the betterment of the nation. They understood that in the matter of conversion, for the most part we need a policy in which “the left pushes away while more prominently the right brings close” with the “right” always being preferable to the “left.”

This is not the platform for a psychological study that will demonstrate that the moderate approach of the North African sages undermined those who wanted to destroy our religion. In fact, this is why movements and phenomena such as Reform and Conservatism never took hold in North Africa even during times when the Jewish situation was not good, to put it mildly, due to the Enlightenment. The assimilation-inducing ideas of Europe never overwhelmed the lands of North Africa. The great rabbis in their wisdom and spirit of gentleness made bridges connecting all the elements of the nation. The phenomenon of heresy as a revolt and an extreme militancy against Judaism did not exist there—even among those who were distanced from Judaism.

It is possible that the rabbis in Europe had no choice but to wage a strong battle against heresy to the point where any change was considered flawed and every leniency was suspected as having a spirit of deterioration. This captures the spirit of the well-known saying of the Hatam Sofer that “anything new is prohibited according to the Torah” (playing on the halakha that “new” grain that is called “hadash” is prohibited until the 16th of Nisan). Nevertheless, it is possible to suggest that with all this safekeeping of those who were faithful to our tradition, there were those who could not find their place within tradition and left the fold. They quickly felt themselves outside the framework and, often, opposite it, something that never existed in North Africa.

It is even more likely that the approach of the Sephardic Sages to conversion and to converts—and the fact that they did not place it on the public agenda because of their approach to Judaism—is what led to a lack of problems. Conversion situations were dealt with quietly without checking too much into the qualities of the convert and his intentions in areas where privacy is best.

In light of all this and in tandem with all that I wrote in my book, it is clear that it is permissible to convert the IDF soldiers, especially when the court insists that they observe the laws of kashruth, the prohibition of easting hametz on Pessah, fasting on Yom Kippur, making Kiddush on Shabbat, wearing tefillin and, of course, staying away from their earlier religion and faith. All this serves to create a broad base and a good chance that at a future time they will achieve complete and total observance.

Therefore, it is understood that someone who converts just to be "traditional," but has no plans to return to his previous faith in any way and he just wants the title "Jew," is not considered to be tricking the court. It is actually the opposite since he is telling the truth. This is unlike those who make great declarations and promises but then, in the end, keep nothing, or who attempt to fool the court in order to convert for some personal benefit.

It is important to distinguish between the approach to conversion that I have been advocating and what people call "social conversion" or "conversion to become Israeli." Recently, we have begun to hear loud voices who want to see conversions in a social context with a complete removal of any halakhic dimension. In their opinion, it is enough that the convert integrates into Israeli society to transform him into a Jew. This opinion views Judaism only as a nation and completely ignores the religious element. I want to reiterate and emphasize that there can be no valid halakhic opinion that says that there is no need for an acceptance of mitzvoth. Acceptance of mitzvoth is an inseparable component of the conversion process since Judaism is both a nation and a religion. Being Jewish is to be part of the Jewish nation and to be subject to the halakha of the Jewish religion.

The halakha does not expect that immediately upon conversion the convert will instantly be transformed into a person who observes all 613 mitzvoth. But, on the other hand, both heart and mind prevent us from accepting into the Jewish people a person who has no element of the acceptance of the religion's mitzvoth and customs. Our sages understood throughout the generations that we must give a person time to change his and his family’s lifestyles and to become accustomed to fulfilling all the mitzvoth over time. Therefore, they established clear guidelines for the conversion process in the spirit of the teaching of Solomon, the wisest of all men, that “there is not a just man upon earth who does good and does not sin” (Ecclesiastes 7:20).

Invalidating a Conversion

When a candidate for conversion is prepared to completely accept the responsibility of mitzvoth, but the court doubts the quality of that acceptance, the final decision regarding this complicated issue is given over completely to the court. The court is permitted to decide whether or not to allow this person entry to the Jewish nation and to convert him based on how the details appear to it at the time and based on its assessment at that moment. This decision is built into the halakhic laws of conversion.

The decision to allow a conversion can be made for many reasons including the fact that the person is already married to a Jewish woman. The best reason, of course, is that the candidate for conversion demonstrates complete faith and willingness to fulfill all the mitzvoth. Or, the court can decide the exact opposite, that even if the candidate will perform all mitzvoth he will somehow cause problems for the Jewish people and therefore must be rejected. Rav Ovadiah Yosef explained to the Knesset Internal Affairs Committee (November 16, 1976) that

Once the decision is made and the conversion takes place by a proper Jewish court with circumcision, immersion in the mivkah and an acceptance of mitzvoth, then the person becomes a Jew. This act cannot be overturned and, as the Gemara in Yebamoth teaches, "He is like a Jew in all matters. If he marries a woman, the marriage is valid.”

Such a conversion cannot be nullified retroactively. The court cannot say ex post facto that we were wrong to accept this person. A conversion can only be nullified if it becomes clear that there was a qualitative flaw in the actual act of conversion, such as a lack of three qualified witnesses at the time of the conversion, omission of the circumcision, a flaw in the circumcision, immersing in an invalid mikvah, dipping only part of the body in the mikvah, or no one witnessing his mikvah immersion. In such situations the conversion is not being nullified, since it was never actually performed properly. Perhaps it would be best to simply explain it this way: It is possible for there to be a non-conversion, but it is impossible to nullify or uproot a conversion.

The implication of nullifying a conversion, when the convert is found not to be fully observant of Torah and mitzvoth, is very troubling and has severe ramifications. For example, if we are dealing with a married woman, the decision transforms her from a halakhically married woman to a non-Jewish woman. A non-Jewish woman does not need a get (divorce bill) to separate from her Jewish husband. Indeed, according to halakha she was never actually his wife (despite the fact that they lived together as husband and wife and had children together). Even in a situation of an agunah (a woman whose marital status is unknown) the Medieval commentators (Responsa Rashba 1:1,162) have written that “once she converts she converts” and we cannot free her from this marriage without a get. When there are difficult agunah questions or attempts to legitimize mamzerim, the court will try to solve the problem by proving that there was actually no conversion and that the flaw was in the process itself. However, nullifying a conversion that was performed according to the halakha is not possible. A person who does so is making a mistake in Torah law, allowing a halakhically married woman to remarry without a get, and causes an increase in mamzerim in Israel.

The widespread mistake in our time of nullifying conversions stems from an incorrect understanding of the concept of “acceptance of mitzvoth” and the meaning of the teaching that “lack of acceptance of mitzvoth hinders conversions.” The broad range given to the court at the time of accepting the conversion does not exist after the conversion has been performed. Even if the convert reverts to his old ways, he is judged like a rebellious Jew but remains a Jew. As the Chief Rabbi Rav Odaviah Yosef said, “One can enter Judaism but not exit it.” (Protocol of the Constitution, Law, and Justice Committee December 1, 1976) The halakha does not demand that the convert be an expert in the entire Torah and all the mitzvoth and does not even demand that the judge be convinced that the convert will be as strict in lighter mitzvoth as with the stringent ones. The decision to accept or reject a potential convert is left to the court.

Even if the judge makes a mistake in his assessment, this does not undermine his ruling; therefore, once the person converts according to the law, he is a Jew.

What Can Be Done?

In writing my book, Zera Yisrael, I invested a great deal of thought and made the utmost efforts to uphold the truths of halakha. The ideas in the book were also brought before Torah sages so they could offer their opinions. Through discussions with them the words were carefully chosen and put into print. As a summary of the book’s content, I underscored four important points regarding conversion as agreed upon by a majority of halakhic authorities:

1) The convert must accept the responsibility of mitzvoth.

2) It must be clear that the potential convert’s true intention is to be a Jew with belief in the unity of God, the prohibition of idolatry, a rejection and distancing from his or her previous faith, and accepting some of the lighter and stricter mitzvoth that the court presents.

3) It is not necessary to know at the time of the conversion that a potential convert plans to observe everything, nor does the convert need to explicitly commit to complete observance.

4) If it is evident that that the potential convert has no intention to observe mitzvoth (for example, if one lives on a secular kibbutz where one will continue to desecrate the Shabbat, eat non-Kosher food, eat hametz on Pessah, and live exactly as one did prior to the conversion), then that person cannot be converted.

These are the points that must be adopted by anyone involved in conversion in the State of Israel. Establishing the process of conversion in the State of Israel based on these points will provide a solution to the conversion problems of the vast majority of the immigrants of zera yisrael who want to convert. For this to occur, we need a strong and courageous Chief Rabbinate that seeks a path to solve the problems that lay at its doorstep.

Without wishing to cause fear or panic, I firmly believe that if we do not follow the lenient path provided by halakha (in the spirit of our sages, who taught that “the power to make things permissible is better,” Gittin 41b), then we will be faced with innumerable problems relating to Jewish identity, marriage, and divorce.

During the past several decades, policies on conversion have become highly publicized in the media. Rabbis and judges who espouse the lenient view are subjected to severe pressures from those who take a stringent view. Many who favor the lenient position become intimidated, and choose not to oppose the needlessly stringent policies that have gained credence within much of the rabbinic community. It is a fact that many of these rabbis lack the courage to stand up against the rabbinical, political, and media apparatus of the strict camp; therefore, most of them simply fall in line and remain silent.

A situation of this kind is inimical to the interests of the Torah world. Halakhic disputes must never devolve into antagonisms between people, political parties, or ideologies. Abstaining from conveying a halakhic opinion from fear of “what will they say?” goes against the philosophy of the Torah and halakha. Our Sages (Sanedrin 7a) interpreted the verse “you shall not be afraid of the face of man” (Deuteronomy 1:17) to mean, “do not hold back your words from any person.” To withhold one’s halakhic opinion, or to intimidate another to withhold his opinion, border on hilul Hashem—a desecration of God’s name.

Great thought, passion, and a feeling of a religious mission are required to fight this holy battle. One must follow the teaching that “let the weak say, I am strong” (Joel 3:10) and “in a place where there is no man strive to be a man” (Avot 2:5) and raise a true and clear voice without fear. This voice is based on the trustworthy foundations of the great medieval and modern commentators and on the continuous flow of halakhic decisions of the great teachers in later generations.

***
Rav Ovadiah Yosef’s decision was recently publicized that according to halakha, IDF conversions are valid. This also emerges explicitly from the words of Rav Ovadiah Yosef in the protocol of the Knesset Internal Affairs Committee in 1976, which I quote in my book (and excerpts of which appear at the end of this article). Nevertheless, the Lithuanian rabbis and judges argued against me saying that I distorted the sources. However, since it is clear beyond any doubt that Rav Ovadiah recognizes the validity of the IDF conversions, this confirms my thesis that according to halakha the definition of “acceptance of mitzvoth” is not immediate fulfillment of all the mitzvoth as my critics have argued. “Acceptance of mitzvoth” entails informing the candidate for conversion of the mitzvoth and his general acceptance of them without reservations. Once the court is convinced that his intentions are sincere and he is converted, the conversion can never be nullified.

Rav Ovadiah’s halakhic opinion that permits the IDF conversions was cause for great happiness for me, first and foremost for the sake of the soldiers themselves, who finally merited to be recognized as Jews. Beyond this, I am happy that, after the many attacks against me, my words and halakhic opinion were strengthened by the recognition and sweeping agreement of the greatest halakhic authority of our generation. I pray and hope that this decision will lead to the necessary change in approach regarding the conversion issue, and that we will merit the coming of the redeemer to Zion, speedily in our days, Amen.

Summary

This essay has raised the following basic points:

1) According to most early halakhic authorities, not informing the convert about the mitzvoth or his not accepting the mitzvoth do not nullify the conversion retroactively.

2) Even according to the opinion that this does nullify the conversion retroactively, the conversion is not conditional upon his actual fulfillment of the mitzvoth in practice.

3) That same opinion only requires an awareness that the convert will fulfill some of the mitzvoth after conversion.

4) We should be lenient with regard to conversions of non-Jews who live in Israel, are involved in Jewish society, speak Hebrew, and who will choose to marry Jews. Such candidates for conversion should only be required to go through those aspects of the conversion process that are absolutely mandatory and whose omission would invalidate the conversion.

5) All the more so, must we be lenient with the conversions of those who have Jewish roots, as is the case with the overwhelming majority of immigrants from the former Soviet Union who received Israeli citizenship and who are in the halakhic category of zera yisrael.

6) The court that arranges the conversions must be composed of Torah scholars who will oversee the conversion according to Jewish law. The conversions are valid even if done in the presence of three laymen, as long as they fulfilled all the necessary steps in the conversion process.

7) These conclusions are written based on the opinion of most earlier and later halakhic authorities. The full discussion and actual sources are found in my published volumes on this topic.

8) The tradition of the Israeli Chief Rabbinate has historically been to deal leniently in this era of the ingathering of the exiles. They did not check up on converts to determine if they were fulfilling the mitzvoth or not; as long as candidates for conversion demonstrated the wish to be Jewish and the judges were convinced of their sincerity, the conversions were performed without hesitation.

The Eight Knesset
Fourth Sitting

Protocol No. 230
Of the Internal Affairs and Environment Committee
Tuesday, 23 Cheshvan 5737—November16 , 1976, 8:30 AM
(Excerpts from the testimony of Chief Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef)

Agenda: Establishing a National Rabbinic Court for Conversions

Chief Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef:

The concept of conversion, according to our Torah, is an absolutely positive act. Our Sages viewed it positively, as well. The Gemara in Sanhedrin (99b) relates that Timna came to our forefathers to convert and they refused to accept her. She sincerely wanted to convert, and our forefathers who refused to accept her were punished in that Amalek emerged from her descendants.

Our Sages teach (Pesahim 87b) that the Children of Israel were exiled among the nations just to enable converts to join them. Similarly, Baba Kama (38b) teaches that God commanded Moshe Rabbeinu not to kill the descendants of Ammon and Moab because, in the future, two converts to Israel would come from them—Ruth, the Moabite, and Naama, the Ammonite.

These sources demonstrate clearly that the Torah views conversion in a positive manner. The Torah, itself, added the mitzvah to “love a convert” (Devarim 10:9) over and above the general mitzvah to “love your neighbor as yourself” (vaYikra 19:18).

How, then, do we reconcile this with the teaching that “converts are difficult to Israel like a disease” (Yebamoth 109b)? The clear answer is that when a non-Jew converts for the sake of Heaven, out of love for the Torah and the Jewish people, it is a positive act. However, those who convert to benefit from the high standing of the Jewish people during our better times (ibid., 24b) or just to be able to marry a Jew (ibid.) are both “difficult to Israel like a disease.”
Thus, when a person wishes to convert, we first try to distance him. We say, “You see the Jewish people are looked down upon by the nations. Why would you want this?” (ibid., 47a) But if he persists, we accept him. This is what happened with Ruth, the Moabite. At first, Naomi said to her, “Go back to your nation,” but then she saw that Ruth was persistent and she stopped speaking to her in that manner. Her persistence was a sign that she wanted to convert for the sake of Heaven. (ibid., 47b and 109b)

There is a difference in our generation regarding how we deal with a person who converts for the sake of marriage. The rabbinic leadership has awakened to a new development. In the past, people married within their own nations. A non-Jewish man could not simply marry a Jewish woman nor could a Jewish man marry a non-Jewish woman. All kept to their traditions. It is only in recent generations, in light of the development of democracy and free rights, that people can do whatever they wish. And if they don’t get married according to the Torah’s laws they will continue to live together as husband and wife anyway. When a Jewish man is living with a non-Jewish woman and she then comes to convert, we view the situation in the following manner:

Even if the only reason for converting is marriage and they are already living together, the request to convert is for the sake of Heaven. This is a positive development.

The Torah giants in recent generations have disagreed about this question. Many Ashkenazi rabbis such as Rabbi Shimon Greenfeld of Hungary, Rav Weiss from Czernowitz, and others were stricter over this matter. However, many rabbis led by Rabbi Shlomo Kluger of Galitzia allowed these conversions for the reason outlined above. A similar decision was issued by Rabbi Yaakov Shaul Elyachar in his book, Yisa Ish, (Even HaEzer 7) and also from the rabbis in Egypt such as Eliyahu Hazan, HaRav Yosef Mashash, and others. Rabbi Uziel, in his book, Mishpetei Uziel, (9:20) also allowed these conversions because of the development that I mentioned.
In practice, most rabbinic judges today accept this change and, therefore, even when they know that a woman who is coming to convert is doing so for the sake of marriage, they accept her. However, there are some who choose to follow the rabbis who forbade this and they refuse to accept these prospects. They are also aware of the new developments but still cannot accept this. When a non-Jewish woman comes to receive authorization from the Jewish religion when she is already living with him as a wife, they view this as converting for marriage and not out of a love of Torah. So, she is not looking to convert for the sake of Heaven but, rather, it is for marriage purposes. But those who allow such conversions don’t investigate motivations too much and lean towards leniency. In practice, as I said, most rabbinic judges take the mitigating circumstances into account and allow these conversions. Just a small number refuse this and we cannot force a judge to decide one way or the other.

Disputes always existed between Bet Shamai and Bet Hillel with one being strict and the other more lenient. This is the foundation for the reality that certain rabbinic courts are strict while others are lenient.

An additional point: Even those who are lenient and hold that the issue of marriage should not prevent a conversion today, it still must be clear that when a person comes to convert, it must be a true conversion. He has to genuinely accept the yoke of Torah and mitzvoth (commandments). If a convert comes and declares, “I believe in the entire Torah except for one particular mitzvah that I do not accept,” it is forbidden to convert him unless he verbally accepts the entire Torah—Written and Oral. But, we do take into account that it is possible that as of now he has not yet tasted the taste of Torah and he does not know it but over time he will learn more and will repent.

The Talmud in Shabbat (31a) teaches that “a person should strive to be yielding like Hillel and not picky like Shammai.” When a person comes to convert, it could be that his original intentions are not for the sake of Heaven. However, “from ulterior motives it is eventually done for the right reasons” (Pesahim 50b) and, therefore, we accept him.

All of the above leads to the following conclusion. When a person appears before a rabbinic court for conversion, the more experienced the court, the more it can truly understand the ultimate intentions of that person and whether he will observe mitzvoth in the end or not. And it is not possible for every judge to make this type of assessment.

The rules above serve as the basis for the opinion regarding a potential convert who the rabbinic court assesses is not yet ready for conversion and tells him to come back at a later time since he may be more ready by then. That is to say, the guiding principle is that “the left hand pushes away while the right hand brings close” (Sotah 47b). The pushing away is not done out of harshness.

I have been overseeing various rabbinic courts for over 25 years. I began in Petah Tikva, then for seven years in Jerusalem, then in the Supreme rabbinic court in Jerusalem, and then Tel Aviv until I was chosen as the Chief Rabbi of Israel. In all of my dealings with my colleagues in the rabbinic courts I have seen that this is their approach. It could be that my good fortune was to be with rabbinic courts that were not strict. Whenever we saw the possibility of accepting someone, we did so with open arms. And the truth is, whenever I accepted a convert who I saw we could accept with open arms, I had great spiritual satisfaction and great happiness. When we know that we are doing pure work, not only do we not push away converts but we rejoice greatly over them. Only when there is significant doubt that perhaps the person will be a failure or will harm the nation do we push him away.

When I was deputy Chief Rabbi and head of the rabbinic court in Egypt over 30 years ago, a married couple came before us. We discovered that the man had converted and married this Jewish woman but then he reverted back to his former religion and became a priest. When we pleaded with him that he give his wife a Get (divorce document) so that she should not remain an aguna (bound to him and not able to remarry), he responded that it is not honorable for him, while wearing the clothing of a priest, to give his wife a Get. Only after great effort did he agree to come to me to give her a Get. Many mishaps like this one can occur where after the man fulfills his goals with the woman he desires, he returns to his old ways and will leave her helpless. The Gemara (Yebamoth 47b) states that “even if he reverts to his old ways, he is judged like a rebellious Jew.” We do not nullify his conversion. Rather, when he converted, he did so with good intentions and only afterwards he rejected the yoke of Heaven.

Now we can deal with the question of whether to establish a national rabbinic conversion court or not. When I was Chief Rabbi three and a half years ago, I voted for the establishment of such a court. When I was the head of the rabbinic court in Tel Aviv I, myself, dealt with many cases that could not be solved in the different rabbinic courts so I assembled what people mistakenly labeled a “field court” (because it was a lenient court). I invited Rabbi Eliezer Hagar, the general secretary of the Chief Rabbinate of Tel Aviv, and Rabbi Zohar and Rabbi Moshe Mizrachi joined him. I called Rabbi Hagar and his colleagues and said to them: “There are many problems for which solutions were not found in the regional rabbinic courts. I charge you to deal with them.” Some background: The rabbinic court itself does not make the conversion happen, it simply decides if the conversion should go forward. After they decide that it should move forward, they bring 3 people from the Torah scholars in the secretariat and they convert the person.

That is how it was done in Jerusalem, Petah Tikva, and Tel Aviv. And that is what I did here. I told these men: “I deal with many cases in an exclusive manner and you make the conversion happen.” They don’t decide; they just carry it out. In the beginning of 5729 (fall of 1968) I became the Chief Rabbi of Israel. Rabbi Goren began his term after me, in Tamuz 5729 (summer of 1972), because he was still in the IDF. Even then, I did not have anyone to make the conversion happen. So, I thought: Better to establish a national court here in Jerusalem and it will help me carry out the conversions. Therefore, I voted then for a national conversion court.

Over time, I have come to recognize that there is no need for this. When someone comes before me and we need to convert him—and there are many difficult situations where we cannot delay and in the rabbinic courts it could take many months to get to a conversion, or when the woman who wants to convert is pregnant, etc.—I accept that person and decide to convert him. Who will make the conversion happen? Many times I have turned to the secretariat of the rabbinic court in Jerusalem or to Rabbi Hagar who I know well from Tel Aviv, and I place this upon them, depending on where the candidate lives. I send the rabbi a note: “Please convert this person,” and they do it. So, I have come to understand that establishing a national rabbinic court for conversions is not necessary for this purpose.

In principle, I am not against the establishment of a national conversion court. I see nothing inherently bad about it. However, I have concerns and the problems have to be looked at from all perspectives. When a court like this is established it must be true to its name and capable of fulfilling its mission. The three people who work for me today simply carry out conversions based on the directive they are given but I don’t know if they are qualified to decide on their own who is worthy of conversion and who is not. Today, we have around ten men who are certified by the Chief Rabbinate who hope to become rabbinic judges. If we take three of them and establish a national conversion court, these would be new judges, lacking experience. And I know this from personal experience. In 5707 (1946–1947) I was chosen to head the rabbinic court in Cairo. I know how much doubt I had regarding every candidate for conversion whether to accept him or not. I know that new judges like these will not be able to decide. They will push many candidates away, the difficulties of the courts will remain, and what will have been accomplished?

Furthermore, when a case will come before a more experienced rabbinic court which is really overworked, knowing that there is a national conversion court the judges will say, “why should we bother with this conversion issue? We’ll send them to the special court.” This will cause problems and not blessings with all the waiting and dragging involved.

In my humble opinion, I don’t see any vital reason to establish a national conversion court. I always solved the pressing cases within a few days. For example, the rabbi of Kfar Saba, the rabbi of Dimona, and the rabbi of Nazareth Illit all came to me with pressing cases in which a date for a wedding was already set, etc. and it was discovered that the mother of the bride was not Jewish. In these situations I said, “Come to me and I will take care of it quickly,” and I did. However, I did not publicize this. We work very privately and don’t try to build our reputations on the account of these unfortunate people.

In the army, there is a rabbinic court connected to the army Chief Rabbinate. It is headed by Rabbi Peron and Rabbi Gad Navon. From the day that I became head of the Tel Aviv rabbinic court, they wanted a stamp of approval from a rabbinic leader that every conversion they do should be under my responsibility. I asked them: “Why don’t you turn to Rabbi Goren who serves with you all the time in the army?” They responded, “No, we want you.” I agreed. I accepted the responsibility. In the last year alone there have been 46 cases in the army rabbinate, aside from the conversions which I personally did over the past 40 years, and aside from the 70–80 Ethiopians who I converted according to halakha in Tel Aviv. I see this as my duty. And when I see that I did something according to the Torah—I am very happy and have great satisfaction. I don’t see this as something special but rather I am acting as an emissary of God.

And so, I don’t think there will be much trouble if there won’t be a national conversion court. When problems arise we always try to solve them. I cannot recall any situation which I could not solve. There may have been an isolated case here or there with a stubborn person who declares that he does not want to accept the burden of Torah and mitzvoth. This kind of person I, for sure, cannot convert. However even in such situations, I try to convince not only the convert, but also the convert’s spouse.

I want to reiterate: I am not doing favors for anyone. I am fulfilling my duty for the sake of Heaven. When I was the head of the rabbinic court in Tel Aviv, the first meeting I called with eight other heads of courts was on behalf of converts. I told them, “Please, don’t push them away. Do whatever you can for God’s sake to bring them close to prevent a desecration of God’s name in this regard.” We spoke frankly and in a friendly manner but despite this, there were challenging cases which they perceived as difficult and they did not want to accept many converts over a period of six years; but I accepted them. There was a story of an entire family, a mother with six children, and I accepted them. But it was all done quietly. Because of this, a national conversion court not only won’t help but it can actually cause harm. This is not because I am against it in principle; but if you want to have a national conversion court you must choose among veteran judges with experience and not from among the new judges who are afraid of making new decisions.

Not too long ago, a Jew from Sao Paulo came to me. There is a big dispute there regarding whether to accept converts or not. When I was there a year ago, they solved the problem. I said: “If you see that their intentions are proper then convert them. If there are more difficult scenarios, send them to Israel and I will solve them. You will teach the person the laws of Judaism and then grant him certification that he learned the laws and I will convert him.” On Friday a woman from Sao Paulo came to me with the certification and I converted her yesterday. (within just five days!) This is not a “field court,” but a body that takes action.

Three months ago there was a scenario in Dimona. The Chief Rabbi there came to me and said that a woman came to register for marriage. They had already set a date and booked the hall when they suddenly discovered that her mother was not Jewish. The rabbi said that if he sent the file to Be’er Sheva, it would take months. I said to him, “Send it to me” and within a few days I took care of the matter.

Knesset Member Be’eri said: “The rabbi, himself, mentioned that there were cases that were not dealt with for six years, a sign that something is not right.” I already said that the rabbinic court will not convert someone unless they are convinced that the person’s intention is to observe the mitzvoth in the future. When it is not convinced, it does not convert. The case of the six years was partly neglect caused by the candidate himself who did not listen to the rabbinic court, which requested that he go study the laws. But afterward, when he came and complained to me, the situation was solved. That case was an Arab man who married a Jewish woman and his sons were Jews according to our laws. The sons were believers who feared Heaven…. I had compassion for him. When I accepted him, I had great happiness. These situations occur, but this also is not the fault of the rabbis. All problems can be overcome with calm and pleasantness.

Regarding the question of the city rabbis—I beseech you, members of the Knesset: Do not allow an opening for corruption in the Rabbinate. This issue has been trusted to the national rabbinic courts for more than 50 years and this is how it has to remain. These are legal courts which the State has recognized and they received its approval for this. Even the Supreme Court agreed to this and stated that it was legal to establish that the rules made by the Chief Rabbinate together with the higher rabbinic courts are legally binding. Therefore, God forbid for you to consider giving permission to each local rabbi to do conversions whenever he decides to do so.

Regarding the question of why we don’t appoint people who will follow a more liberal path, it is impossible to know how a person will act in the future. Can I possibly know who will follow in my spirit and who will follow in the spirit of another? When I appoint someone to the national conversion court, I don’t know what will come of it. It could happen that a new judge will be lenient and a veteran judge will come to him and question how he could be lenient. The new judge will be frightened because he is new and afraid and he won’t want to deal with conversions anymore (even though he was correct to be lenient). Especially if a national conversion court will be established then other judges won’t want to deal with conversions.

For example: Eight years ago a special court for conversion was established in Jerusalem to make progress on the issue of conversions. This court was so extreme that it did not want to accept any converts. What will we gain from this if we establish a special conversion court that won’t convert anyone?

The Important Points that Emerge from This Protocol

1) Conversion is a positive act, and it is a merit to convert. When we accept converts, we do so with open arms.
2) When a man is already living with a non-Jewish woman as a couple (and certainly if they are already married by a civil court) and despite this she wants to convert, this is a sign that it is for the sake of Heaven.
3) Historically, most judges have acted this way, leaning toward leniency without investigating too much.
4) A potential convert who says that he cannot observe one law cannot be converted until he is willing to verbally accept the entire Torah. Even if he says that he is not accepting a mitzvah, there are arguments to explore his conversion.
5) If a convert reverts back to his old ways, he is viewed as a rebellious Jew. This teaches us that a conversion is never nullified.
6) Pressing cases can be solved in days, and there are almost no situations that cannot be solved.
7) There can be isolated incidents where an obstinate person declares outright that he does not want to accept Torah and mitzvoth, and in this situation we cannot convert him.
8) A conversion judge must be lenient and not afraid to make the difficult decisions.
9) The difficult situations which were not solved were technical, according to the rabbi, where there was no one to carry it out.
10) There has always been pressure from rabbis who are stricter on rabbis who are lenient to the point of causing fear and this is why they did not want to deal with conversions. But no one person has a monopoly on the Torah and the interpretation of halakha.

            I begin with the wisdom of the Talmud. In one of its most frequently quoted dicta (Baba Batra 12b), Rabbi Yohanan declares: “From the day of the Temple’s destruction, prophecy was taken from the prophets and given to fools and children.” In our times, some people have concluded that sociologists should be added to the fools and children. Perhaps this comes from the assumption that because we sociologists focus on the common wisdom and behavior of society—which increasingly is dominated by fools and children—we can somehow tease out from it some understanding of what the people are doing and thinking, and with that knowledge speculate about what they are likely to be doing and thinking in the future.

The Talmud of course was always interested in what the people were doing: “Go out and see what the people are saying” it urges (see, for example, Berakhot 45a and Eruvin 14b) those who want to know the connection between what the law requires and what people are accustomed and therefore likely to do. The Talmud is powerfully concerned with “amre inshe,” the voice of the people and what is on their minds; the phrase appears approximately 130 times in its pages. These considerations—what people do, say, and think—which have taken on halakhic or Judeo-legal status, are, of course, fundamentally and acutely social. Hence turning to sociologists, ethnographers or anthropologists for some understanding about social behavior and its vicissitudes may actually not be so far from what the rabbis of the Talmud advised. Asking sociologists to predict the future is based on the idea that what is likely to happen down the road is a result of what people are doing, saying, and thinking now. So, at least for this occasion, I accept this reasoning. To figure out the future of Orthodoxy, the new Orthodoxy, and how people might get there, I begin by looking at what Orthodox people are doing, saying, and thinking now.

To start, I want to invoke Gregory Treverton’s useful distinction between puzzles and mysteries.[1] Puzzles, he advises, come from having insufficient information. If you get what’s missing, the puzzle is solved. If things go wrong with a puzzle, it’s because we have the wrong piece or we put it in incorrectly. Mysteries are a lot murkier: Sometimes the information we’ve been given is inadequate; sometimes we aren’t very smart about making sense of what we’ve been given; and sometimes the question itself cannot be answered. Mysteries require judgments and the assessment of uncertainty; at times, the hard part is not that we have too little information but that we have too much, or that we are looking at matters the wrong way. Puzzles can ultimately be solved; they have answers. Puzzles can come to satisfying conclusions. Mysteries often don’t and offer no such comfort because they may pose a question that may have no definitive answer because the answer is contingent; it depends on a future interaction of many factors, known and unknown. A mystery cannot always be resolved; it can sometimes only be framed, by identifying the critical factors and applying some sense of how they have interacted in the past and might interact in the future. A mystery is an attempt to disambiguate ambiguities. And that is not always possible.

Much of what we know about Orthodoxy today seems to be a matter of putting together the puzzle, fitting in all the pieces of what it is in order to see the big picture of what people are doing, saying, and thinking. But other elements—why, for example, the Orthodox are doing all that they do or how and whether what they say has affected their thinking and behavior or vice versa, as well as how all that will play out in the future—are more of a mystery. Determining whether the forces that are affecting Orthodoxy come from within it or whether they reflect the impact of external cultural factors, some of which may be non-Jewish and part of the wider cultural context in which Orthodox Jews in particular and Jewry in general find themselves, is more of a mystery. Those mysteries are what make predictions about the future so fraught. But let us begin with the pieces of the puzzle.

The Triumph of Orthodoxy

Perhaps the most important piece is contemporary Orthodox triumphalism. In its beginnings, from at least the onset of the period of Jewish enlightenment and political emancipation, Orthodoxy, emerging as a reaction against various forms of reform and change, saw itself as an often vulnerable and diminishing minority, and worried about its ability to survive and hold onto those raised according to its norms. Even though its adherents were certain that their interpretation of what was authentically Jewish was absolutely correct and in the long run were sure that they had the recipe for guaranteeing Jewish survival and therefore wanted to impose their beliefs and behaviors on all Jews, they were not always sure that in the foreseeable future they would be able to withstand the tides of change that were sweeping the Jewish people into the mainstreams of contemporary culture and it corrosive effects on Jewish singularity and culture. Indeed, the word “hareidim,” which we now associate with ultra- or extremist Orthodoxy, was once used for all Orthodox Jewry. It connoted “trembling anxiety,” a kind of abiding worry about the short-term survival of their way of life in spite of longer-term convictions of triumph. The anxiety was that Orthodoxy would have to retrieve all those who were lost to assimilation, and that that was an arduous and dangerous task, as retrievers were always at risk of themselves slipping away and their efforts extraordinarily complex, a view that many today in the Hareidi community believe are the risks facing Chabad, which is after all in the Jewish retrieval business. Although some believers were certain this retrieval of the lost would be one of the precursors of the messianic times (which may be why Chabad is so convinced they can succeed), others thought that time so vaguely distant that they remained Hareidi in the short term.

The idea that Orthodoxy, in spite of its conviction that it had a recipe for Jewish survival, might suffer losses in the short term was of course a fact of history. Many of those who made up the ranks of the Reform or other liberal religious movements as well as the secular, from the socialist Zionists to the pure skeptics, could trace their origins to Orthodoxy, and many came from Hasidic courts or the yeshiva world. When, for example, the Sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe was arrested by the Yevsektsiya, the Jewish affiliates of the Soviet Secret Police, he was led away by two former Lubavitcher Hasidim, and former yeshiva students made up many of the earliest socialist activists.

For much of the twentieth century, Orthodoxy seemed destined to be the form of Judaism one abandoned. From Ben Gurion to American sociologist Marshall Sklare, those who considered the likely future of Orthodoxy saw it as at best a residual category that would inevitably experience “institutional decay,” decline in numbers and confidence, and soon disappear.[2]

Even the Orthodox themselves betrayed a fear about their survival outside their European strongholds. When asked whether or not they should emigrate from Europe, where albeit in diminished form Orthodoxy still flourished, to America, the land of promise, or Palestine, the Promised Land, Orthodox leaders counseled against such a move, saying that both were places where Jews as individuals might survive but where Judaism, and in particular Orthodox Judaism, would die. We know now this counsel was tragically wrong. The Orthodox Jews who remained in Europe suffered decimation from Hitler’s Holocaust and Stalin’s purges, while in America and Israel Orthodoxy has reversed its decline and now virtually no one anymore argues that this form of Judaism will disappear. If anything, all the other religious movements seem in danger of disappearing while Orthodoxy, although radically changed from what it was in Europe, appears to be flourishing. In place of anxiety about its future, it seems extraordinarily triumphalist. Why?

The triumphalism comes from some remarkable successes of Orthodoxy beginning in the second half of the twentieth century, a time of economic boom and political stability that allowed it to grow. Among these successes is a powerful achievement in institution building. In the Diaspora, and particularly America, this has been in founding and maintaining synagogues. In the United States, almost 40 percent of the synagogues are Orthodox, and in the New York metropolitan area, where Orthodox Jews of all sorts make up more than 20 percent of the Jewish population and 32 percent of the Jewish households, that proportion rises to 57 percent.[3] Moreover, in America Orthodox Jews comprise one third of those Jews who describe themselves as “regular synagogue goers,” an attendance that is frequently daily. That pattern is repeated elsewhere in the Diaspora, while in Israel, that proportion is probably twice that or more. The birthrates of the Orthodox of all persuasions are higher than those of all other Jews, and their apparent ability to hold onto their offspring within the boundaries of Orthodoxy more than ever before (over 60%), moreover, suggests these proportions will grow into the foreseeable future.[4]

In addition, the Orthodox have created an educational system that includes both traditional yeshivas as well as the new-model Day Schools, which combine intensive Jewish learning with secular studies aimed at preparing students for university studies at a high level. In Israel this is paralleled by the yeshivas and the state religious public school (mamlakhti-dati) system. To these schools, beginning in the late 1960s with the founding of the Diaspora Yeshiva and later Ohr Somayach in 1970, were added the so-called ba’alei teshuva yeshivas for attracting Jews to Orthodoxy. Enrollment in all these schools has grown exponentially, and institutionally they remain one of the key instruments leading to Orthodox success in holding onto the young, a key element of future survival. Although the economic cost of these schools presents a daunting challenge, their importance is still recognized in the Orthodox world.

Supporting these is also a developed camp program, as well as increasing numbers of Israeli educational experiences for Diaspora Jews that have enhanced and often reinforced the synagogue and school. These camps operate not only in the summer but also during extended breaks in the school year. And the activities in them are Orthodox in form and content.

Although the staff in all these institutions has been changing, as have their goals and methods along with the financial burdens for supporting them, they, along with the many synagogues, have infused Orthodoxy with a confidence in its future and its ability to pass on its way of life that may be unrivaled in its history.

In addition, Orthodox Jews tend to live in areas of high Jewish density, generally in enclaves of the religiously like-minded, which gives them a sense of the ubiquitousness of an Orthodox lifestyle. This residential concentration synergistically acts to strengthen and intensify a sense of Orthodox identity and belonging. In the case of Hareidi Orthodoxy, people are so used to living in their enclaves that they often are unequipped to live anywhere else. In an open society, this socialization effectively prevents people from leaving the precincts of Orthodoxy, which in a mobile society they would otherwise be expected to do, thus reinforcing Orthodox solidarity into the foreseeable future.

When the more cosmopolitan Orthodox, the university graduates and professionals, have moved to the periphery of the Orthodox Jewish community (often for career or educational reasons), they have managed to do what few other Jews achieve: They transform the places into which they have moved rather becoming changed by them. Even when the Orthodox are outward-looking, they will not acquiesce to a diminished level of Jewish life, no matter where they live, and thus the movement of Orthodox Jews of all stripes into new locales has frequently promoted greater religious and ethnic participation in these places, and has attracted other Orthodox Jews to them. Orthodox Jews have been able to make areas of Jewish scarcity flourish by increasing its level of religious behavior and institutions. Once that happens, this tendency has led in recent years, especially among the Hareidi sector, not only to an effort to enhance Orthodoxy even more where they live but also to increasing intolerance toward those who do not share their lifestyle and values, an attitude the more modern Orthodox often try to downplay—though often their non-Orthodox neighbors do not recognize these efforts as genuine and therefore lump all Orthodox into a single group for whom they have little affection.

More and more, the Orthodox entry into a neighborhood has been met with a backlash of resistance to Orthodox residence by others in places where they seek to enter. There are a variety of strategies of opposition, often from other Jews, from denying the establishment of eruvs in the Diaspora to mass demonstrations against Hareidi norms and demands in Israeli communities. In residential movement, the triumphalism of the Orthodox has been redefined by its opponents as religious imposition of the sort commonly associated with fundamentalism. This tension is not likely to disappear anytime soon, as Orthodox Jews continue to insist on living with other Orthodox Jews like them.

In the domain of marriage and the family, the Orthodox also display triumphalism. In America, where intermarriage has been skyrocketing, the Orthodox proudly point to their difference: About nine in 10 of them are married to Jews (and commonly to Orthodox Jews), and of the relative few who have intermarried, a quarter have spouses who converted to Judaism (and were the rabbis more open to conversion, that number would probably rise). In their family life, the Orthodox maintain a high degree of stability, with a divorce rate that, although rising, remains far lower than the approximate 30 percent among other Jews and than in much of the rest of America. What holds true for America is largely the case in the rest of the Diaspora. In Israel, where the divorce rate is only about 15 percent, the Orthodox rate was reportedly rising, although still well below that of the non-Orthodox.[5] That stability, an accepted norm in a relatively conservative population that regards marriage as the ideal state, is likely to continue into the near term.

The Orthodox birthrate, surging during the last 25 years, remains on average somewhere between three to eight children per family (in the Hareidi sector the median household size is about six).[6] In Israel, demographers believe that by 2025, the Hareidi Orthodox sector alone will grow from 16 percent to 23 percent of the population. In a single year, according to a nurse at one hospital in the Lakewood, New Jersey, an area serving a Hareidi Orthodox population, 1,700 babies were born to 5,500 local families, yielding a rate of 358 births per thousand women. (The overall American rate is 65 births per thousand women.) Orthodox adults are younger on average than other American Jews, with more than half falling between the ages of 18 and 44. It does not take a prophet to discern the eventual impact of these trends. The Orthodox are the smallest of the three major denominations; in numbers, the Conservative and Reform movements far outstrip them. In America, however, they are the only group of Jews reproducing beyond replacement level. And that trend is growing, particularly in the Hareidi sector. While Jewry in general is aging, Orthodoxy is not.

In fact, the percentage of Orthodox Jews aged 18–29 is nearly double that in the 30–39 age group. In certain Hareidi enclaves, such as New Square or Kiryas Joel in New York, the median age is around 14. In America, among synagogue-affiliated Jews, the Orthodox have more children than any other group. In the UK, 3 out of 4 births of Jews are from Hareidi families. They are 17 percent of the total UK Jewish population, and in Greater Manchester about half of all Jewish children under five are Hareidi. What is true in America or the United Kingdom is even more so the case in Israel, where government subsidies have supported large families. If the Orthodox continue to retain the loyalties of their young people, as they have mostly done over the past 30 or 40 years, they will become an ever larger, more visible, and better represented part of the total community, and will be in a position to insist on a larger share of communal expenditures—as some Orthodox leaders are already doing.[7]

In the political domain, Orthodox Jews have risen to unprecedented levels of political power and influence both in local and national government, all without hiding their Jewish and religious commitments. Nowhere is this truer than in Israel, where Orthodox Jews hold important government posts and often the balance of power in coalition politics. But in America, and even in Russia, the Orthodox have found ways of exerting influence in spite of their relatively small numbers in relation to the general population. Long before the Orthodox Joseph Lieberman was nominated as a major party vice-presidential candidate, whenever politicians wanted to indicate their support for or from Diaspora Jews, they often had themselves photographed with Orthodox Jews, and preferably with ones with the longest beards and most stereotypical Hhareidi appearances.[8] In spite of the fact that Hareidim are still a minority among Jews, they have succeeded, with the help of politicians and the media, in making themselves icons of Jewry, and in the process enhanced their political influence, confidence, and triumphalism. As other Jews become indistinguishable from the mainstream, the Orthodox can be expected to increasingly make a claim to represent the ethnic and identifiably Jewish in the Diaspora.

Kosher food in its various incarnations is available nearly everywhere, and no airline can afford not to offer it, for the many Orthodox travelers. That ubiquity, as attested by the Kosherfest exposition in the New Jersey Meadowlands stadium with its more than 6,000 exhibitors, has also persuaded the Orthodox that their way of life is here to stay.

Although poorer as a class than all other Jews, in part because of their higher Jewish bill and larger families, Orthodox Jews have benefitted from the long period of sustained economic growth during the last 60 years in countries where they live, as well as from the welfare state, which in these places has in effect been the benefactor of last resort for the Orthodox, and they have learned how to manipulate the system for housing and food subsidies or even occasionally educational ones, as well as through laws that make charitable contributions to them tax deductions. Thus while poverty remains a concern in the most Hareidi areas (for example in Kiryas Joel, where Satmar Hasidim make up nearly all the residents, over half are on supplemental security income), it has not been enough to undermine the Orthodox way of life in these places.[9] On the contrary, it has sustained large family size and a lifestyle in which Torah learning has often become a full-time occupation. Nowhere has this become more the case than in Israel, where grants to large families and financial support for yeshivas are part of the government budget.

Orthodox Jews publish and own more sacred Jewish books (many in translation as well as the original) than ever before in their history. Most Orthodox Jews today have libraries that rival those owned by some of the most famous yeshivas of Europe.[10] Moreover, regular Torah study has become a common activity within Orthodoxy. The Daf Yomi has now become a regular feature of Orthodox life, and the recent siyum the largest ever. On the Internet, thousands of sites can be found that enable and coordinate such study, and these do not include the synagogue or corporate groups that meet daily for face-to-face learning or the telephone dial-a-daf.

In cyberspace, not only can one study Talmud, but Orthodoxy’s presence is ubiquitous. From askmoses.com (a Chabad site—one of thousands—that seeks to present itself as the voice of Moses and hence all of Judaism) to Kabbalah study at Zohar online, there is virtually no area of significance in Orthodox Jewish life that does not have a web address. For those seeking a place to pray, there is godaven.com. To find a Jewish study partner there is kehilla.org for those seeking a Lithuanian-style approach or yagdiltorah.org for someone looking for a Hasidic havruta. And if one wants a Russian speaker, there is toldot.ru. This expansion of Orthodoxy onto the web in effect has removed geographic limitations, so inherent to the enclave culture of Orthodoxy, as an obstacle to growth or the enhancement of a network of ties. This means that there are now more opportunities for Orthodox Jews to be in touch with one another, regardless of where they find themselves physically. That results in values, concerns and even behavior patterns that are not only more widely shared, but relationships that can transcend the limitations of space/time. Although Hareidim generally claim to spurn the openness of the Internet and would appear to be on the other side of the digital divide, they too have their own websites.

Of course YouTube and a variety of video sites allow anyone with a Smartphone and an Internet connection to participate in a Hasidic tish or wedding as well as to witness an Orthodox event. In one of my more prescient moments, I once predicted that the Lubavitcher Rebbe would be on re-runs after his demise, and indeed he is—so much so that some people, as noted in my latest book, The Rebbe, report recently having gone to a Farbrengen with the rebbe via a video, years after Menachem Mendel Schneerson’s physical death. Should the rabbis find a way to allow cyber-presence to be equivalent to physical presence, not only could Orthodox Jews study together in cyberspace, as they already do, but they could also worship together, listen to Torah being read in one place while they are present in another or answer amen to the lighting of Hanukkah candles in Israel while they are standing in Melbourne, Australia or Melbourne, Florida.

Together all this suggests that Orthodoxy is powerfully rooted in the modern world, in which Jewry finds itself and is likely to remain powerful and growing well into the current century. As for the economic future, particularly in the face of a downturn in the last couple of years and the possibility of a worldwide depression, one can only point to the fact that the poorest sectors of the Orthodox society are perhaps the most resistant to abandoning it, suggesting that Orthodox attachments, while not immune from financial considerations, are not completely dependent on the economic situation. Moreover, they have learned to make do with less and so unlike their more well-to-do non-Orthodox counterparts, they may know better how to weather economic hardship.

So confident and triumphalist has Orthodoxy become that Rabbi Norman Lamm, former head of Yeshiva University and an opinion leader in so-called Modern Orthodox circles, was quoted in 2009 predicting the demise of all non-Orthodox Jewish denominations (even though the “just Jews” non-denominational category remains today the fastest growing one). While I think this is unlikely, Orthodoxy goes into the first third of the twenty-century with an unprecedented confidence.

No doubt some of this is also a reflection of an increasingly conservative political atmosphere in those countries where Orthodox Jews find themselves in greatest numbers. In these places, liberal and progressive groups have been on the defensive for at least the last 30 years. Whether it is with the backing of evangelicals in the United States or conservative political forces elsewhere, the Orthodox often find their conservative lifestyles, family values, and political outlook in consonance with the conservatives in society, a factor that has added to their confidence that they will find a supportive environment and political landscape in which to root themselves.

Who Is Orthodox?

Given this sense of triumphalism propelling an assertive and confident Orthodoxy into the new century and growing over time for the reasons I have outlined, the question now increasingly has become which segment of Orthodoxy is responsible for this or who speaks for Orthodoxy? As this group of Jews has grown both in numbers and confidence, it has also grown in complexity, and within it there has emerged a contest over who will define its future based on who is controlling or responsible for its present. It is that contest, occasionally bitter but surely all-pervading, about which I have written in my book Sliding to the Right, that will play a role in determining what happens to Orthodoxy in the years ahead and I turn to it now.

Generally Orthodoxy has defined itself as a single group having two faces. One is outward-looking, engaging with the outside world in all its complexity, while maintaining fidelity to Orthodox faith and commitments. Although reflecting a belief that Orthodox religious behavior and customs are valuable and vital for Jewish continuity, it is unprepared to impose them on all Jewry but admits that other ways of living as a Jew are possible and in some cases even acceptable. It accepts the legitimacy of other Jewish denominations as well as the Zionist project and sees the State of Israel, though having religious meaning, as belonging to all its citizens regardless of the level of their Jewish observance or commitments. Indeed, many of its adherents even adopted the Sephardic pronunciation of Hebrew in prayer, study, and speech, in a tacit effort to identify with the State of Israel as representing what they believed was the authentic accent and sound of Hebrew. This Orthodoxy is generally tolerant and relatively pluralist in outlook, and its adherents see themselves as part of the modern world, and seek a life that while Jewishly committed is cosmopolitan and not totally bounded by Judaism. They view a university education as a desideratum and a professional career as valuable. They increasingly accept the idea of gender equality as both a fact of life and a moral value. Women are considered to have both a private and public role in Judaism, and also a place outside the home and community. While they see marriage based on personal choice and the family as normative and desirable, they tend to marry at a later age (in part because of their pursuit of a university education and professional career). Once married, they have more children than most non-Orthodox Jews, but still fewer than the other Orthodox. This comes both from their later marriage and the practice of some forms of birth control. As Orthodox Jews they are generally conservative in their worldview, but in comparison with other Orthodox Jews, they seem more liberal or progressive.

The other Orthodox face is assertively parochial, defined by those commonly called Hareidim, who are assertively inward-looking, creating all sorts of ideological and behavioral barriers to acculturation. They prefer to live, work, and socialize with those who are as or more Orthodox than them, a standard that is subject to continual recalibration and some debate. They view the outside world as seductive, its values toxic and patterns of behavior as dangerous, including and perhaps especially the university and its worldview. Their attitude toward other Jews is that they are lost if they do not accept Orthodoxy, and believe that where possible the Orthodox ways, as they understand them, should be offered, either by persuasion but if not then by imposition. Within their Orthodox culture, there are ongoing often bitter contests as to who best represents the authoritative version of what is proper behavior and beliefs. By and large they view the Zionist project with a jaundiced eye and seek to make Israel a place governed by their Hareidi point of view. As for their pronunciation of Hebrew, they reject the sound of modern Israeli Hebrew for prayer or study and increasingly adopt the accents of Lithuanian yeshivas or pre-war Polish Jewry as their own, as if to tacitly and aurally indicate that only in those places was Jewry authentic and the ideal sound of Jews to be heard. They have increasingly made gender separation a key element of their Orthodox identity, seeking to limit the mixing of the sexes not only in schools and synagogues but also in public places. They tend to have arranged marriages (or very short and pointed courtships) and wed at an earlier age. They have larger families than their counterparts, viewing any form of birth control as transgressive behavior. Women are expected to be sexually modest and hold traditional homemaker roles, although increasingly they are forced also to find work beyond the role of wife and mother. Paradoxically, Hareidim often place a greater burden on women to support and maintain the families, leading to an increased economic dependence on women than their modernist counterparts, and likely giving them more power in the years ahead.

As one observer has accurately noted: “While to an outsider all Hareidim may look alike—with their black coats, hats, and beards—the Hareidi community is as fractured as the Jewish community as a whole.” It is divided along Ashkenazic and Sephardic lines, Hasidic and non-Hasidic, moderates and extremists. Within the Hasidic community, too, there are multiple sects and sometimes even competing grand rebbes within the same sect.[11] These divisions have often led to various Hareidi sub-communities competing with each other for Orthodox leadership.

Some claim that only the most severe isolationism is truly Orthodox. Others try to negotiate some engagement with the outside, either for purposes of livelihood or in an effort to co-opt and use elements of the general culture instrumentally and only on their own terms. Still others are only interested in the outside world insofar as they can reach out and retrieve “lost souls” who are halakhically Jewish from it and bring them back to Jewish tradition (they are generally uninterested in converts to Judaism).

This contest within the Hareidi subculture has led, as the late Charles Liebman put it, to extremism as a religious norm, in which each group seeks to surpass its competitors in religious and behavioral demands, in its intolerance of other points of view, and in its desire to impose its ways upon Judaism in general and Orthodoxy in particular.[12] That contest can only be expected to intensify, as the young seek to outdo their elders.

Demographically, the cosmopolitan and outward-looking Orthodox outnumber their parochial counterparts; however, as I have argued elsewhere, the latter have in recent years become more assertive and confident that they alone are the voice of Orthodoxy. In part this is because most of the key institutions of Orthodoxy are progressively more under their control. Although the cosmopolitans have used their university education and outward tendencies to make headway in the general culture, entering fully into the professional class and making an impact beyond the provinces of religion, the latter often relegated to the private domain, the more parochial Orthodox have become religious school teachers, rabbis, religious court judges, scribes, mohels, certifiers of kashruth—in short, what sociologist Max Weber called “the religious virtuosi.”[13] As such, Orthodox Jewry is increasingly dependent upon them for their religious needs and therefore looks to them as authorities. Moreover, because one of the core principles of Orthodoxy is its reliance on rabbinical authority and its halakhic expertise, these religious virtuosi who dominate that world of authority have an institutionalized advantage in defining norms. Thus, for example, the Orthodox Jew who eats kosher must now adhere to a standard of kashruth determined by the parochial Hareidi authorities. If they change standards to be more restrictive, as they have, those who keep kosher are often forced to keep those new standards even if they do not necessarily feel a need to abide by such strictures since the Hareidim certify kashruth.

Given the structure of Orthodoxy and its dependence on institutions governed by Hareidim, one might confidently predict that this will increase the power and authority of the religious right wing in the movement. Even should the cosmopolitan and more liberal wing decide to infiltrate the rabbinate and these institutions—an unlikely prospect given the lower remuneration and prestige associated with these jobs and the fact that few would choose to pursue these vocations upon graduation from university—the training and socialization that those entering these vocations undergo would undoubtedly transform them in ways that would draw them away from their cosmopolitan origins and make them part of the Hareidi domain. That this would be the case is suggested by what has happened to many young Modern Orthodox men and women who have attended yeshivas in Israel or elsewhere during their post-high school years. The changes they have often undergone, as they become socialized to this life, have been called “flipping out” by some and hareidization by others.[14] Although not everyone who attended these institutions has moved to the religious right, those who come out of them and choose to become religious virtuosi generally have. This suggests that the opportunity to reverse this trend of dependence on an increasingly extremist, inward-looking, parochial, fundamentalist-like Orthodoxy is limited and unlikely to change in the foreseeable future.

The institutional impact is further affected by the expanding claims of authority by rabbis through the concept of da’as Torah, a conviction that one who is steeped in the wisdom and understanding of Jewish sources, “Torah,” becomes endowed with an intuitive understanding of its intent and its charismatic authority, da’as, such that he (and it is always a male, for in the Hareidi world women are not expected to be able to reach this level of knowledge) can expand the Torah to cover matters upon which it is silent. With da'as Torah rabbis deliver guidance beyond the judicial. As modern life throws all sorts of apparently unprecedented new realities that seem beyond the boundaries of the Torah into the basket of human experience, traditionalists use the concept and bearers of da'as Torah to fill the vacuum created by the seeming silence of the time-honored texts on many of these matters:

 For the talmid hakham [Torah scholar] is like the Torah itself and he is in its image, and

therefore it is certain that for this reason the Torah also commanded us to “not depart from all he will instruct you,” for the hakhamim [scholars] are the Torah itself, and as the Holy One, may He be blessed, decreed and gave the Torah to all of Israel, so he gave us the hakhamim and they are also the essence of the Torah.[15]

"My will," as Hasidic Rabbi Avraham Mordecai Alter of Gur put it even more starkly in a 1922 letter to his followers, "is the will of Heaven."[16] This sort of power, once limited to heads of yeshivas over their students and rebbes over their Hasidim, now has been asserted by all sorts of Hareidi leaders and often acknowledged by their followers. Indeed, the rabbi who has da’as Torah now has the power and authority to issue an ukase that in the minds of his followers has the authority of heaven.  Given this power, the limits on extremist or restrictive Orthodoxy seem likely to shrink in the years ahead. For example, is the Internet kosher, should women be allowed to drive cars, or does the Israeli state have religious significance? It is the ability “to interpret day-to-day events in a proper Torah light,” discern what tradition had in mind, and thereby extrapolate from it, thus being able “to anticipate the ramifications of events . . .in the future” that makes the rabbis’ opinions as authoritative as Torah.[17]

While one can imagine liberal rabbis and more cosmopolitan Orthodox chafing under these restrictions and endeavoring to challenge da’as Torah, this would require a political revolution that would force Orthodox Jews who are currently engaged by other interests and accomplishments to turn away from them and devote themselves to a full-time struggle to retake the rabbinate and its religious institutions, first in Israel and then throughout the Diaspora.

In the last 25 years, outward-looking Orthodoxy has indeed been mobilized to turn its attentions to parochial Jewish matters, but the matters they have become sometimes consumed by have to do primarily with religious Zionism, and the efforts to expand Jewish settlement in the biblical lands. That transformation, however, has not halted the slide to the right. If anything, it has gradually led to this Orthodoxy seeing itself in the same us-versus-them position as Hareidim. With each shift away from territorial expansion by the Israeli and Jewish body politic or withdrawal from settlements, those who have embraced settlement as an expression of their religiosity have become more oppositional and Jewishly inward-looking. This has led to an Orthodoxy often called “hardal,” an acronym for “hareidi-leumi” (nationalist Hareidi), that finds itself having more in common with the Hareidim than with their more cosmopolitan Orthodox counterparts. Extremism of one sort seems to lead to extremism of another. Jewish concerns as defined by the insiders become seen as the only important ones, and these views and the behavior associated with them considered paramount and legitimately imposed upon all people. This leads to greater parochialism and fundamentalist-like attitudes and behavior.

The Puzzle and the Mystery

Having thus put together all of the pieces of the puzzle in my possession, I see a future of a demographically increasing triumphalist Orthodoxy that becomes more inward-looking and less pluralist and tolerant, using all the technology and political power at its command to reinforce its increasingly extremist views and impose them as the dominant and only legitimate form of Orthodox Judaism—and in effect Judaism in general. But here’s the mystery. Why was this not always the face of Orthodoxy? Why was there ever a cosmopolitan, outward-looking, pluralist, and tolerant Orthodoxy, the so-called “Modern Orthodoxy,” and if it was dominant once can it become so once again? Is there a pendulum in the Orthodox world that swings between the outward- and inward-looking poles, or was the modernist phase simply a unique moment in time? There is no easy answer, but I would offer this hypothesis.

Orthodoxy was always viewed by its adherents as a strategy for Jewish survival, based on fidelity to law, custom, and powerful belief. The period of fast Jewish change in the twentieth century, characterized by mass migration from the old to new worlds, rapid assimilation, and the rise of an unexpectedly successful Zionist movement, coupled with the catastrophic experience of the Shoah, led to a period of doubt, instability, and confusion for the Orthodox. By the mid-twentieth century, many harbored doubts about the old ways and their ability to guarantee Jewish survival into the future. The failure of the advice of the rabbis and leaders who opposed emigration from the European centers of Orthodoxy to America or Palestine (and later Israel) was obvious and disorienting. The new situation of Jewry finding itself in a sovereign Jewish state or in a welcoming American society (as well in some other democracies) that allowed religious liberty and opportunity to taste of the outside world without necessarily sacrificing Orthodox allegiances led to many believing that the world was so changed that new ways of being Orthodox had to be created. Modern Orthodoxy was that new way, an Orthodoxy that believed that the secret of survival was compartmentalization, being a committed Jews but also standing with a foot in the outside world. But as they succeeded, they paradoxically created an atmosphere of confidence that would in time, as I have tried to sketch here, create the conditions in which the religious right wing would begin to emerge and warn that, in fact, this modernist, liberal strategy was not the right answer. While the Hareidi sector strengthened its hold on the institutions of Orthodoxy, the cosmopolitan sector became caught up in outward-looking, universal, and secular pursuits, even as it remained Orthodox institutionally. When Modern Orthodoxy was on the rise, the general culture was liberal. As during the 1960s and 1970s, liberal culture became radicalized, antinomian, and sometimes anarchic, doubts among the cosmopolitans about their strategy for Jewish survival emerged. In Israel, the Zionist project deteriorated into embourgeoisement and Israel became caught up in its own culture wars, political confusion, and doubts, while messianism and settlement building divided the society and confounded Orthodoxy.

In the face of rapid change, uncertainties, and confusion, the advantage is always to those groups who have absolute and extreme views. Driven by a confidence they know the truth, da’as Torah, they easily outflank those who see ambiguity and nuance. That is where I think Orthodoxy is today, driven by those who are Manichean and absolutist in their views. Where moderns see uncertainty in the future, those who are unambiguously certain they know the truth can gain control.

To be sure, outward-looking modernist and cosmopolitan Jewry has not altogether given up its struggle against creeping Hareidism. The emergence of Yeshivat Chovevei Torah and its new seminary for Orthodox rabbis, the selection of the cosmopolitan Richard Joel as head of Yeshiva University, the growth of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, the establishment of the International Rabbinic Fellowship (an association of Modern Orthodox rabbis), Bet Hillel in Israel, the development of minyanim of the Shira Hadasha model that endeavor to empower women as well as men in the leading of public prayer, and the ongoing commitment of many among the Orthodox to a liberal arts university education for their children are all signs of a resistance to the Hareidi model of Judaism and Jewishness. Whether they will grow or go the way of the now defunct Edah, an association that characterized itself by its motto, “the courage to be modern and Orthodox,” remains to be seen.

Of course, while all this goes on, liberal Jewish denominations are fading as Conservative and Reform movements find themselves losing members and aging, and most of the rest of Jewry sees itself as post-modern and post-denominational world citizens who are “just Jews” and not necessarily exclusively so, leaving even more room for the most inward-looking Orthodox to define not only Orthodoxy but Judaism in general. When asked how many Lubavitcher Hasidim there were in the world, the Lubavitcher Chaim Hodakov, answered” “how many Jews are there in the world?” Besides being a cute way to avoid giving a number (which is surprisingly small), he was in a sense saying, we see no difference between the Lubavitcher version of Judaism and Judaism in general. That is the dominant view in Hareidi Orthodoxy today.

Yet the Hareidi Orthodox attitude that suggests that everyone should and can mold him or herself to its conformist, Manichean, and conservative way of life disregards the uniqueness of the individual, the human desire for autonomy, and the I–Thou attitude that exists in human beings that allows them to accept otherness and encourages tolerance. An Orthodoxy that does not divide the world into us and them and does not hold the view that “you’re either with us or against us” may in time turn out to be an Orthodoxy that can serve as the vanguard on the road to a renewable and renewing Judaism that eschews reform without being wrapped in the straight-jacket of the past. Stay tuned.

Notes

It is a truism that with the Emancipation and the rise of Reform and, later, Conservative Judaism, options for halakhic flexibility became much more limited. In the midst of a battle against the non-Orthodox movements, traditional Judaism retreated into a conservative mold both as a means of distinguishing itself from the non-Orthodox and out of a fear that in an era of halakhic crisis, any liberality in halakhic decision-making could encourage non-Orthodox trends. This latter sentiment was always on the minds of halakhists, even those who did not adopt lock, stock, and barrel R. Moses Sofer's famous bon mot, "Anything new is forbidden by the Torah."

The above description is accurate, however, only with regard to the Ashkenazic world. The Sephardic world never had to contend with non-Orthodox religious movements, and thus it was able to develop in a much more natural-one might say organic-fashion. In particular, this was the case in Morocco, a community that had a very old halakhic tradition and whose scholars produced numerous works of responsa.

In Morocco the rabbinic courts had complete control of issues of marriage, divorce, and inheritance. This meant that they were much more involved in the average Jew's life than the rabbis of other countries. Recognizing the great responsibility they had, in 1947 the Moroccan rabbinic leadership convened a conference of rabbis from all the important cities to deal with various problems that they were confronting.

All the leading rabbis agreed to attend the conference and debate the issues, after which a vote would be taken and all would be bound by the decision. If necessary, takanot (ordinances) would be proclaimed that would bind Moroccan Jewry. These conferences were designed to meet every year or so, and this occurred up until Morocco achieved independence in 1956. At that time, the Jewish leadership thought that the new government would not look kindly upon the gatherings, and thus the meetings were suspended. Because of the massive Jewish emigration that took place after Moroccan independence, the conferences would never again be held.

Why were takanot needed? Rabbi Moshe Malka wrote as follows, in words that reflect the mindset that was driving the Moroccan rabbis (Mikveh ha-Mayim, vol. 1 no. 54): "I am convinced that the times require adjustments and a revitalization of the structure of Jewish religious life, but one must approach this with great care and seriousness. We must esteem the modern outlook to the extent that it doesn't conflict with Torah and tradition."

Takanot per se are nothing new, as history is full of them in both the Ashkenazic and Sephardic worlds. However, in more modern times not only did the Ashkenazic world lack the unity necessary for takanot, but there was also an ideological opposition to them. Leading scholars in the Hareidi world argued that we are no longer worthy to make takanot, and takanot, which are seen as compromises with modernity, are ipso facto invalid.

The rabbis of Morocco had a different approach. The reason for the first conference, as stated in the book recording its decisions, was to formulate "takanot and practices according to the societal circumstances for the good of Judaism and of life." Takanot were necessary "to complete the law, which needs adjustment according to the societal circumstances," as put by Moroccan Chief Rabbi Saul Ibn Danan at the first conference.

The Ashkenazic Hareidim of the modern period believed that it was the social conditions that needed adjustment, not the law, but the Moroccan rabbis were doing what had always been done in traditional communities, that is, dealing with the situation before them. To give an example, the talmudic sages could have said that if people won't lend money without interest then it is the people who must improve, but we will not adjust the law. They didn't say this. Instead, they invented a heter iska, which is a legalistic mechanism to enable one to lend on interest. Many similar examples could be given from talmudic days to the early modern era.

Rabbi Marc Angel has put the matter well in discussing the view of those who oppose takanot because to adopt them would imply that we are more sensitive than the sages of previous generations. As he states, this view "is essentially ludicrous. Throughout the centuries, our sages have initiated takanot in their communities to meet the contemporary needs of their people. Did they think it was an insult to their predecessors to be responsive to contemporary needs? Did Rabbeinu Gershom slander all previous generations of rabbis by instituting his takanot?" (Seeking Good, Speaking Peace, p. 85).

The most significant of the Moroccan takanot was the one permitting unmarried daughters to inherit along with sons. This was a response to the times, when unmarried women were living on their own and were not marrying at young ages. The situation was identical to that which is found in contemporary communities where, unlike what prevailed in pre-modern times, there is something unfair about only sons inheriting. What parents would feel comfortable with their daughters not inheriting? As the Moroccan rabbis were aware, we can assume that anyone who dies without a will would also want his or her daughters to inherit.

In fact, it is not only in modern times that this concern was felt. Two years after the expulsion from Spain, the Castilian exiles in Fez had already made a takana that unmarried daughters should inherit together with sons. They also decreed that if a woman dies, not only the husband but the children also inherit. However, there were different practices in Morocco since in the south, which included Marrakesh, the takanot of the Castilian exiles were not accepted. One of the purposes of the rabbinic conferences of the mid-twentieth century was to unify Jewish practice throughout the country.

There is no question that the desire of Jewish parents to have their daughters inherit extends also to married daughters. Yet a takana in this area would have been a very radical step, entirely overturning traditional Jewish law in the matter of inheritance. To be sure, there are ways around this such as through a shetar hatzi zakhar, but the Moroccan rabbis were not focused on this sort of legalistic approach. They were making takanot to fundamentally alter the way Jewish law operated, and they therefore investigated whether such a takana for married daughters was also valid.

The issue was formally raised at the last conference. The Chief Rabbi asked the participants to submit responsa, which would be discussed at a future conference However, due to Moroccan independence and the subsequent emigration, this was to be the last conference. We thus have no way of knowing what would have been decided. Yet from the responsa of the Moroccan rabbis that have been published, we see that there was great reluctance to take the far-reaching step of allowing married women to inherit along with single women. As R. Moshe Malka explained, to do so would be seen as an acknowledgment that Torah law is unfair to women. There were significant changes in the living situation of unmarried women from ancient times to the present, which made a takana for them understandable. But what could be the justification for changing the halakha with regard to married women? Furthermore, Malka argued, no one-not even the talmudic Sages-have the authority make such a wide-ranging takana, one that would abolish the Torah's rules of inheritance in their entirety (Mikveh ha-Mayim, vol. 1 no. 54). It is fair to say that the Moroccan rabbis were guided by conservative sentiments, yet this was a conservatism that recognized the validity of takanot to update Jewish law, a stance that was not recognized by the Ashkenazic authorities of the time.

In discussing how a certain takana diverged from standard Jewish law, Rabbi Shalom Messas, Chief Rabbi of Morocco and later of Jerusalem, wrote: "Even though this is not in accord with the clear halakha . . . nevertheless, this is the case with all takanot, for they diverge from the halakha in accordance with the conditions of the time, as long as there is a slight support in the earlier or later posekim" (Tevuot Shemesh, Even ha-Ezer, no. 47). This, of course, is the essence of all takanot, that the law as it stands is not adequate at the present time.

At the same time that the Moroccan conferences were taking place, Chief Rabbi Isaac Herzog in Israel was trying to ensure that matters of inheritance were placed under the authority of the Chief Rabbinate. He realized that the non-Orthodox, and even many of the Orthodox, would oppose this step if daughters were not permitted to inherit. The halakha was regarded as discriminatory and simply not relevant to modern times, and if this could not be fixed then there was no way Jewish law in this area would become the law of the land. The Chief Rabbinate floated the idea of takanot to allow women to inherit, yet this was roundly condemned by the Hareidi community and nothing came of it.

There was hardly any such opposition in Morocco. After the vote was taken, all rabbis throughout the country accepted the takana about inheritance, as well as the other takanot, even if they personally were at first opposed. They put them into practice in their Batei Din, so it didn't matter whether one lived in Fez, Agadir, Sefrou, or Marrakesh, as there was now one law. There is no parallel to this type of takana and response to changing circumstances in modern times, both for the substance of the takana and for the unified acceptance of it.

The rabbinic conferences in Morocco are the only example in modern times of a living halakha that responded to contemporary concerns with a united rabbinic front. These rabbis had confidence in their authority and didn't feel the need to look over their shoulders. Who knows what would have been achieved in Morocco had the conferences continued?

WOMEN’S VOICES IN CONTEMPORARY ORTHODOX TANAKH SCHOLARSHIP

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

Author's note:

Since I published this article originally in 2014, there have been a few updates:

Dr Avivah Zornberg’s Numbers book came out in 2015. Dr. Yael Ziegler's Ruth commentary was published in 2015 and her new commentary on Lamentations is about to be published in the Maggid Tanakh Series. Dr Erica Brown has since published a commentary on Jonah (Maggid, 2017) and her commentary on Esther is about to be published by Maggid. Tragically, Dr. Avigail Rock passed away in 2019. Her online course on exegesis will appear as a book published by Maggid, and is soon coming out in Hebrew and later in English.

INTRODUCTION

The past generation was blessed with the sui generis Professor Nehama Leibowitz (1905-1997), who revolutionized Tanakh education through her systematic treatment of classical commentary and interpretation of the biblical text. Her work continues to play a prominent role in religious Tanakh learning today. [1]

Our generation has witnessed a flowering of Orthodox women publishing on diverse facets of religious Tanakh learning, ranging from associative, insight-based derashot, to rigorous analytical peshat scholarship, to parshanut scholarship that emphasizes the contributions of individual commentators. In this essay, I will briefly survey the work of several outstanding scholars.

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Dr. Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg’s essays are derashot on biblical narratives. She draws on a wealth of midrashic and Hasidic teachings, classical scholarship, and contemporary literature and psychology in exploring the personalities of biblical figures.

Although “modern midrash” often becomes a vehicle of saying whatever one wants in the context of postmodern literary criticism, Dr. Zornberg uses classical commentary as a point of reference so that she can engage in her own work while having an anchor in traditional thought. She does not present a transparent analytical peshat methodology that can be replicated, but rather offers an associative and introspective presentation of her insights that elucidate aspects of spiritual and human experience. [2]

Dr. Zornberg has published books on Genesis and Exodus, and has a forthcoming book on Numbers.[3] She also has published a more eclectic collection of derashot in The Murmuring Deep.[4] Below are two examples from the latter work.

In her essay on the Book of Jonah (pp. 77–105), Dr. Zornberg asks the obvious question: What was Jonah thinking when he fled from before God? She quotes from Psalm 139, where the Psalmist seeks to hide from God but knows that it is impossible to do so:

O Lord, You have examined me and know me. When I sit down or stand up You know it; You discern my thoughts from afar…You hedge me before and behind; You lay Your hand upon me…Where can I escape from Your spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence? (Psalm 139:1–7)

The Talmud plays on the expression, “You hedge me before and behind,” stating that God created man with two faces (Berakhot 61a; Eruvin 18a). The Jewish French philosopher Emmanuel Levinas (1906–1995) interpreted this passage to suggest that if you have one face, there is a place in the back of your head where you can keep hidden thoughts. If you have a second face in the back of your head, however, then all is exposed to God. Levinas argues that this double-exposure brings joy to the psalmist through exultation in divine proximity and intimate knowledge. Everyone desires to be known and understood.

Dr. Zornberg maintains that Levinas is only partially correct. “Where shall I flee from Your face?” does not sound like an expression of pure bliss. Rather, it voices the human longing for a deep connection while simultaneously trying to protect the private self within.

Refusal to stand before God means to evade uncertainty, since confrontation with God generates feelings of fallibility and humility. After fleeing from God’s presence, Jonah becomes compulsively certain, insisting that he knows why everything happens. The sailors and Ninevites panic, say “maybe” and “who knows,” and they pray and repent. In contrast, Jonah calmly says yadati—I know why there is a storm, and I know how to stop it. I knew from the beginning that God would pardon the Ninevites. Jonah’s exaggerated knowingness is a camouflage for his anxieties. Jonah fears exposure to God, which would reveal that he really does not know. Jonah flees God initially, and would sooner die than concede uncertainty at the end of the narrative.

In a different essay, Dr. Zornberg discusses Judah’s dramatic speech to Joseph before Joseph broke down and revealed himself to his brothers. Judah “drew close to him, va-yiggash elav” (Genesis 44:18). The nineteenth-century Hasidic master Sefat Emet explains that Judah drew close to Joseph, but also to himself and to God. Dr. Zornberg expands on this insight: When Judah pleads on behalf of Benjamin by stating that Jacob would die of grief if Benjamin were not to return (44:34), Judah accesses a deep part of his own personality. Invoking Jacob’s potential grief over losing a son, Judah recalls the pain of losing his two sons Er and Onan, and suddenly feels a new empathy and identification with his father Jacob. Once Judah has discovered his true self, he also draws closer to God (pp. xii-xiv).

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In her book, Waiting for Rain,[5] Dr. Bryna Jocheved Levy presents associative derashot for the Tishri holiday season. She brings a mastery of the biblical text, classical commentary and Midrash, and weaves together a wide array of writings to develop her own insights.

Dr. Levy offers a multidimensional analysis of Noah’s character (pp. 3-24). In the Zikhronot blessing of the Musaf for Rosh HaShanah, we remember Noah. At one level, this association reminds us of God’s sovereignty over all humanity. The Noah story also teaches that we always can begin again, a central message of Rosh HaShanah.

However, several interpreters insist that Noah also failed in his responsibility to humanity, and we must learn from that dimension of the story as well. For example, Rabbi Abraham Saba (1440-1508) asserts that Noah should have pleaded for mercy for humanity as soon as God proclaimed the decree. Instead, Noah silently built the Ark and saved only himself and his family.[6] Dr. Levy explains that Rabbi Saba derived his critical stance in part from the fact that after the Flood, Noah planted a vineyard and got drunk (Genesis 9:20-21). Noah also never had other children, despite God’s blessing to be fruitful and multiply. Perhaps Noah recognized, too late, how devastating the Flood had been, and regretted not having tried to ward it off.

Dr. Levy then proposes alternative dimensions that also may have motivated Noah to become drunk and strip naked in the lone post-Flood narrative about him, including: (1) Noah longed to return to the innocence of pre-Flood life, and produced wine to remind himself of celebration. (2) Noah was inspired by the process of winemaking: To ferment, grapes decompose and then something wonderful emerges from something rotten. Similarly, Noah wanted the cadavers rotting beneath the earth’s surface to produce new life. (3) Noah wanted to escape the dreadful memories of the Flood. (4) Noah wanted to return to an Eden-like state. Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge, and thereby became conscious of their nakedness. The Talmud suggests that the Tree of Knowledge may have been a vine (Sanhedrin 70a). Noah now became drunk and stripped naked, returning to the primeval Eden-like state (cf. Hatam Sofer). Thus, Dr. Levy’s exposition considers several possible motivations for Noah’s post-Flood behavior, taking a larger-than-life situation and humanizing it with insightful complexity.

Elsewhere, Dr. Levy discusses Jeremiah’s stirring prophecy of redemption, which is read as the Haftarah on the second day of Rosh HaShanah (pp. 47-70). A highlight of this prophecy is the haunting image of the Matriarch Rachel’s crying inconsolably over the loss of her exiled children (Jeremiah 31:14-16). Dr. Levy suggests that Jeremiah selected the image of Rachel—the only time she appears in Tanakh outside of Genesis—in part because God had previously commanded Jeremiah not to marry or have children in Israel as a prophetic sign that there was no short-term future in the land (Jeremiah 16:1-4). Following the destruction, when Jeremiah stood at Ramah and watched Jewish captives being dragged into exile (Jeremiah 40:1), Jeremiah identified deeply with Rachel. In addition to weeping over the national tragedy, the prophet felt a personal sense of loss over the children he never had. His tears were Rachel’s tears. Jeremiah also looked beyond the immediate sense of loss to the hope for restoration, prophesying that there is reward for Rachel’s labor and her children will return.

Dr. Levy makes related attempts to connect the personalities of other prophets with their prophecies. For example, Moses was able to reveal God’s attributes of mercy to humanity because Moses possessed those traits himself (pp. 148-149). When Joshua encountered the angelic captain of God’s hosts prior to the battle against Jericho (Joshua 5:13-15), the angel was a manifestation of Joshua, the general of Israel’s army. “It is as if God held up a celestial mirror and asked Joshua to gaze within and respond to what he saw” (p. 243).

Another feature of Dr. Levy’s work is her sensitivity to the connection between art and religious experience. Invited to contribute to a recent issue of Conversations, she chose to include her analysis of Rembrandt’s paintings of biblical scenes. [7]

Also noteworthy in the genre of modern midrash by scholars with a strong grounding in peshat is Dr. Erica Brown’s book, Leadership in the Wilderness.[8] As the title suggests, she uses the text as a springboard to explore the concept of leadership through the Book of Numbers.

For example, in her analysis of the plague of fiery serpents and Moses’ brass serpent that helped bring about their cure (Numbers chapter 21), Dr. Brown derives meaning from the symbol of a serpent as a source of healing. Goodness sometimes come from places often perceived as sources of pain. The Israelites learned not to make judgments regarding what might bring salvation.

Additionally, the people needed only to look up at the serpent in order to be saved (Numbers 21:8-9). Evidently, if they did not look up but instead concentrated on themselves and their pain, they would remain unhealed. This detail teaches that sometimes the solutions to our most pressing problems are right in front of us; but we need to open our eyes to see them. Moses succeeded as a leader by empowering the people, teaching them how they could find their own salvation (pp. 159-160).

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We turn now to two leading scholars who champion the realm of peshat. Yeshivat Har Etzion and its affiliated Herzog College are at the forefront of contemporary Orthodox Tanakh study. This school exemplifies the bridging of the best of traditional and contemporary scholarship in a religious context.[9] Many of their courses are archived online at their Virtual Beit Midrash (http://www.vbm-torah.org).

Dr. Yael Ziegler taught a course on the Book of Ruth, archived at http://www.vbm-torah.org/ruth.html, and forthcoming as part of the new Maggid Press Tanakh series. Dr. Tova Ganzel taught a course on the Book of Ezekiel that has been published by Tevunot Press of Herzog College (in Hebrew). [10] Both scholars present material in a transparent, analytical manner that can be applied by others in developing their own learning methodology.

Weaving together biblical text, Midrash, classical commentary and contemporary scholarship, Dr. Ziegler illustrates how the analytical tools of literary analysis, including allusions, attention to individual words and syntax, rhetorical devices, key words, character development, and many other features, contribute substantially to our understanding of the Book of Ruth. She also demonstrates the immense value of the insights of Midrash in the realm of peshat. Midrashim are especially sensitive to the finest literary nuances, making them valuable for ascertaining meaning.

For example, Dr. Ziegler explores the meanings of the characters’ names in peshat and in derash.[11] The plain sense of Elimelech’s name—my God is King—righteously suggests that the people should not be interested in a human monarchy; rather, they should accept God as their King. However, one Midrash deviates from the plain sense and suggests that the name Elimelech should be read as though it said elai melekh, to me shall come the kingship (Ruth Rabbah 2:5). This Midrash fits into a constellation of other Midrashim that accuse Elimelech of selfishly shirking his responsibilities toward his community during the famine. The Midrash intimates that Elimelech felt entitled to be a king, and therefore did not deserve to produce a king. Dr. Ziegler bridges the peshat and derash etymologies by explaining:

The Midrash suggests that while Elimelech could perhaps have promulgated the notion that God is the ultimate King, thereby setting in place a viable model of human kingship, he does not do so. He corrupts the destiny that attends his name and, in a commensurate fashion, our Sages corrupt his name.

Dr. Ziegler also explores various midrashic etymologies proposed for the name Ruth:

Rabbi Yohanan said: Because she was worthy and from her emerged David, who saturated (rivahu) the Holy one, blessed be He, with songs and praises. (Berakhot 7b)

This etymology focuses on Ruth’s significance as the progenitor of David, who is mentioned at the end of the Book of Ruth (4:22).

“And the name of the second was Ruth,” because she saw (ra’atah) the words of her mother-in-law. (Ruth Rabbah 9:4; Tanhuma Behar 3)

This etymology highlights Ruth’s sensitivity toward her mother-in-law Naomi. Dr. Ziegler suggests further that these Midrashim may relate to others that derive the name Ruth from re’ut, meaning friend. Ruth’s loyalty shines throughout the book.

Still other Midrashim expound on Ruth’s name as deriving from her relationship with God:

“And the name of the second was Ruth,” because she would boil herself (meratahat atzmah) [to stay away] from sins, in order to do the will of her Father in heaven. (Ruth Zuta 1:4)

This approach points to Ruth’s piety before God, as she becomes the paradigmatic convert. Dr. Ziegler concludes that each of these midrashic wordplays relates to central dimensions of Ruth’s character. Ruth was the progenitor of David, a loyal daughter-in-law, and a God-fearing individual.

Of particular value is her essay on methodology at the conclusion of the series.[12] Dr. Ziegler surveys the emergence of literary scholarship within the secular academy and its impact on contemporary Orthodox Tanakh study. She distinguishes between where the yeshivah and the academy can engage in productive dialogue, and where they differ. Most importantly, secular literary analysis focuses on Tanakh as literature, without necessarily seeking the theological dimensions of the text. In contrast, religious study uses the same literary tools to enhance Tanakh learning to grow in one’s relationship with God.

Dr. Tova Ganzel has distinguished herself as a scholar in the esoteric Book of Ezekiel. In her book published by Herzog College, Dr. Ganzel offers a commentary on the Book of Ezekiel accessible to scholars, educators, and interested laypeople. She combines a deep understanding of the historical period, literary analysis, and a mastery of classical and contemporary scholarship. One reading her book will gain a sense of the current state of scholarship on the Book of Ezekiel, and will be able to fathom many aspects of this difficult prophetic work.

***
Ideal Tanakh scholarship keeps the biblical text at the center of inquiry and draws from the best of classical and contemporary interpretation. Parshanut scholarship, in contrast, focuses on individual biblical commentators and their modes of thought and contributions. A scholar of Ramban, Dr. Michelle J. Levine concentrates on his exceptional literary and human insight. She illustrates how Ramban offers a holistic view of biblical narrative. Through his integrative readings, Ramban develops more comprehensive character portrayals than most other classical commentators. Ramban also is sensitive to gaps and ambiguities, and exploits them in his penetrating analyses. Dr. Levine argues that these features make Ramban’s commentary particularly relevant and appealing to modern readers.[13]

To cite one example, Ramban maintains that Noah was absolutely righteous. Differing from those Midrashim and later commentators who relativize Noah’s greatness in contrast to that of Abraham, Ramban maintains that the Torah’s introduction of Noah as a righteous man in his generation teaches that he stood above everyone else and walked with God (Genesis 6:9). What of Noah’s drunkenness after the Flood? Ramban (on Genesis 9:26) explains that this passage warns of the potency of wine and its ability to bring down even the greatest of men: “For the wholly innocent individual (tzaddik tamim), whose merit saved the entire world, even he was brought to sin by wine.” Dr. Levine explains that Ramban’s positive characterization of Noah answers a central question of the story: Why did Noah merit to become the “second Adam” who would become the ancestor of all humanity? [14]

Also noteworthy in the realm of parshanut scholarship is Dr. Avigayil Rock’s course on “Great Biblical Exegetes,” archived at the Virtual Beit Midrash of Yeshivat Har Etzion (http://vbm-torah.org/parshanut.html). Dr. Rock surveys the history of traditional biblical peshat interpretation from Targum Onkelos and Rabbi Saadiah Gaon, through the nineteenth-century commentators. Her course elucidates the methodology and major contributions of each commentator.

***
We have considered a small sampling of the contributions of several exceptional contemporary women engaged in religious Tanakh scholarship. Even more promising, however, is what likely is yet to come, as growing numbers of Orthodox women engage in high-level learning and teaching.

NOTES

[1] For a recent discussion of Professor Leibowitz’s continued relevance in developing a learning methodology, see R. Shalom Carmy, “Always Connect,” in Where the Yeshiva Meets the University: Traditional and Academic Approaches to Tanakh Study, ed. Hayyim Angel, Conversations 15 (Winter 2013), pp. 1-12.

[2] See especially the reviews of her book on Genesis by R. Shalom Carmy, Jewish Action 58:3 (1998), pp. 82-87; and Dr. Tamar Ross, Bekhol Derakhekha Da’ehu (BDD) 3 (1996), pp. 49-57.

[3] Genesis: The Beginning of Desire (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1995); The Particulars of Rapture: Reflections on Exodus (New York: Doubleday, 2001); Bewilderments: Reflections on the Book of Numbers (New York: Schocken, forthcoming).

[4] The Murmuring Deep: Reflections on the Biblical Unconscious (New York: Schocken, 2009).

[5] Waiting for Rain: Reflections at the Turning of the Year (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1998).

[6] See further discussion and sources that criticize Noah in Prof. Nehama Leibowitz, Studies in Bereshit (Genesis), trans. Aryeh Newman (Jerusalem: Eliner Library), pp. 59-66.

[7] Dr. Bryna Jocheved Levy, “Scripture Envisioned: The Bible through the Eyes of Rembrandt,” in Where the Yeshiva Meets the University: Conversations 15, pp. 189-199.

[8] Leadership in the Wilderness: Authority and Anarchy in the Book of Numbers (New Milford, CT: Maggid, 2013).

[9] See further discussion in Hayyim Angel, “The Literary-Theological Study of Tanakh,” afterword to R. Moshe Sokolow, Tanakh: An Owner’s Manual (Brooklyn, NY: Ktav, 2014), pp. 192-207; reprinted in Angel, Peshat Isn’t So Simple: Essays on Developing a Religious Methodology to Bible Study (New York: Kodesh Press, 2014), pp. 118-136.

[10] Nevu’at ha-Tzofeh: Ben Hurban le-Tekumah, Iyyunim be-Sefer Yehezkel (Hebrew) (Alon Shevut: Tevunot, 2012). This material also is archived in the Hebrew section of the Virtual Beit Midrash at Yeshivat Har Etzion, at http://www.etzion.org.il/vbm/search_results.php?subject=%F2%E9%E5%F0%E9%ED+%E1%E9%E7%E6%F7%E0%EC&koteret=%F2%E9%E5%F0%E9%ED+%E1%E9%E7%E6%F7%E0%….

[11] At http://vbm-torah.org/archive/ruth/07ruth.htm.

[12] At http://vbm-torah.org/archive/ruth/38ruth.htm.

[13] For an essay accessible to nonspecialists, see “Ramban’s Integrative Approach to the Reading of Biblical Narrative,” in Where the Yeshiva Meets the University: Conversations 15, pp. 154-167. See also her scholarly book, Nahmanides on Genesis: The Art of Biblical Portraiture (Providence, RI: Brown University Press, 2009).

[14] “Ramban’s Integrative Approach to the Reading of Biblical Narrative,” in Where the Yeshiva Meets the University: Conversations 15, pp. 160-161.

To our members and friends,

We are thrilled to report the ongoing programming of our Campus Fellows throughout the United States and Canada, as we promote our values and content through an inclusive, thoughtful Orthodoxy. Here are the latest reports of our fellows and their programming. We also welcome Eli Hyman of Yeshiva College of Yeshiva University as our latest fellow to join our circle.

Wishing you a wonderful Hanukkah

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

National Scholar

Aryeh Roberts and Mikey Pollack, University of Maryland

We helped coordinate Sermon Slam—UMD's annual Jewish Poetry Slam—and heard a lot of different stories. One person shared their struggles with depression, another on life in Pittsburgh after this year's tragedy, another on their religious struggles—it was a really powerful event. 

Zachary Tankel, McGill University

We had a total of five terrific events with the Institute this semester. One was a speech on the Chassidic approach to the concept of gilgul, and the other four were student-led discussion groups, on the topics of the suffering of the righteous, financial ethics, hilchot shemittah, and kavana in mitzvot. In all four discussion groups, everyone attending was very engaged and contributed to a highly interesting conversation and wonderful learning. 

The first two events, which I described in my previous email, was a discussion on the topic of the suffering of the righteous, which I led, and a speech on gilgul. 

The three events I organized since were discussion groups led by other students. (While someone else prepared the discussions, I organized all the other aspects, including scheduling venues, obtaining food and other necessary items, setting up and cleaning up, and advertising, which I do through Facebook.)

The first of these discussion groups was on March 12th, on the topic of financial ethics in Judaism. We talked about the halachot of selling goods below market price and heter iska, among other things. You can see the event page on Facebook here: https://www.facebook.com/events/1143497409157684/. 

The second discussion group was on March 19th. We had an overview of the laws of shemittah, including shvitat haaretz, heter mechira, and kedushat shvi'it. You can see the Facebook event page here: https://www.facebook.com/events/604682016672760/.

The third discussion group was on April 2nd, on the topic of mitzvot and kavana. We discussed the general principle of kavana in mitzvot, mitzvot committed by force or otherwise without intent, and melacha done on Shabbat without the intent of doing the melacha (davar she'eino mitkaven). This is the link to the Facebook event: https://www.facebook.com/events/330596857805341/. 

Thank you so much for making possible these events. Ever since OU-JLIC was discontinued in Montreal last year, the programs I organize on behalf of the Institute are, unfortunately, the only learning opportunities in downtown Montreal specifically for Orthodox students. (We do have some knowledgeable non-Orthodox students attend, but the discussions or speeches are always at a level appropriate for Orthodox students, in oppose to learning events hosted by other organizations, which generally have to accommodate less knowledgeable students). Everyone who comes is always engaged and interested in the topic makes for wonderful learning opportunities. Thank you so much for your support! 

Ayelet Rubenstein (University of Pennsylvania)

This past semester, I co-hosted a meal for Orthodox students oriented around the topic of Israel. We discussed topics such as our personal connections to Israel, Israel advocacy on college campuses, and what our obligation is to Israel as Modern Orthodox Jews. The dinner led to a thought-provoking discussion about what our relationship with Israel should be on both the individual and communal levels within Modern Orthodoxy. 

I also worked with two other students to bring in Rabbi Ethan Tucker, the Rosh Yeshiva and co-founder of Yeshivat Hadar. Rabbi Tucker led a Shiur entitled "Sacred Choices- Pluralism, Integrity, and Community: You Can't Have Them All." Following this event, I engaged my peers in a discussion about the values of these three ideals, and we analyzed which of them we prioritize in Modern Orthodoxy. This dialogue led us to consider how our own personal and communal values manifest in our religious choices.

Sara Evans (Queens)

I just ran an oneg for Queens college students that went to the Hamptons. At the oneg I spoke about the Institute. I gave a short D’var Torah about the parsha (Chayei Sara). In it I brought up the idea of loss and how to cope with it, also we bought up how Hahshem wants us to look forward and seek him out not only looking at the past. We also discussed the idea of how Judaism requires a lot fo faith in the future and in Hashem. 

I had my second event on December 2. Rabbi Aryeh Klapper came to speak and his topic was about speaking ill of the dead. The students who came really enjoyed it and found that they were able to be part of the process because Rabbi Klapper went through how this works from the start allowing students to ask questions and make their own revelations regarding the topic. The students requested if Rabbi Klapper could come back and speak again since they enjoyed it immensely.

Raffi Levi and Benjamin Nechmad, Rutgers

We hosted a lunch and learn event based off of Rabbi Marc Angel's recent article on not having an alarmist attitude when confronting the recent antisemitism. It was a very productive discussion and we had 10 people total. 

A couple of people brought their own sources that illustrated the main point further. 

It is always good to remind people to think rationally and calmly during times of struggle and many of my peers appreciated the lunch. 

Marta Dubov (Ryerson)

I am happy to report that a monthly woman’s Rosh Chodesh book club has been established, and we have thoroughly enjoyed reading and discussing Conversations, and working to apply the principles to our day-to day lives. Next semester they will resume, hopefully with some new members.

All 18 copies were successfully distributed. 10 to individual students and 5 donated to the Hillel of Ryerson for incoming students to pick up. I have been told there is great interest in them.

Ora Friedman, Stern College for Women, Yeshiva University

The event at Stern College on “The Impact of Jewish Education on Moral Character and Development” was a huge success! I introduced the event by speaking about how my own Jewish Education had a positive impact on my moral character and development, and I encouraged participants of the event to reflect on how their own Jewish Education impacts their moral character and development. Rabbi Chaim Hagler, Head of School of Yeshivat Noam, spoke about how morality is defined based on the ideals of the Torah, and as a result, Jewish Education is the only means to acquiring morality. He spoke about how part of an educator’s role is to model moral character and development for his or her students. There were nine students who attended the event, including Yeshivat Noam alumni, students from the Education club at Stern College, and other Stern College students. I received a lot of positive feedback about the event! 

It is with deep sadness that we record the passing of Rabbi Dr. Chaim Wakslak, for many years the Rabbi of the Young Israel of Long Beach, New York. The funeral was on Friday February 21, 2020. We extend our condolences to his wife Rivkah, to their children and grandchildren.

Rabbi Wakslak was a uniquely good man, a devoted rabbi and teacher…and a wonderful friend.

Much can be said about his remarkable life and his outstanding service as a communal Rav. I, personally, have rarely met a rabbi who was so truly a servant of Hashem.

                                                      *     *

“Rabbi Elazar said in the name of Rabbi Haninah: Rabbinic scholars increase peace in the world” (end of tractate Berakhot). The hallmark of a rabbi must be the commitment to increase peace and harmony among the Jewish people and within society at large. Without this guiding focus, rabbinic scholars betray their responsibility.

How do rabbis go about increasing peace in the world? How is this general truism translated into specific action? An answer may be found in the commentary of the Maharsha on the closing passages in Berakhot and Yevamot. The Maharsha states that rabbis are obliged to bring peace between the people of Israel and Hashem. By teaching Torah, the prayers and blessings, as well as by imbuing reverence and love of God, rabbis thereby lead Jews to find peace in their relationship with the Almighty. The rabbinic mission demands a spiritual outlook, an overwhelming desire to bring Jews closer to Hashem and Torah. This mission can only be fulfilled properly in a spirit of love, compassion, inclusivity—and much patience.

The rabbi must be—and must be seen by others to be—a selfless religious leader who places the public’s interests before his own. He must set the example of what it means to be a truly religious personality.

Rabbi Chaim Wakslak was a rabbi who brought people closer to Hashem, selflessly and sincerely. When he davened, his beautiful and spiritual voice lifted all of us. When he delivered his sermons, his keen wit and love of Torah filled the synagogue. He was devoted to his “Daf Yomi” group; he was a tireless teacher to all segments of the community.  He taught not only with words…but by example. If you want to visualize a genuinely pious, a sincerely religious human being—Rabbi Chaim Wakslak is the image you would call to mind.

The Maharsha points to another rabbinic characteristic that results in increasing peace in the world. It is the application of halakha in a way that reflects understanding and sensitivity to the human predicament. Our sages recognized overarching principles that guided halakhic rulings—principles such as sanctifying God’s Name; avoiding desecration of God’s name; making decisions with the understanding that the ways of Torah are pleasant and all its paths are peace.

 Rabbi Wakslak was not only a Rabbi but was a trained psychologist; he understood people; he related to each person with sensitivity. He knew not only how to speak, but how to listen. He was a talmid hakham who was able to bring Torah and halakha into peoples’ lives in a loving, thoughtful way.

To increase peace in the world, rabbinical scholars must be sensitive to the needs of the public and must see themselves as integral members of the public. These were qualities epitomized by Rabbi Wakslak. In the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, he mobilized the entire Long Beach community—Jews and non-Jews—to come together, to help one another, to provide meals and comfort to those who lost so much in the storm. Whatever he did, he did with profound faith in the Almighty, and without seeking personal glory or even simple gratitude. He did what was right…because it was right, because the Torah guided his every step and every thought.

Rabbi Wakslak was the guiding spiritual light of the Young Israel. He was the tireless Rav who saw to it that the community had proper minyanim, shiurim, kosher establishments, an eiruv, a mikvah. With his passing, the community has lost a Rav of incredible energy and dedication. We have all lost not just a fine Rav; we have lost a genuine and trusted friend.

The Gemara (Berakhot 46b) cites the opinion of Rabbi Akiva that one should recite a blessing upon learning of someone’s death: Barukh Dayyan ha-Emet, blessed be the True Judge. This is a blessing of resignation. Although we are grieving, we acknowledge the ultimate wisdom of Hashem. We do not understand the mysteries of life and death.

But the Hakhamim suggest a different blessing: Barukh haTov ve-Hameitiv, blessed be the One Who is good and Who does good. This seems like a strange choice; but it is not strange. The hakhamim are reminding mourners that even in the deepest sadness, we need to remember the good things that the deceased person had experienced during the course of life. We are to remember the person’s goodness and how that goodness will continue to be a source of strength, blessing and happiness in the months and years ahead.

Rabbi Chaim Wakslak was blessed with a wonderful wife and family; a devoted congregation; years of satisfaction as a teacher, guide, and communal leader. With resignation and sadness, we say Barukh Dayyan ha-Emet. With gratitude for the blessings he enjoyed over the course of his life, and for the blessings he showered on his family and community, we say Barukh ha-Tov ve-Hameitiv.

    Reb Chaim, as a genuine talmid hakham, you brought peace between us and Hashem. You brought peace between us and our fellow human beings. You helped us find peace within ourselves.  May you, who were the source of shalom and sheleimut during your lifetime, now find ultimate shalom and sheleimut in the Olam haEmet.

May the mourners be consoled by the Almighty. Min haShamayim Tenuhamu.

The coronavirus crisis, in spite of its terrible downsides, also offers us a positive opportunity.

What is happening to us is that we suddenly hear what Abraham Joshua Heschel called "a perpetual murmur from the waves beyond the shore," which until now we didn't hear. Not because it wasn't there before, but because we have been deafened by the curse of taking our lives for granted. We tell ourselves that we're fine, that we have almost everything under control, and that we're close to becoming the masters of the Universe. One more step, a bit more patience, and we'll be there: absolute certainty; absolute security; absolute health.

And now, to our utmost dread, we have fallen into the hands of one tiny virus that forces us to our knees, causing us not only to be aware that we've lost our certainty, but to realize that we never had it to begin with!

And this wake-up call is actually an enormous blessing, enabling us to become genuine realists. This tiny virus forces us to admit that our self-assured sense of health is a farce, and that our certainty of being able to breathe, walk, speak and think, come what may, is all wishful thinking.

How wise were the sages of Israel when they instituted the custom of making a blessing on almost anything, whether it is eating, drinking, observing natural phenomena, or smelling extravagant aromas. They depicted all these activities as nothing less than totally miraculous.

And how did they come up with the bizarre suggestion that we should say a blessing after we have relieved ourselves? Who would ever think of making a blessing on something as physical as that?

For the sages, nothing was taken for granted, and all was seen in the light of radical amazement. They walked through life with a constant "Wow" on their lips, and they wanted us to share in this uplifting experience when making a blessing. They knew that to take things for granted is to be spiritually dead.

True, to live in quarantine for two weeks, (our grandparents lived for years in hiding in the days of the Holocaust!)  stop kissing and shaking hands, be forced to cancel our plans for vacation, be unable to drink a cup of coffee in a restaurant, or visit a cinema, and be thrown into a nearly impossible situation of dealing with our young children while being unable to go to work, is far from a joke.

But is it not also something very special, which we never imagined? Suddenly we find ourselves on a new mental planet. We are forced to rethink our lives, develop a new mentality, and live a radically different kind of life that we never envisioned. It asks us to break with the monotony that most of us are used to. Almost all of us jump into routine every morning – whether it's a job, or the need to sleep, eat, or entertain ourselves. And now, one little virus suddenly forces us to rethink everything, making us wonder what this life of ours is really all about.

This unforeseen interruption gives us the time to meditate on our lives, learn Torah, read books of wisdom we would otherwise never get to, and above all, to pray as we never did before.

But now we stand in terror and in awe, asking what will happen now. What is our future? And we are aware that nobody knows the answer, not even our greatest experts, and surely not our leaders.

All of this is in fact very liberating. It creates new space in our minds and souls and offers us opportunities that we forgot existed.

The mask has fallen, and reality has confronted us as never before.

We suddenly become aware that life is a gift that is unearned and it may be a little dangerous to feel too much at home in this world. We are offered the chance to make a distinction between the vital and the futile; the trivial and the important; what needs to inspire us (and we should cling to) and what to drop.

While we still have no clue as to what coronavirus will do to our world, our health, and our finances (perhaps all our precautions are not only exaggerated but even counter-productive?), we all recognize that something divine is at stake.

So, what to do? Let me quote a colleague of mine, Rabbi Moss from Australia: "Close your eyes and feel the uncertainty and make peace with it. Embrace your cluelessness. Because in all confusion there is one thing you know for sure: you are in the hands of God."

And let us not forget: once this trial is behind us and almost all of us will have escaped in good health, the greatest challenge will still await us. Will we fall back into our old ways, or will we be transformed and live a life of spiritual grandeur?

"The Lion has roared. Who will not fear?" (Amos 3:8).

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THANK YOU FOR CARING AND SHARING. RESPOND TODAY TO CREATE A BETTER TOMORROW.

AS WE CELEBRATE OUR THIRTEENTH ANNIVERSARY, YOUR PARTNERSHIP IS VITAL.

If you are already a member of the Institute, please consider making an additional gift at this time. If you are not yet a member, please join our growing community. Each contribution is a vote for a revitalized, intelligent, active and diverse Orthodoxy.

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