National Scholar Updates

In 1998, I wrote a paper in which I presented a number of sociological factors that inevitably lead Orthodoxy in modern society to greater ritualistic stringency. I then referred to the process as “hareidization,” but because some of the patterns are very different from what is typically associated with Hareidim in Israel, I subsequently suggested labeling the process as “humrazation.” Recent developments in American “Centrist Orthodoxy” seem to validate both my original thesis and my relabeling the process as “humrazation.” What I am referring to is not hareidization because American Centrist Orthodox Jews, by and large, do not deprecate general education. Most value higher education, even if largely for its utilitarian value. Also, most are engaged to one degree or another with the larger Jewish community and the larger general society. They are overwhelmingly not only pro-Israel but view the State of Israel as having religious significance and, thus, pray in synagogues that recite the prayers for the Welfare of the State and for the Israel Defense Forces. At the same time, some leaders of Centrist Orthodoxy have become increasingly assertive and acerbic, and they attempt to define Centrist Orthodoxy in more rigid terms.

Let me begin with the observation that, strange as it may initially seem, American Orthodoxy is more rigid than its Israeli counterpart. We are used to thinking of Israeli Orthodoxy as more rigid, primarily because of the greater gap there—qualitatively and quantitatively—between the Hareidi and religious-Zionist communities. Indeed, the gap is greater in Israel because of several key factors:

1. Whether or not one views the State of Israel as having religious significance, it is located in Erets Yisrael, which has religious significance even to the staunchest anti-Zionist Orthodox Jew. What takes place there has religious significance, even if the state has none.

2. Religious significance aside, Israel is a Jewish country by virtue of its population and governance. It is therefore home even to non-Zionist Jews. Individuals behave much more openly, freely, and passionately at home than they do in an environment where they do not feel completely at home. That is one reason that ultra-Orthodox Jews in the United States feel free to hold demonstrations in New York but would not in the Midwest.

3. The primary issues that divide in Israel are economics and the military. In both cases, there is much more of a zero-sum relationship between the Hareidim and the religious Zionists than there is between "right-wing" or "ultra" or "yeshivish" or "hassidish"
Orthodox and the Centrist Orthodox in the United States. In the United States, Jews are a very small percentage of the overall population, and Orthodox Jews are less than a third of one percent of the American population. Whether or not a Jew or group of Jews earns a living and pays taxes is much less of a direct concern to most others than is the case in Israel, where Orthodox Jews—“hareidim” and “dati’im”—are almost 20 percent of the population. According to Israel’s Central Bureau of Statistics, 8.8 percent of Israel’s Jewish population are “ultra-Orthodox” (hareidim), 10 percent are “Orthodox” (dati’im), and another 15.1 percent are “Traditional-religious” (masortim dati’im).[1] All three groups are relatively large ones. They are somewhat in competition with each other over control of the political offices and financial budgets that define the religious standards of portions of both the public and private spheres, and they are significant proportions of the population whose behavior affects the entire society.

As a result, the gap, including the ideological antagonism between the Hareidim and religious Zionist communities, is much deeper and louder in Israel than it is in the United States.

At the same time, however, non-Hareidi Orthodoxy in Israel is considerably broader and more inclusive than is Centrist Orthodoxy in the United States. There is nothing in American Orthodoxy akin to the openness of, for example, the “Shabbat” literary supplement of the “Makor Rishon” newspaper. Almost every Friday, the “Shabbat” literary supplement contains articles, reviews, and letters from a wide variety of knowledgeable writers; these pieces frequently challenge and probe in depth a range of issues of interest to religious/observant Jews. The candid public discussions of religion-related matters by respected religious personalities with a range of perspectives is almost unthinkable in American Orthodoxy. Perhaps it exists in Israel precisely because neither Makor Rishon nor its literary supplement are, formally, religious publications, even though the majority of their readership is religious/dati.

Israeli Orthodoxy’s broadness was made even more evident to me when, about five years ago I wrote an article in this very publication in which I wrote that the second season of the popular Israeli television series about Modern Orthodox Jews, Serugim, would include homosexuals, and that there are several openly gay Orthodox groups in Israel.[2] In fact, I wrote, one such group had recently held its first anniversary event in Jerusalem and the guest of honor was one of the heads of a very highly respected Hesder yeshiva, and a number of other prominent Orthodox religious personalities also participated in that event. Shortly after my article appeared, I received a message from a friend who is a scholar and a professional in the Jewish community and who writes regularly on developments in the Orthodox community. He said that he had been unaware of a number of matters on the Israeli scene of which I had written and, in particular, the Rosh Yeshiva attending a gay Orthodox gathering. “This is impossible to conceive in the U.S. and shows that at least some sectors of Israeli Religious Zionism don’t have the inferiority complex vis-à-vis Hareidim that Modern Orthodoxy in the U.S. does,” he wrote. Being a sociologist, I suspect that there is more than American Modern (Centrist) Orthodoxy’s inferiority complex involved. There are also structural factors that account for the greater openness in Israeli Orthodoxy than in the United States.

Not only is American Orthodoxy more rigid than its Israeli counterpart, but it is becoming increasingly so. I am not referring only to the institutional shift in the major rabbinic organization, the Rabbinical Council of America (RCA), which, as Rabbis Marc Angel and Avi Weiss have argued, is currently more restrictive than it once was, especially with respect to the area of conversion. [3] They point to a letter sent to the Office of the Chief Rabbinate in which the Beth Din of America, founded by the RCA, averred that “we cannot accept the conversion of any rabbi who served in a synagogue without a mehitza [a partition between men and women].” Such a policy flies in the face of the not-uncommon practice prior to the 1980s, of Yeshiva University-ordained and placed rabbis in good standing within the RCA, serving in mixed-seating congregations. As Gerald/Yaacov Blidstein points out, even Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, the Rav, who “uncompromisingly rejected synagogues that did not seat men and women separately, . . . did not insist—as far as I know—on excluding rabbis who served such synagogues from the Rabbinical Council of America.”[4] Although previously accepted, the conversions of any of those rabbis are now rejected, and that can have horrible consequences for the children and grandchildren of and of those converts.

That is an institutional shift that parallels and, indeed, reflects the shift in the Chief Rabbinate in Israel. As the Israeli Rabbinate has become dominated by Hareidim, their conversion policies have become more restrictive—which is why there are now intense political efforts to remove conversion from the exclusive control of the Rabbinate. The RCA and the Beth Din of America fear that their conversions will not be accepted by the Rabbinate, so, rather than challenge it, they accede to its demands.

But the shift in American Centrist Orthodoxy goes beyond issues related to the Israeli Rabbinate and was starkly apparent in the recent controversy concerning a letter implicitly reprimanding a semikha-ordination student at Yeshiva University’s Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary (RIETS). The letter, sent by the sent the (then-Acting) Dean, asserts that graduates of RIETS

"are certainly expected to discuss sensitive halakhic issues with their rebbeim muvhakim [established teachers] and look to the psak of individuals who would be recognized by their Roshei Yeshiva as legitimate poskim [decisors]. Following the halakhic opinion of a scholar or rabbi who is not recognized as a posek would represent a fundamental breach in the mesorah [tradition] of the establishment of normative halakhah."

The letter continues to assert that “the communal authority vested in each musmakh [ordainee] demands that decisions, and certainly decisions in controversial areas of Jewish thought and practice, be made in consultation with the proper authorities” and “they are expected to defer, in matters of normative practice, to the opinions of recognized poskim.” Finally, the student was requested to respond “in writing, affirming or denying [his] ability to agree to these principles.” The issue which prompted the letter was sanctioning and participating in a so-called partnership minyan. Leaving aside the matter of whether such minyanim are halakhically legitimate—they have received more approval than mixed-seating congregations—the requirement that a student at RIETS sign a document affirming the principles spelled out in the letter is unprecedented. Following strong public reaction to the entire incident, Yeshiva University (YU) and its RIETS affiliate issued a statement assuring that the student in question would be ordained along with 225 other at the forthcoming Hag haSemikhah. The statement explained that the letter was in response to previous discussions with the student over issues that raised questions about his views of the halakhic process, and the student asked that the expectations of the yeshiva be set in writing so he could carefully consider his commitment to them.

The statement did not, however, dispel the perception that there are afoot in RIETS both a retrenchment process and an attempt to expand the area of exclusive control. The RIETS letter asserted that, “Following the halakhic opinion of a scholar or rabbi who is not recognized as a posek would represent a fundamental breach in the mesorah of the establishment of normative halakhah . . . even when there are no purely halakhic issues at stake.” To some this was seen as the Hareidi-like assertion of exclusive authority over all arenas under the banner of “da’as Torah.”[5] Hitherto, Modern Orthodoxy has dissented from the relatively recent Hareidi assertion that rabbis have authority over all areas, even non-halakhic ones. To see affirmation of this concept stipulated by RIETS as a prerequisite for receiving semikha was very surprising, to put it mildly.

The threat to withhold ordination over the issue of sanctioning and participating in a partnership minyan may have also been a reaction to an institutional issue. Some faculty and graduates of Yeshivat Chovevei Torah (YCT) have expressed their approval of partnership minyanim, and, since YCT is viewed as competition to RIETS, RIETS may have been wishing to distinguish itself entirely from YCT and implicitly disparage it in terms of its halakhic competence. Ironically, the empirical evidence suggests that, in fact, YCT is not a threat to RIETS. According to a press release from YU, the 2014 Hag haSemikhah was comprised of the largest cohort ever, more than 230 musmakhim (ordained rabbis). This just a few months before YCT celebrates its tenth Hag haSemikhah. The 10 years of YCT’s existence obviously have not had any negative impact on the RIETS semikhah program.

Apparently there is more than just institutional competition at play, a sense that is strengthened when one looks at the handling of the two most recent episodes in what is perceived as the gender status quo, namely, partnership minyanim and women putting on tefilin, phylacteries. Aaron Koller, an Associate Professor and Associate Dean at YU, asserts that the opposition to both of these by Rabbi Herschel Schachter, a leading Rosh Yeshiva and halakhic authority at RIETS, as expressed in his two responsa on them, is essentially sociological and political.[6] He argued that Rabbi Schachter asserts that halakhic authorities have the ability and right to determine the validity of partnership minyanim and women wearing tefilin, that they have determined them to be unacceptable.[7] Rabbi Schachter also argued, he continues, that they are dangerous and part of the threat of Conservative Judaism, which is the contemporary “Korach rebellion.” This threat, according to Rabbi Schachter, is as serious today as it was in the mid-twentieth century when the Rav vociferously condemned deviations from Orthodox practice advocated by Conservative Judaism. Koller responds that those who sanction both of the innovations for women rely on their own halakhic sources and do not automatically submit to the authorities recognized by Rabbi Schachter. As for prohibiting innovations due to the threat of Conservative Judaism, that may have been valid a half-century ago but may now produce diminishing returns and thus be counterproductive.

The two major published responses to Koller did little to detract from his basic arguments.[8] The first was oblivious of the history and sociology of pesika, halakhic decision-making, but was significant for its title, which indicated the structural underpinning of the controversy. This response, “The Boundaries and Essence of Orthodoxy” is reflective of the concern in Centrist Orthodoxy to establish boundaries. Lest it be assumed that this was simply one individual’s concern, an opinion piece in the Jewish Week several weeks later highlighted what its author sees as the necessity of “Determining the Parameters of Modern Orthodoxy.”[9]

Why, one may ask, this fixation with setting boundaries and establishing parameters? That may have made sense for Judaism in mid-twentieth-century America, when it was comprised of competing denominations, each of which claimed legitimacy and authenticity and threatened the others.[10] In such a situation, there may well be a need for each to develop techniques of boundary maintenance, to clearly distinguish itself from other denominations. But this is the twenty-first century, and the denominational character of American Judaism has changed dramatically. As the recent Pew report indicates, the biggest challenge is the increasing number of Jews who do not identify religiously, period. Orthodoxy is growing—among those who identify as Jewish by religion they are now 12 percent, up 2 percent since the 2001 and 6 percent since 1990, according to the National Jewish Population Surveys for those years. Moreover, the Pew study indicates that the fact that American Orthodox Jews “are much younger, on average, and tend to have much larger families than the overall Jewish population, . . . suggests that their share of the Jewish population will grow.”[11] Orthodoxy thus has little to fear from Conservative Judaism, a movement that is apparently shrinking quickly, and there is no longer (assuming there once was) any need build a solid barrier against other denominations. Quite the contrary, those for whom Judaism is meaningful are seeking to intensify their religiosity and many want to identify with Orthodoxy. Does Orthodoxy need to fear that people who might not otherwise daven, pray, will now do so in earnest? It also appears that, with respect to the issues under discussion, Orthodoxy need not fear the old “slippery slope” that legitimated so many humrot in the past. Why, then, the concern about boundaries? [12]

This, of course, does not mean agreeing with everything that passes or tries to pass as acceptable. There are many things that other observant people do that I don’t care for. One may have no desire to daven in a Shira Hadasha-type congregation and even feel uncomfortable doing so without questioning the religious sincerity of those who do. Similarly, there are Modern Orthodox women who have neither need nor desire to don tefillin, but can readily understand that there are sincere, religious women who do. Indeed, castigating them derisively contrasts with the sage and constructive advice of Kohelet (9:17), “The words of the wise are heard [when spoken] softly,” and will almost certainly not bring them any closer what their detractors view as “authentic” Orthodoxy. A concern solely with what is deemed to be “authentic,” regardless of what consequences that may have for others, is much more characteristic of the Hareidi “saving remnant” approach, i.e., the “purists” who view the majority as hopelessly lost and concern themselves with solely with preserving their own purity.

Ironically, although the emphasis is on establishing boundaries on the left, the real issue is on the right. Looking at the numbers, my friend may well have been correct when he referred to Centrist/Modern Orthodoxy’s “inferiority complex” vis-à-vis Hareidim. Much to the chagrin of most of its constituents, the proportion of Centrist/Modern Orthodoxy is decreasing. Until recently, it was estimated that the Modern Orthodox comprise as much as two-thirds of American Orthodox Jewry. The ratio has apparently now changed. According to the 2011 UJA-Federation of New York’s Jewish Community Study of New York, in the city with the largest Orthodox population in the country, the Modern Orthodox are a minority, comprising only 43 percent of the city’s Orthodox population. The majority, 57 percent, are “Hasidic & Yeshivish.”[13] Further, the Pew Center found the proportion of Modern Orthodox to be even lower in the country as a whole. Of those identified as Orthodox, two-thirds are “Ultra-Orthodox” and one-third are “Modern Orthodox.” [14]

If Centrist/Modern Orthodoxy’s increasing minority status is the reason that has an inferiority complex, one might expect it to be much more open and welcoming to those on its left flank. It is the traditionalists in non-Orthodoxy that are the most likely candidates for joining Modern Orthodoxy, but they would only do so if they felt welcome. That does not mean that Centrist/Modern Orthodoxy needs to agree with everything that some of its constituents do. No one is forced to join a partnership minyan, and no women are forced to don tefilin. At the same time, it is counterproductive to dispassionately and sneeringly castigate and reject those who sincerely want to be draw closer to God and do mitzvoth as they view them.

In earlier times, Modern Orthodox manifested the credo of Rabbi Akiva,
“Love thy neighbor as thyself.” Modern Orthodoxy was much more open and, indeed, reached out to the non-Orthodox with compassion. Ironically, as Adam Ferziger has shown, it is now the products of Lakewood who, in addition to Chabad, are the ones engaged in outreach.[15] Modern Orthodoxy has pulled back from outreach and many seem to have adopted the interpretation of Rabbi Akiva’s 24,000 students, whose death is commemorated during the days of the Counting of the Omer. They allegedly interpreted their teacher’s credo as, “Love thy neighbor when he is as thyself,” when he thinks and acts as you do, but not when he thinks and acts differently.

[1] Statistical Abstract of Israel 2013, p. 340, Table 7.1.
[2] “It's All Relative: The Contemporary Orthodox Jewish Family in America,” Conversations, No. 5, Autumn 2009, pp. 1–17.
[3] Rabbi Marc Angel and Rabbi Avi Weiss, "‘And you shall love the proselyte,’” Jerusalem Post, April 22, 2014, p. 13.
[4] Gerald J. Blidstein, “Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik’s Letters on Public Affairs,” Torah u-Madda Journal 15, 2008–09, p. 15. A Hebrew version appears in Yosef Da'at: Studies in Modern Jewish History in Honor of Yosef Salmon, Yossi Goldstein, ed., Beer Sheva: Ben-Gurion University of the Negev Press, 2010, pp. 67–84.
[5] On the ideology of Da’as Torah, see Lawrence Kaplan, "Daas Torah: A Modern Conception of Rabbinic Authority,” in Moshe Sokol, ed., Rabbinic Authority and Personal Autonomy (Orthodox Forum Series), Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, 1992, pp. 1–60.
[6] “Women in Tefillin and Partnership Minyanim: A Response to Rabbi Herschel Schachter,” The Commentator, Feb. 19, 2014.
[7] http://www.rcarabbis.org/pdf/Rabbi_Schachter_new_letter.pdf and http://www.joshyuter.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/RHS-on-Women-Wearing-Tefill….
[8] The Commentator, Feb. 21, 2014 and March 4, 2014.
[9] The Jewish Week, March 24, 2014.
[10] Another reason that there is greater tolerance among dati’im in Israel is the much greater ethnic heterogeneity among Israel’s Jews and the fact that Ashkenazim are the numerical minority there. In contrast to Ashkenazi denominationalism, Sephardim, the Edot Mizrah, Yemenites, and others never experienced denominationalism in their cultures.
[11] Pew Reseach Center, “A Portrait of Jewish American,” Oct. 1, 2013, p. 10.
[12] Some are so fixated on boundaries that they are ready to exclude from Orthodoxy an entire movement that is arguably contributing more to it than any of its other components.
[13] UJA-Federation of New York, “Jewish Community Study of New York: 2011, Comprehensive Report,” Exhibit 7-1, p. 212.
[14] Pew, “A Portrait of Jewish American,” p. 48.
[15] Adam Ferziger, "From Lubavitch to Lakewood: The Chabadization of American Orthodoxy," Modern Judaism, Vol. 33, No. 2, May 2013, pp. 101–124.

Until the early twentieth century, women in most countries
had limited roles in civic life. In 1917, for example only
five countries in Europe allowed women to vote—
Finland, Norway, Denmark, Iceland, and Soviet Russia. The women’s suffrage
movement in the United States and Europe was ultimately successful
in gaining the vote for women, but victory came only after a period of
protracted social and political agitation.

The issue of women’s right to vote and to be elected to office were subject
to heated controversy among the Jewish community in the land of
Israel beginning in 1917. Zvi Zohar, in an article about the debates concerning
women’s suffrage which raged in the land of Israel 1918-1921,
noted that the rabbinical leadership of the Ashkenazic Old Yishuv was
generally opposed to granting women the rights to vote and be elected to
office. On the other hand, the Sephardic leadership generally favored these
rights for women. (see Zvi Zohar’s article in Sephardi and Middle Eastern
Jewries: History and Culture, edited by Harvey Goldberg, Indiana
University Press, 1996, pp. 119-133.)

Zohar pointed out that the leading Ashkenazic rabbinical figure,
Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, was adamantly opposed to letting women
become involved in political life. He argued that the Torah tradition relegated
civic authority to men, and that women were to remain in the private,
domestic domain He rejected the “modern innovation” of allowing
women political involvement, believing that this was a threat to traditional
Jewish morality and family life. (See Rabbi A. I. Kook, Ma’amarei ha-
RaAY’aH, Jerusalem, 1984, pp. 189-194.)

Zohar views Rabbi Benzion Uziel as the most articulate spokesman of
the opinion shared by most of the Sephardic rabbis of the time. Rabbi
Uziel’s approach differed substantially from that of Rabbi Kook (Piskei
Uziel, no. 44; Mishpetei Uziel, 5700, no. 6.)

Rabbi Uziel rejected the opinion that innovation was necessarily an
evil. On the contrary, innovation may be embraced where there was no
clear Torah prohibition involved. Concerning the question of whether
women should be allowed to vote, Rabbi Uziel argued that
we have not found any clear foundation to forbid. It is unreasonable to
deprive women of this human right, since in these elections we choose our
leaders and give our elected representatives the power to speak in our
names, to arrange the affairs of our settlement and to tax our property.
Women, directly or indirectly, accept the authority of those elected, and
obey their rulings and communal and national laws” (ibid.).

Rabbi Uziel said that it was unjust to expect women to follow the decisions
of the elected officials if they did not even have the right to participate
in the election in the first place.

Some opponents found rabbinic sources indicating that women’s
understanding was limited. Therefore, they reasoned, women should not
be allowed to vote. To this, Rabbi Uziel stated that there were many men
with limited understanding: Should they too be deprived of the right to
vote? Moreover, Rabbi Uziel indicated that women were endowed with
intelligence and sound judgment, no less than men. Simply looking at the
actual situation today would prove that women were quite capable and
competent to vote. (For more on women’s intellectual capacities see
Sha’arei Uziel, vol. 1, pp 124, 200.)

Rabbi Uziel dismissed the argument that allowing women to vote
would threaten morality and family life. What immorality could ensue
from allowing women to go to the ballot box to register their votes? If the
worry was that men and women would mix together in a public venue,
then we would have to prohibit people from walking in the street or going
to a store where men women might be together. We would have to forbid
any business conducted between men and women. But no one had ever
made such ridiculous suggestions. Why then did they raise this specific
argument when it came to voting?

One opponent wrote that women should not be allowed to vote
because they were excluded from official status in Biblical times. Rabbi
Uziel brushed this objection aside, noting that it had no bearing on the
question at hand. Women, as well as men, were created in God’s image.
They had a basic right to be able to vote for those who would have authority
to pass laws which they would have to obey. Not only was there no prohibition
to letting women vote, said Rabbi Uziel, but depriving them
would be unjust and would cause them humiliation and pain.

Having resolved that women should be granted the right to vote,
Rabbi Uziel then turned to the question of whether women had the right
to be elected. Halakhic literature includes the notion that women should
not be in positions of authority over men. Rabbi Uziel analyzed these
sources carefully, concluding that there was no objection to a woman
being in a position of authority—if the community willingly accepted her.
Thus, women could be elected to office, since their very election demonstrated
that the public accepted their authority. Rabbi Uziel further argued
that when women and men sat together in public deliberations, this did
not constitute a threat to morality and family life. These were not social
events but serious conversations and debates on major issues.

In conclusion, Rabbi Uziel ruled that women were permitted to vote
and to be elected. This view obviously came to prevail in the land of Israel.
In another responsum (Piskei Uziel, no. 43; Mishpetei Uziel, 5700, no.
5), Rabbi Uziel found halakhic grounds to permit women to serve as
judges as long as the community accepted their authority to judge. Yet, he
harbored doubts as to whether a woman should serve as a judge, even
though she might be permitted to do so. Rabbi Uziel felt that women were
innately compassionate and sensitive and that their judgments would be
colored by their emotions. Moreover, he thought that women should
devote their time and talents to raising their children rather than to
assume the burdensome responsibilities of a judge. Although he personally
did not approve of women serving as judges, he was intellectually honest
enough to present the halakhic justification to permit women judges.
Those who disagreed with his personal feelings could still find halakhic
authority in his arguments to allow women to serve as judges.

Rabbi Uziel likewise found halakhic grounds to accept women as witnesses
in civil cases when the public agreed to this practice. However, he
ruled unequivocally that women could not serve as witnesses in matters
of marriage and divorce since no communal ordinance could overrule the
Torah law prohibiting female witnesses in these areas. (Rabbi Uziel’s statements
are included in R. Herzog, Tehukah le-Yisrael, vol. 3, pp. 66—67.)
The newly established state of Israel passed legislation guaranteeing
the equal rights of men and women. Women were granted economic
equality, including the right to inherit. Halakha, though, does not grant
full economic equality to women nor does it generally allow women to
inherit. Rather, Halakha provides its own ways of protecting the economic
interests of women while at the same time granting women the full
opportunity to devote themselves to their families. Indeed, women had
the essential role of seeing to the well-being of their children and were
therefore exempted from certain financial responsibilities which would
interfere with child rearing.

In these areas, Rabbi Uziel argued that the Halakha was far better for
the interests of women than the modern legislation granting economic
equality. He felt that rabbinical courts, following the teachings of Halakha,
should be authoritative in cases of financial disputes involving women. He
called on the government of Israel not to attempt to force the rabbis to cast
aside Halakha: They would never do so; they would struggle courageously
to maintain the halakhic standards. (See ibid., pp. 68—72; and Shaarei
Uziel, vol. 1, pp. 124, 200—201; and vol. 2, pp. 203ff.)

From the above discussion, it is clear that Rabbi Uziel blended his profound
traditionalism with a remarkable sensitivity to modern conditions.
His rulings were animated by the view that halakha was the sine qua non
of proper Jewish life and that the interests and needs of women—and
men—were best met by fidelity to the classic teachings of Jewish law.

We are thrilled by the creative programming of our Campus Fellows across the country and in Canada. Here is a brief summary of their latest activities.

Thank you all for your support,

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

National Scholar, Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals

Yona Benjamin, Columbia

On Shabbat April 12-13, I will be co-sponsoring a small Shabbaton for Columbia students with the Moishe House of the Upper West Side. We thought it would be nice to bring together some undergraduates from Columbia and some of the young professionals on the UWS (many of whom are Columbia grads) to spend time together over Shabbat. There will be a number of peer led shiurim throughout the weekend surrounding the theme of "how we can understand the laws relating to Avodah Zarah in our contemporary lives."  There will also be a Melaveh Malka which I am helping to organize.  I will be pitching the University Network to all participants and hope to bring some copies of the publication to distribute. 

Corey Gold, Harvard

This semester we hosted Sarah Cheses, a graduate of Nishmat's Yoetzet Halacha Program. She gave a shiur to undergraduates and community members on Sunday, February 3 titled "Assisted Reproduction and Gender Selection: Playing G-d?” It was really successful. Everyone enjoyed welcoming her and hearing her teach Torah.

Then, February 8–10 we hosted an off-campus shabbaton for Orthodox undergrads. Though we have a strong and broad Orthodox Minyan community at Harvard Hillel of grad students, young professionals, etc. and a dynamic, pluralistic Hillel undergraduate community, this was a unique opportunity for just the Orthodox undergraduates to spend Shabbat together. 27 undergraduates came––a significant increase in the number of participants since last year when we started the program. Throughout the weekend, students enjoyed Shabbat, reflected together, and learned Torah from a fellow student.

Mikey Pollack and Aryeh Roberts, University of Maryland

At UMD, we are planning on running the following two events. 

On March 31, we hosted a a “Chessed and Chabura” learning event, cosponsored with Kedma. Together we packaged $700 worth of food to be disturbed to DC families who need it via Jewish Social Services. We then had three separate charburas to learn about different aspects of chessed. Overall about 30 people showed up. 

The second is UMD's annual Sermon Slam, a Jewish poetry slam centered around a Jewish theme. It is always a really powerful event. 

Yoni Gutenmacher, University of Pennsylvania

I hosted a Shabbat lunch with 25 guests during which we explored the topic of family history with a particularly Jewish perspective. Everyone shared snippets of his/her family history and heritage before we entered a discussion on the values of Jewish history and questions arising from it.

I also hosted a Shabbat lunch together with two other students who are particularly passionate about Chassidut. At the lunch, we sang zmirot, shared divrei Torah and spoke about how Chassidut both informs and is informed by our contemporary culture.

Devora Chait, Queens College

This semester, we are running two mishmar events called "Pop-Up Mishmars", where 2-3 students each give a 10-minute dvar Torah followed by a group discussion and socializing. One will be a week before Pesach, and one will be the last Thursday night of the semester.

Jakob Glogauer, Ryerson University

Event 1:  Discussion on History of Jewish people. Participants gained a new understanding of the history of the Jewish people in a modern context. Major detail on Exodus from Egypt and exile from Israel eras. 

Event 2: Purim in the 21st Century. Conversations on how the story of Purim exists in 2019. Participants debated and conversed in their opinions on this matter. Emphasis was put on how religion plays a big part in daily life. 

Ari Barbalat, University of Toronto

In the past months, I undertook a few attempts at holding programs. The program topics were:

A) The English Renaissance Play “The Jew of Malta” by Christopher Marlowe

This topic intended to discuss this controversial play from Shakespeare’s time which has generated analogous controversy to its more famous counterpart The Merchant of Venice. Is the play bad as scholars say it is? What lessons can we learn from both the text and the conversation surrounding it? What is the true character of racism? 

B) Stories of Self-Harm in Judaism that Most People Don’t Know 

This lecture examined texts from the Apocrypha depicting the psychology of self-harm: Tobit, Sirach, Fourth Maccabees, and others. What can these texts teach us about this psychology? How do they challenge contemporary conceptions of self-harm? Why are they on the periphery of Judaism?

Last term I did two programs.

A) Jewish Philosophy and the Yemenite Children Affair

What happened during the infamous Yemenite Children Affair in Israel? How can we philosophically and theologically come to terms with it? I did this during Parashat Vayechi during the Joseph story saga and tried to connect the kidnappings to the Joseph story.

B) What Can Medieval Jewish and Islamic Philosophy Teach the Contemporary World?

What similarities exist between Jewish and Islamic philosophers in the Middle Ages? How can the differences and similarities between them address contemporary concerns over psychology, sociology and politics?

Yonatan Abrams and Ora Friedman, Yeshiva University

On April 9, Shira Hecht Koller gave a Tanach shiur called "Texts that anchor, texts that fly" about the 28th chapter of Genesis. She made a pitch to join the 929 program, and everyone walked away with various Conversations journals.

Our next event is coming up on Tuesday, May 7. It is with Rabbi Chaim Hagler, Head of School of Yeshivat Noam, who is speaking on the topic of the latest issue of Conversations, “The Impact of Jewish Education on Moral Character and Development.”

To our members and friends

It has been an incredibly productive spring with our Institute programs and classes. We continue to build bridges throughout the community and promote our vision in communities, college campuses, and schools.

Here are some upcoming highlights:

On Shabbat, May 3-4, I will be the scholar-in-residence at Congregation Ohav Sholom in Manhattan (270 West 84^th Street, between Broadway and West End Avenue). Please see here for the schedule: https://www.jewishideas.org/rabbi-hayyim-angel-scholar-residence-congregation-ohav-sholom-manhattan

On Shabbat, June 1, I will be the scholar-in-residence at Congregation Bnai Yeshurun in Teaneck, New Jersey (641 West Englewood Avenue).

On Sunday-Monday June 23-24, I will present four papers at the Yeshivat Chovevei Torah Yemei Iyun on Bible and Jewish Thought. The annual conference is co-sponsored by the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, and I participate every year. For a complete schedule and registration information, see here https://www.yctorah.org/giving/yemeiiyun/

Our Campus Fellows of our University Network continue to run effective programming through the United States and Canada. Please see our latest report here https://www.jewishideas.org/article/campus-fellows-report-may-2019

If you know of eligible university students who would be good Campus Fellows for the 2019-2020 academic year, please have them contact me at [email protected], or have them go online here https://www.jewishideas.org/university-network/application. Applicants first must join the University Network, which is free, here https://www.jewishideas.org/civicrm/contribute/transact?reset=1&id=9

I continue to serve as the Tanakh Education Scholar at Ben Porat Yosef Yeshiva Day School in Paramus, New Jersey. Ben Porat Yosef creates a complete feeling of what the Ashkenazic and Sephardic worlds of thought, halakhah, custom, and history can do to complement one another, very much in line with our vision at the Institute. We are currently developing an innovative Bible program for grades 1-8 that likewise reflects our deepest values at the Institute, which combine commitment to tradition with critical-mindedness, openness to ideas, and a rationalist, non-fundamentalist approach to sacred texts. It is a privilege partnering with this singular institution.

I also am the guest editor for Conversations 34, which will feature a collection of Rabbi Marc D. Angel’s essays in celebration of his fifty years in the rabbinate. We also plan on holding several events in honor of this momentous occasion in the coming year.

If you have not yet seen our two symposia on Conversion and Ethics, please see them here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GG17aaahdPQ and here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OjL_o2e4B68.

As always, thank you for all of your support, and we will continue to spread our vision to educators, university students, and the broader Jewish community.

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

National Scholar

Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals

At this time of crisis, we pray that Hashem will bless all of us with good health and wellbeing. I offer this interpretation of a passage in the Haggadah and hope it provides a framework for coping better.

The Haggadah tells of five sages who observed Pessah in Benei Berak. They lived in the generation following the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. The situation was exceedingly bleak.

The Haggadah describes them as mesubin, reclining. They acted as though they were noblemen. They studied Torah all night, as though everything was right in the world. They dreamed of a new redemption. By their example, they were teaching: yes, the reality outside is frightening—but we are not afraid. We have a vision, a grander reality in our minds. We foresee happy Jewish families around their Seder tables; we foresee flourishing Torah study; we foresee the reconstitution of the Jewish State.

The students witnessed their rabbis’ sense of a larger reality.  “Our teachers, we now see that there is a new dawn. You are leading us through the darkness of night.”

These sages taught their generation—and all future generations—not to lose heart at times of crisis. With Hashem’s help, we will overcome.

Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Eliezer were the elders; Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Tarfon were of the next generation; Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah was younger. The students who attended them were younger. When all the generations can confront shared problems together, a new day will dawn.

As our sages of old envisioned a better future, so let us look forward to a new and blessed dawn.

It seems to have become "politically correct" to speak of narratives, rather than to focus on historical truth. This tendency is blatantly evident in some discussions about Israel and the Palestinian Arabs. We are told that each group has its own narrative, implying that each group clings to its own version of truth and should be respected for its views. This approach--seemingly objective and non-judgmental--actually leads to the distortion of facts and undermining of historic truth.  It simply is not true to say--as some Palestinian spokespeople say in their narrative--that the land of Israel is the historic homeland of Palestinian Arabs.  It isn't a "Jewish narrative" that Israel is the Jewish homeland; it is historically true. It has been true since biblical times; it was true during Temple days in antiquity; it was true through the nearly 2000 years of exile in which Jews prayed facing Jerusalem and yearned for the return to their holy land; it is true based on the ongoing presence of Jews in the land of Israel throughout the ages, based on archaeological evidence, based on archives, documents, photographs etc.

For there to be peace between Israel and its neighbors, it is essential to seek truth, not "narratives."  Here are a few historical facts that must be understood.

The Muslim Ottoman Empire controlled the land of Israel for hundreds of years.  Relatively few Jews lived in the holy land during those centuries. The Ottoman Empire could very easily have established a Muslim country in the land of Israel with Jerusalem as its capital city. The thought never occurred to them!  "Palestine" was a poor backwater of little significance; Jerusalem was an old, decrepit city that no one (except Jews) cared very much about. There was no call for a "Palestinian State", and no claim that Jerusalem should be a capitol of a Muslim country.

Between 1948 and 1967,  Jordan controlled the West Bank and the Old City of Jerusalem. Egypt controlled Gaza. Neither Jordan nor Egypt ceded one inch of territory to Palestinian Arab rule. Neither suggested the need for a Palestinian country, nor took any steps in the direction of creating a Palestinian State. Jordan did not declare Jerusalem as a capital city of Palestinians.

In June 1967, Israel defeated its implacable Arab enemies in the remarkable Six Days War. In the process, Israel took control of the Sinai, the Gaza Strip, the West Bank and the Old City of Jerusalem.  In making peace with Egypt, Israel ceded the Sinai to Egypt. In attempting to create conciliatory gestures to Palestinian Arabs, Israel ceded much of the West Bank and Gaza to the Palestinian Authority. Israel is the only country in the world to have given territory to the Palestinian Arabs. Israel has a legitimate claim to much of this territory, but for the sake of peace decided to forego pressing its claims.

Although no Muslim or Arab nation, when having control of Jerusalem, the West Bank and Gaza, created (or even suggested creating) a Palestinian State with a capital of Jerusalem--the current propaganda in the "politically correct" world is: the Palestinian Arabs have a right to their own State with Jerusalem as capital.

Why did this "politically correct" position gain so much credence? Why is the "international community" so concerned--even enraged--that President Trump has recognized Jerusalem as the capital of Israel? Don't they all know that Israel's claim to Jerusalem goes back 3000 years, and that Jews have prayed facing Jerusalem from time immemorial?  Don't both Christianity and Islam recognize the sanctity of the Hebrew Bible--a Bible that highlights the centrality of Jerusalem in so many texts?

When the land of Israel was a desolate, poor backwater, no one cared much about it. But once Jews came and revitalized the land--suddenly people started to take notice. Jews planted farms, developed progressive agricultural techniques, built cities, roads, schools, universities. Suddenly, this desolate backwater became desirable due to the labor and ingenuity of Jews.  Before the Six Day War, no one cared much about the desolate West Bank or the poverty-stricken Gaza Strip or the poorly maintained Old City of Jerusalem. But once Israel took control and started to turn these places into beautiful, modern areas--then these places became desirable. Once the Jews had made so many improvements, now claims were made on behalf of Palestinian Arabs that they should have all these things themselves.

The world has not been too bothered by the Arab economic boycott of Israel; by constant threats of war; by a steady flow of rockets shot into Israel; by ongoing terrorism against Israel and Israeli targets. But when Israel defends itself against these attacks, it is more likely that Israel will be condemned by the nations of the world than that the perpetrators of crimes and murder against Israel will be condemned.

Certainly, Israel is not a perfect country; and there is no doubt that it has made errors in its policies--as has every other country on the face of the earth.  But Israel has a right to flourish and to enjoy the fruits of its labors and creativity and idealistic endeavors. Israel does not ask to be judged more kindly than any other nation--only that it should not be judged less kindly than any other nation.

The current "politically correct" propaganda ignores hundreds of years of history of the holy land; ignores the rights of the people of Israel; ignores truth.

If we are to have peace between Israel and the Palestinians (and the rest of the Arab world), it would be most helpful if people understood the historic context of the unrest, if both sides strove to establish a spirit of mutual respect, if both sides focused on how much benefit all would have if a just and fair peace were to be in place. Misguided individuals and countries who forget history, who ignore or deny Israel's rights, who look the other way when Israel is maligned and attacked--such people are part of the problem, not the solution.

As we read in Psalm 122: Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: may they prosper who love thee.

Setting the Stage

An Ashkenazi guy walks into evening services ten years ago at a synagogue close to his home, looking for a place to say kaddish daily for his mother who had just passed.  This synagogue up the street was Sephardic.  The culture was different than what he knew.   There was a new nusach for prayer and a new pronunciation of Hebrew, amongst a minyan with obvious generations-old connections.  Most knew the service by heart.  The stranger was greeted, given a siddur and many times congregants checked to make sure he was following along.   There was seriousness and lightheartedness.  The damp, cold Seattle late winter night was surrounded by the warmth of the congregants and their ancestors’ homelands.  The Ashkenazi guy left with a new vocabulary: ma’ariv was really arvit, and instead of davening at shul, we had gathered for tefillah at the kehillah.  Kaddish had new words and hashkava was chanted.  The hazzan graciously prepared a meldado schedule for the coming year.  And maybe, just maybe, the visitor’s maternal grandmother’s maiden name Shprintzen was from the Spanish, esperanza.

That was my first day in, for me, a brand-new Jewish world at Congregation Ezra Bessaroth.  Seven years after my first visit, I was asked to serve as president of the kehillah. By then the minyan guys had become sources of comfort, support and spiritual growth and the kal became a temporal and spiritual home.  This essay, written with love and admiration, is in honor of Ezra Bessaroth, my community. 

I write this essay on sabbatical in Brooklyn, just a few weeks after concluding a two-year term as president.  Rabbi Marc Angel, an illustrious son of Ezra Bessaroth, graciously asked me to share my experiences as president, highlighting special characteristics of Sephardic congregations.  Rabbi Angel’s invitation led to weeks of sitting in front of a blank computer screen, stumped.  A simple recounting of the highs and lows of being president seemed empty.  There were good days and bad days.  I also am very aware that I have no special knowledge of Sephardic Judaism or of Orthodox Judaism, modern or otherwise. 

But what clicked finally was stories.  For many years I have provided pro bono psychotherapy to immigrants and refugees, one in a long line of Jewish psychologists to do that at International Medicine Clinic at Harborview Medical Center in Seattle.  My patients came from east Africa, Southeast Asia, Mexico and Central America.  You may ask how could individual psychotherapy, a method of healing born from the intellectual tradition of Western Europe, be used with patients whose lives, histories, experiences, and concepts of illness bear little relation to this tradition, or how I was trained to help as a psychologist.  At Harborview, I learned about culture and how it refers to layers of meaning, assumptions, practices and relationships in the context of history.  I learned to listen in new, deeper ways.  I became aware of what psychiatrist and anthropologist Arthur Kleinman referred to as the explanatory models¹ of my patients; the cultural, personal and interpersonal significance of their symptoms, how they explained why they were suffering and what it would take for them to get better.

In the words that follow, I will share stories and insights that arose for me during my time as president of a Sephardic congregation.  I will draw on the guidance of psychologists, anthropologists, philosophers and rabbis in discussing strengths and challenges.  I will come to this from the perspective of my passion, which is Jewish community that claims history, transmits traditions, gathers us, holds us, inspires us and carries us forward.  I write this knowing that EB, like many established Jewish congregations, is at a turning point and seeking models for our second century, a matter that consumed much of my time as president.  With your indulgence, I will do that from perspectives of my own Jewish history and being a learner, member and now former president of one of the oldest Sephardic and oldest Jewish congregations in America. 

Standing at the Margin and Looking In

By way of introduction, my Dad is a Shoah survivor from Berlin and my mom’s family hailed from Belarus.  I was raised and spent my adult life in Conservative synagogues, including serving on boards and as shaliach tzibur.  My Dad, too, was president of our synagogue growing up and we were fixtures at services year-round.  I studied religious thought and Jewish studies in college but finished my education in sociology at Brandeis before becoming a social worker and then a psychologist.  In the years before my mom’s passing, my day-to-day practice had flagged.  EB was my first traditional community.

Arthur Kleinman in Writing at the Margin², talked of the marginal predicament of Jews in the 20^th Century, the century of the Holocaust.  For my family it was a time of upheaval and displacement.  My father and grandparents had moved across continents, leaving behind centuries of family history.  Aside from some tales that were told, however, these events led to ruptures of historical continuity and historical memory.  Traditions were lost and identities disappeared.  In my home, trauma lurked behind nightmares and stern glances among adults that ended responses to questions from the children.  Growing up, I lived among children in similar situations, attending new suburban synagogues with traditions only a few years old.  (The synagogue of my youth, Temple Beth Am in Randolph, Massachusetts, recently closed its doors.)  For me, there was more wandering, as I went to colleges, lived in Israel, attended graduate schools and made homes in many locations around the country.  Settling in Seattle, I completed my education, started a family and established a career. We joined a Conservative congregation, miles from where we lived.

And then Mom died.  In her early seventies, she had sustained a spinal cord injury and was then found to have emphysema.  She died after a lengthy illness with growing losses of physical and mental faculties.   Mom was mostly cared for by my father, and I was thousands of miles away.  After returning to Seattle from her funeral and shiva, I arrived at arvit at EB on a damp March evening, on the margins and looking for more than I knew. 

Time

In my fifth grade Hebrew school class our teacher, Mr. Skupsky, explained his theory of time.  He pointed to one post in the room marking our birth and to a second post, marking our death.  Everything was linear in between, in exact order.  Our empirical society with its multiple digital readouts encourages such a linear view of time.  A linear view of time has its merits.  We all like to be on time for our flight and get bills in on deadlines. Heaven forbid that we need to invoke the laws for arriving late at synagogue for tefillah. 

Yet, as Jews we know that time means something different and works differently.  The first sanctification in Torah is of time, of Shabbat, and our first mitzvah, before the Aseret Hadibrot, is to sanctify time, the new month, rosh hodesh.  On our festival holidays we say a blessing for the Holy One who blesses Israel who in turn blesses time, zemanim.  Shabbat, shemitah and yovel are points in time where we are reminded that the earth and all its peoples and riches are A’Shem’s.  Our patriarchs are famous for initiating prayer at certain times of the day.  Rabbis Abraham Joshua Heschel and Jonathan Sacks describe time as the arena of the Divine-human encounter.

Jewish time is not straightforward. It does not have a simple linear past, present and future.  I am always surprised when reminded that events in Torah are not in linear order.  In Biblical Hebrew past tense is often denoted by verbs in the future tense.  Conversations in Talmud occur between scholars who lived hundreds of years apart.  We are reminded that Jews of all generations, including generations to come, received the Torah at Sinai.  Not only do we recount yetziat mitzrayim at our seder, but we are commanded to approach the evening as if we ourselves were preparing for the perilous journey.

Philosophers have also questioned the linear view of time in ways that are consistent with Jewish theology.  Henri Bergson was a Jewish French philosopher and Nobel Prize winner.  Shortly before his passing in 1941, and on his deathbed, due to his fame and intellectual prominence he was offered the opportunity by the French government to pass into the non-Jewish population, but he instead opted to register as a Jew.  Bergson thought a lot about time³.  Here is an example that illustrates Bergson’s point.  One can look at a cell under a microscope and determine its functioning in some present moment.  Yet the cell carries history, through its DNA, and the cell in the present moment combines the past as the life of the cell moves into the future.  To Bergson, the present carries with it everything that has ever happened and affects the present; he even went as far as to claim that the past lives in the present.  The present is an actuality and the past is virtual existence carried by memory, story and ritual.  The present is a realm where the past and potentials for the future interact and simultaneously exist.

Why all this focus on time and what does it have to do with a small Sephardic synagogue in Seattle?  At least for me and my family, Jewish time is discontinuous.  Relatives, the memory of relatives, traditions and connections were lost in the events of the 20^th century. One of the great things of living in Brooklyn is attending events at the Center for Jewish History where I can see glimpses of my family’s past; yet that time is sequestered in a museum. 

At EB, and I can imagine at other Sephardic kehillot, time works differently.  The past, history, historic DNA is embedded in the day-day present moment and influences how we think of the future.  Ezra Bessaroth sits on a lovely and large property in the Seward Park section of Seattle.  We overlook Lake Washington, a majestic park with old growth forest and on good days we see bald eagles.  The blooms of our majestic decades old cherry tree herald the spring festivals.  If you can, add to this an architecturally wondrous sanctuary built of cedar timbers with an inspiring series of stained-glass installations. 

This is also a sanctuary built to seat over eight hundred people. I’ve been told that in the past it was full many times a year.  At EB, like many American synagogues and churches, the past decades have seen a decline in membership.  While our founders were visionary in many ways, a fund for upkeep of an architecturally complex structure was never set up.  To the son of a good German accountant that I am, the answer was clear.  Let’s leverage our property, move back into a smaller space and with our profits set up an operations endowment.

Horror understates the reaction to this proposal.  I was led by congregants and introduced to ancestors whose names adorn plaques, sifrei Torah, art installations, and offices.  I was taken to our Presidents’ Lounge to be introduced to our illustrious hakhamim and rabbanim, and to all the past presidents of the kehillah and the Ezra Bessaroth Ladies Auxiliary.  Just outside in our courtyard is a reproduction of the Holocaust memorial in Rhodes.  I was offered another copy of Ezra Bessaroth: The Story of a Sephardic Congregation in case I had not read it closely enough before.  Might I like to look at newsletters from the 50s, or 40s or 30s?

At the time, and even up until starting this essay, I attributed this reaction to stubbornness.  However, I think the issue is more one of time.  I approached things with a linear view of time; the past is past, here we are in the present and we can make rational decisions about the future based on projections and balance sheets.  After all, I grew up with accounts of split second and often terrible decisions that needed to be made in order to save lives.  History was a luxury and the future often not beyond the next meal or train ticket. 

The kehillah was responding more out of Bergson’s view of time; the present and past virtually existing together in a realm that allows us to imagine our future, time as lived.

Let me describe some ways this happens.  Many of my good friends at EB, like Albert, Albie, Ike, Julie and Victor can be seen with their namesakes on Shabbat and festivals.  In turn, the people they were named for are known and present.  It is not unusual to have discussions of family trees and to discuss children and children’s children and where they all are.  Another example of the present being a realm for past and future is in the EB approach to liturgy.  There is painstaking exactitude in reading and pronunciation of Hebrew, reading sefer and hazzanut, according to traditional Rhodesli practice.  Some of this may reflect the personality of our beloved Hazzan Emeritus, and former Boeing engineer, Ike Azose, but stories of others of our founders suggest that it is broader than that.   Pronunciation, taamim and service leadership is a forum in time.  

I came from a tradition where traditional Ashekenzi pronunciation was mixed with modern Hebrew pronunciation.  Tefillah melodies were freely improvised, even to include secular tunes.   I contrast this to the careful vetting that was required by Hazzan Azose and Rabbi Shimon Benzaquen even to begin to use a traditional Ladino romanza melody, La Rosa Enflorece, for Shabbat kiddush at EB over the past two years. 

While life is lived forward, we look back, and back much further than the five generations currently at EB.  EB’s High Holiday liturgy is filled with medieval poems from Spain.  But it is not only on special occasions that time is invoked.  I often have wondered why.  Looking from the outside, I think part of it is history.  There have been centuries to cope with the traumas of the expulsions from Spain and Portugal.   There is a common founding story with uniting lines of scholarship, liturgy, art and minhagim that provides a crucible for continuity and identity through all the subsequent changes and traumas Sephardim experienced in the lands of their dispersion.  But it is more than even that.  The scholarship, literature, art and minhagim were not the subjects of detached history.  I think of my family or of my patients at Harborview Medical Center with communities split apart and who struggle to regain the sense of time that seems to come so easily at Ezra Bessaroth.  I write this knowing EB’s history and the migration from Rhodes to America.  Not only were individual lives saved and changed, a community migrated, and a community reconstituted in a new land.   Past, present and future are integrated into a living community that has managed to maintain identity, integrity, to be a living community in time.   

Community

Several writers, many Jewish, discuss relationships, meaning, connection, and community.  Psychologist Urie Bronfenbrenner⁴ took child development out of the lab to identify the role of active mutual accommodation between person and environment and surmised that we come to be defined, to become ourselves, through patterns of face-to-face interactions.  Psychiatrist John Bowlby and psychologist Mary Ainsworth⁵ studied separation and what they came to call attachment.  They identified how through countless intimate encounters between children and parents, humans form mental models of relationships and how the emotional and moral world works, models that carry on even after the parting of our attachment figures as the children become adults.  Rabbi J. Soleveitchik⁶ saw in Adam II, the lonely man of faith, existential loneliness alleviated by, and yearning for companionship attained in a covenantal community.  Martin Buber discussed the distinction between the world to be used and the world to be met. “True community” to Buber arises through people “taking their stand in living in mutual relation with a living center and their being in living mutual relation with one another.^”7  The columnist David Brooks talks about “thick” organizations that “become part of a person’s identity, engage the whole person: head, hands, heart and soul.^”8  In thick organizations we share rituals, sacred stories and watch out for one another. 

Teva means ark.  Last fall, I had the honor to read sefer at my cousin’s daughter’s bat mitzvah, perasha Noah.  I had not before connected the perasha with EB.  The teva at EB sits in the middle of the sanctuary with congregants and officers on all sides.  Before us, atop another ark, our aron, we read da lifnay mi atah omed, know before Whom you stand. Imagine the scene of congregants, some in seats their parents, grandparents and great grandparents occupied, other in seats that have just become home.  People move seats over the course of services.  There are piles of texts everywhere.  The mehitza is close with communication over and to the side as greetings are exchanged and babies passed.  Elders are helped to their seats.  The children make their candy rounds.  The teens stagger in and fall back asleep.  Some pray silently, some pray aloud, many pray through talking with their friends and neighbors.  Some pick up their study from the prior service.  Some, like the president, pray for the 60-year-old heating system to not fail.  Some are there for Hodu l’Ashem at the very start and some come in time for Adon Olam at the end.

Most weeks there are congregants who come from five different continents.  While Sephardim are still a majority of the congregation, that majority is no longer overwhelming, with Mizrachi and Ashekenazi Jews being a growing part of the congregation.  Jews whose families trace themselves to Rhodes may no longer be a majority of the Sephardim at EB.  Some congregants are meticulous in their Shabbat and day-day practices, some are there because they are Sephardic, and this is simply where they belong even as their lives have gone in different directions.  Many of us are in between, building, adapting, learning and trying very hard.

The room is abuzz and at the center is our teva, home to our hazzanim, hakhamim and gabbai.  It is large, seats six, and stands about five feet high.  There are cabinets galore whose doors open to a virtual geniza of material, birkhonim, siddurim, old messages.  In the coming hours prayers will be offered, and sefer read.  But much more than that will happen.   Members will purchase mitzvot and donate them to others.  Congregants will be called to Torah to choruses of bekhavod! and we will rise in honor of parents, spouses, friends and scholars.  Semahot, losses, wishes for healing, and comings and goings will be announced.  Worshippers will come forward, sometimes in long lines, sometimes from the seats, to offer donations, sometimes endless donations, as we affirm connections, heal rifts and honor our community.

A sacred duty for the EB president is to be on the teva for Shabbats and holidays, tracking the service with an old page turner whose metal numbers squeak when turned and was likely the project of a well-meaning youth many years ago.  In the past two years, I had a regular front row box seat to this community spectacle, to, in the words of Zorba the Greek and psychologist Jon Kabat Zinn, the full catastrophe, as I made rounds, checked in, congratulated honorees and thanked all for their generosity.

This is our community in time.  Services are not the only place for community, but this picture says everything about community at EB.  While it is fiercely traditional (I have been told by many that Orthodox is not a Sephardic term), it welcomes, supports and honors all of us no matter our level of practice or how we got there.  It is connection, affirmation, honoring and living Jewish life, past present and future, not in a museum or in a detached memory. 

Two years ago, we had a congregational summit and participants were asked what is the core, what needed to remain the same at EB even as we discuss the future.  The most common response was community.  There is a place at the table and always room for one more.  My friends at EB are from our founding families.  They are also from Iraq, Iran, Israel, Australia, Morocco, South Africa, Queens, Chicago, Detroit, Portland, California and small towns in Washington State.   The community provides safety and affirms connection, it holds and nurtures.  It is where we are reminded before Whom we stand.  It is where we come to enter, in Buber’s words, into mutual relationship with a living center and with each other.  I think community is how Sephardim have been able to carry time through history.

Coming in from the Margin: A Sephardic Way Forward

Architect Frank Gehry said in an interview that if he knew in advance where a project was going, he wouldn’t go there and that he lets projects evolve in response to a problem.  What began here as an exercise in organizational analysis has become a response to many problems.  One is a personal need for self-reflection, a search for meaning involving faith, fear, spiritual quest, and prayer for hope on the other side.  Another is a community needing to create sustainable models for its second century. 

I have often reflected on why I was asked to become president.  Others knew the community better, had greater fundraising skills, longer time in organizations and more refined spiritual practices.  I think that the search for meaning was mutual: we were all struggling for a way forward and someone outside the family was needed.  But none of us knew this in advance.  Arthur Kleinman said of the study of medicine and culture “we know much more than we can say or understand, we are awash in the meaning of experience; the historical flow and cultural elaboration of experience leads us to organize figures out of grounds, that are greatly relevant to particular occasions.^”9  We were all trying to put into words things that we could not describe, but we knew at a level beyond words that we could help each other. 

For me, there was the unconscious challenge of finding a Jewish home in a time of loss and transition.  Jews are masters at walking borders and boundaries.  For much of our known history we have dwelled at the edges of societies, sometimes with more acceptance and sometimes with less.  Even here in America, new and troubling signs of Jewish marginalization originating from the political Right and Left are now seen.  I think of my grandparents and father, solid members of their societies of birth, but in the end refugees in search of sanctuary. They came to a new land, but they had no home community and they needed to construct new identities and histories. 

I hope in this essay I have been able to transmit a vision about the transformative role of community, a community in time, where we find meaning through entering into relationship grounded in history as a way to come home.  As I wrote this essay many of my intellectual heroes came to mind.  Kleinman, Bergson, Bronfenbrenner, Ainsworth, Bowlby, Soloveitchik, Buber and Brooks share a focus on relationships, yearning for meaning and community. They shed light on what I have come to see as gifts, deeply Sephardic gifts, a community like EB gives to the Jewish world. 

I think of the lessons from my teachers at EB.  Rabbi (Emeritus) Ron-Ami Meyers recently taught me about Shimon HaTzadik’s conclusions of the 3 legs supporting the world, Torah, avodah and gemilut hasadim.  Through masterful integration of sources, he demonstrated how kindness was the ikar, the key, tying together these legs.  Last spring Rabbi Marc Angel, was the keynote speaker at our fundraiser, “Runway to the Future.”  In a quiet moment Rabbi Angel told me a story of one of EB’s founders, Reverend Behar, that he thought captured the essence of our kehillah.  One Shabbat morning, the hakham was confronted with a situation where he might have strictly interpreted a law but thereby possibly embarrass a congregant who had come to honor a deceased parent.  Instead he exercised leniency about the law and strictly interpreted the ethic of kindness.

This community has paved my path to a more traditional Jewish life.  The path has been one of Torat Hesed, the Torah of Kindness, the path of Torah and the path of Kindness.  I know that to many the label Sephardic refers to place of origin and sets of customs.  But that is not the ikar, it’s not what, to my mind, Sephardic means, it is not what has kept our community whole over the centuries.  The Sephardic essence is a living community in time, in history, in relation, humbly proceeding together in kindness. It is a place where I brought my dramatic but fragmented Jewish history and yearning Jewish self and became a traditional Jew, so proud of my family history and feeling whole as a member of a new community that has dealt with historic trauma and emerged with continuity and joy.  It is in these ways that I can now call myself a Sephardic Jew.

This essay is also written to help EB to be hopeful in a time of change.  Like many older American synagogues, sociology is catching up to us as mobile, brilliant and accomplished children move away, and a new generation may not have the same relationship to synagogue and synagogue membership as we and our parents did.  The search for a sustainable way forward occupies us all, and all of us know that bold change is needed.  There are many details that those steeped in organizations, finance, governance and real estate will need to bring to the table.  But as we do this, may we remember before Whom we stand, before the Holy One, before each other in generations past, present and future, and before the unique vision of a community in time that is Sephardic Judaism.

Arthur Lewy

Adar II 5779

March 2019

Brooklyn, NY

_______________________________________________________________

¹ Kleinman, A. Writing at the Margin: Discourse Between Anthropology and Medicine, (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1997).

² ibid.

³ Bergson, H. Time and Free Will: An Essay on the Immediate Data of Consciousness, (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1910).

⁴ Bronfenbrenner, U. The Ecology of Human Development: Experiments by Nature and Design. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1979).

⁵ Ainsworth, M. S., & Bowlby, J.  “An ethological approach to personality development.” American Psychologist, 46(4), (1991): 333-341.

⁶ Soloveitchik, J.B. The Lonely Man of Faith, (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, 1997).

⁷ Buber, M. I and Thou, (New York: Touchstone, 1970), 94.

⁸ Brooks, D.  “How to Leave a Mark on People.”  New York Times, April 18, 2017.

⁹ Kleinman, A. op cit., 99.

Moral Exercise

A Hassidic tale tells of a rebbe in a Russian village who used to take a dip in the river every morning. One day, the new local policeman on his first patrol just before sunrise, saw the rebbe diving into the frozen river. He ran to the strange old man, calling him to get out of the river and shouting, "Who are you? What do you come from? And where are you going?" The old rebbe smiled gently and asked the policeman: "How much do they pay you for this job?" "Ten Kufeykas a day,” answered the baffled young policeman. "I'll tell you what,” said the rebbe, "I'll pay you twenty Kufeykas a day if you come to me every morning and ask me who I am, where do I come from, and where I am going to.”

Human beings are dynamic and ever evolving creatures, and just like our muscle system becomes atrophied if it is not stimulated enough, so does our moral and intellectual system. Hence, it is crucial we get asked those questions, about ourselves and our purpose, constantly.

One way to do it would be putting a sticky note on the fridge, setting up a reminder on our smartphone, or meditating about it. However, in this article I argue that communities, and more specifically intentional communities, are the optimal environment for nurturing and sustaining moral behavior. An intentional community is a group of people who have consciously decided to live together spatially and temporally around a shared purpose. In this sense, an intentional community can serve as a framework for individual growth and moral behavior, and we will dive deeper into this later. But first, let us look into moral behavior and understand why it is important in and of itself.

Navigating the Sea of Life

Moral behavior is the kind of behavior that is consistent with certain moral values. Values can be considered the compass, whereas moral behavior is the practical work of navigation itself. We could go deeper and ask what moral values are. However, as answering this question will require a separate article, I would propose to accept as an axiom that core Jewish values, such as justice, treating people with dignity, aspiring for spiritual presence in the material world, family, and more—are indeed prime moral values. I wish to put this as an anchor for us in a postmodern world, on which we can build the next level.

Anyone who has dealt with navigation knows that you are never really spot on; only rarely do you progress toward the absolute North (or any other direction). You need to check and double check, make adjustments, and always be on the lookout for unexpected turns, tides, and winds. The compass gives you the direction, but you need to do the work of sticking to it, what we call in Hassidism Avodat haMiddot. How is this work to be done? While the compass itself can be acquired in a theoretical way through reading books, the implementation of these values can be acquired only through trial and error in real-life situations. In this regard, communities are the single most important laboratory for practicing this navigation, for developing moral behavior.

The purpose of moral behavior from a Hassidic standpoint, is to reveal God's presence in this low material world, or, as the Alter Rebbe, Rabbi Shneor Zalman of Liadi, puts it, "to make for him a dwelling place in the lowest worlds.” This can be done through the refinement of one's actions, through practical commandments, so they will reveal the divine essence within him or her. Some of the commandments are moral behavior in and of themselves, these are also called "intellectual commandments" (mitzvoth sikhliyot, also referred to as mishaptim), meaning commandments we would have realized even without a divine Torah, such as the prohibition to kill or the obligation to help a fellow human being in distress. Alongside these, there is a corpus of "irrational" commandments (called mitzvoth shimiyot, or hukkim), such as purity and impurity laws or shatnez (the prohibition to wear a cloth containing both wool and linen). The Midrash teaches us something important regarding the purpose of these commandments: "Does the holy One, Blessed be He, care whether someone slaughters from the neck or from the oref (decapitates)? You should say: The mitzvoth were only given in order to letzaref (refine/combine) the creatures" (Midrash Rabbah 44). According to Jewish law, slaughtering an animal for food has to be done in a specific way that has no rational explanation, and the Midrash doubts that it's really that specific way that interests the creator. Rather, says the Midrash, God has commanded us for the purpose of letzaref, which in Hebrew has two meanings: One is refinement, like the work of the goldsmith; the other is bringing things together. I argue that both things are one and the same: You cannot refine yourself and your moral behavior without following a pattern of practical behavior, but you cannot do this alone, only with other people.

How It Actually Works—One Example

Somewhere in the early 1990s, when I was in the fifth grade, I remember watching a TV show describing what might be the consequences of global warming and the ozone layer hole. I remember the sense of upcoming catastrophe that sent me to bed lying ill for three days. On the fourth day, I decided I had to do something about it, so I ran for my school’s “pupils’ council” and became chair, joined a youth movement… and eventually ended up working mostly on developing intentional communities in Israel.

What’s the connection? Well, I ask myself the same question from time to time, wondering if communities are really what we need as the climate system is going off track. True, the dark forecasts of 25 years ago did not come to pass—at least not yet—but experiencing our fifth year of drought in a row here in the Negev, and unprecedented heat waves in Europe and Japan, does sound like an alarm call to me. Something is changing: We are about to reach 8 billion people who want to live an American lifestyle, and I am not sure my children will enjoy the same nature and climate I was privileged to enjoy. We need some urgent response. How can living communally help when we need urgent moral action and behavior to save the planet?

I believe there is a strong connection, and that is not because community is somehow more important than sustainability—such things can’t be compared. Sustainable living is not a “thing” in and of itself. Sustainable living is the aggregate outcome of many individual actions carried out by human beings endowed with free choice. People’s choices are rooted in their identities, dreams, and values—which are, in turn, rooted in their families and communities. Healthy and vibrant communities can induce more sustainable actions and forms of living, if they only see such sustainability as central to their identity.

For instance, it is well known that the main factor determining the burden we put on our environment is not the number of people living but rather the ecological footprint per person (meaning, roughly, the amount of resources we each consume). When people live in an isolated manner and need to provide for almost everything themselves, within the family unit at best, they demand a much higher volume of resources from the environment. The simple examples of communities changing this include carpooling, sharing rarely used stuff (hence buying less), composting and recycling together, or supporting local farmers as a group of mindful consumers (CSAs).

But it goes deeper than that.

Human beings have an internal desire to be loved, to be recognized, to belong to a group in which they can feel safe and flourish. When they are isolated, those needs transform into over-consumerism intended to compensate for the lack of social bonding, which increases probability immoral behavior, in my opinion. On the contrary, deep ongoing relationships forged around shared intentions create happier and fuller people, who need to consume less in order to feel filled-up.

This is but one example of how intentional communities induce and catalyze moral behavior, and we will see more examples from Israel below. However, our current communal structure is failing, and we need to be creative and innovative for the next step. Before discussing solutions, let us analyze the challenge first.

The Challenge of Jewish Communities

Second only to the nuclear family, the Jewish community has been what binds Jews to our identity, fortifies our commitment to Jewish peoplehood, and constantly improves our moral behavior. However, it appears that a paradigm shift is evolving in Jewish society, as a growing proportion of young adults do not identify with the traditional structures of Jewish communities, not to be confused with Judaism itself.

The postmodern revolution, along with tectonic changes in the economy, have resulted in a dissolving sense of community and belongingness in the Western world. More people live alone today than ever before, despite the fact that more people live in crowded cities with more people per square meter than ever before. Previously solid social networks—such as synagogues, neighborhoods, and offices—are disintegrating, leaving people unconnected to the world around them, and their moral behavior more fragile and vulnerable.

The modern structure of Jewish communities in the Diaspora is based on the historical Jewish community model as it has existed for generations (roughly speaking); but it underwent significant changes and crystallized into a new model after World War II (in the Western Hemisphere). The most significant factor was the rapid and dramatic improvement in the economic situation of the Jews. At the same time, the Jewish community structure was influenced by the structure of the Christian communities and the civil society around them. The synagogues continued to be the center of the community, and the formal demand for them to operate as nonprofit institutions caused them to be similarly reshaped based on elected lay leaders who appoint spiritual leadership (rabbis and cantors). Later on, the Jewish Community Centers were established, and it was agreed in various ways between them and the synagogues that they would not perform religious activities in order not to empty the synagogues of worshipers. There is no doubt that this structure served the Jewish people in an exceptional way for a long period of time. I would like to focus here for a moment on the main characteristics of the traditional communities (in the sociological rather than the religious sense) that rendered them irrelevant to the new generation.

A Growing Value Gap

Until a relatively short time ago, there was institutionalized anti-Semitism even in the United States. In fact, the reason why Jewish community centers were established was that Jews were not allowed to join the non-Jewish community centers, and Jewish hospitals were set up in order to give Jewish doctors a place to work. In addition to the collective memory of the Holocaust, the birth pangs of the State of Israel and the crisis of Soviet Jewry, it should be understood that the main factors shaping the Jewish identity and community until the 1990s were related almost entirely to the historical narrative and image of the Jews as a persecuted and weak minority group, that needs to stick together in order to survive. This meant prioritizing Jewish needs over general issues unrelated to the Jews or the State of Israel, which are now included under the code name tikkun olam.

Today, however, most young Jews (at least in the West) perceive themselves as belonging to the strong side of society in which they live. In addition, the vast majority sees itself as connected to its country and responsible for it as any other citizen, and for the entire world in many ways, hence the growing use of the terminology of tikkun olam and universal responsibility over the terminology of survival and national-particular responsibility. The change in language is not cosmetic; rather, it reflects a change—and even a reversal—of values as the Y generation embraces universal moral values, although rooted in Jewish tradition (e. g., social justice, sustainability, healthy diet, fair trade, etc.). This reversal led to a growing gap in values ​​between the leadership of the traditional communities and their young flock, and as a result, the younger generation is gradually abandoning the traditional communities.

Quality Preference

Traditional communities, especially the Conservative and Reform denominations, tended to grow to gigantic proportions. In practice, however, the vast majority did not attend the prayer hall except for Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, and many of them ended their membership in the community when the youngest child reached the age of bar or bat mitzvah. In addition, studies show that a spiritual leader is unable to provide a real response to more than 100 to 150 people (this is called Dunbar's number); communities with more than 200 households lose the ability to create an intimate connection and safe space for their members. On the other hand, the younger generation has deeply experienced Western loneliness, and it seeks an authentic, intimate, and relevant experience of belonging and community.

Hierarchy and Internal Politics

The combination of a large community and large-scale asset and financial management created a hierarchical organizational structure that maintained the stability of the communities but also brought the byproducts of internal politics and strict hierarchies. The younger generation, however, is characterized by flat thinking, not to be confused with superficial thinking. Flat thinking means seeing the world as a network of individuals and groups that interact on a free and egalitarian basis, with each individual determining the level of involvement in the processes that interest him or her. This dramatic change in worldview is also connected to the far-reaching technological changes of the last two decades. These changes have led to changes in the value system and the worldview of the Y generation, and not only in their daily conduct.

The tendency among the previous generation to misinterpret this profound change has at best alienated them; in the worst case, it has created programs aimed at bringing young people closer by turning to a very low common denominator such as beer evenings and free musical events. Many young Jews do come to these events, especially if they are free, but the assumption that this will create a long-term commitment to the traditional Jewish community is a false hope that stems from a deep lack of understanding of Millennials' need for belonging, identity, and meaning.

Organizational Structure

The desire to act professionally, in the spirit of Western culture, brought communities to hire professional teams including chief executives, educators, and rabbis. As a result, maintenance and operating costs reached enormous proportions that require high membership fees. This has led many young people to opt out of traditional synagogues, which is sometimes misinterpreted as lack of willingness to pay for Jewish communal life. However, people are willing to pay for something that is relevant to their lives and gives them a significant added value. It is enough to observe the phenomenal growth of organizations such as Hazon to see that when a Jewish organization offers a relevant "product" it has quite a few buyers who are willing to pay. Even though young Jews, like all young people, have fewer available resources at the moment, for the most part Millennials will be the generation with the greatest resources in history.

Legacy institutions may rightfully claim that they invest huge resources in attracting young people back to their ranks. However, this is based on the erroneous assumption that investing billions of dollars in the young generation from age zero to college will ultimately lead them to return to the traditional communities. Needless to say, the work done in these areas is truly remarkable: From Jewish kindergartens and schools, through summer camps, to Hillel on campus—almost every Jew in the United States has a place to go. The problem is that this assumption ignores both the inherent irrelevance of these institutions for many young people, as well as another essential sociological component: the extending gap between end of college and marriage. For young Jews in this period there are almost no relevant activities, and where they exist, they do not provide a deep response that can connect them in the long term.

Intentional Communities for the Next Generation

To summarize, I argue that a paradigm shift is evolving in Jewish society, as a growing proportion of young adults do not identify with the traditional structures of Jewish communities, not to be confused with Judaism itself. In order to respond to this shift and turn it into an opportunity it is necessary, I believe, to invest in a wide range of new initiatives and experiments in Jewish community and learn from the remarkable experience in intentional communities in Israel, from the last three decades.

The main concept I would like to propose in this article is the concept of Jewish Intentional Communities as a tool to induce and catalyze moral behavior. First, let us define what we mean by a JIC: First, it is a group of people who have chosen to come together with an intentional focus in mind. This community togetherness is not a mere byproduct/side-effect of the other goals, nor is it simply a means to other ends, but it is an intention/aim/value, in and of itself, what sociologists call a "primary group.” While it may sometimes start from an a priori geographic fact, this community togetherness is not only a physical coincidence but a deliberate choice in the nature of togetherness itself.

A Way of Living in the World, Not Just in a Bubble

The Jewish and Intentional nature of the community implies values that are expressed both internally and externally. There should, therefore, be a holistic, integrative relationship between the culture and values of the community and their relationship with the society around them. While Jewish Intentional Community values and culture are certainly defined and expressed within the life of the community together, as a microcosm of a good society, they should also be reflected in an external mission, wider than the circle of the community itself. This could include, for example, the local neighborhood, the Jewish community, Israel, or even wider societal missions.

Temporal Togetherness, Spatial Togetherness, or Both

Jewish Intentional Communities involve significant relationships between members who share time and/or space together, physically, in-person. While this temporal and/or spatial togetherness does not necessarily mean that they live in the same house or the same building, their relationships cannot be completely virtual. There needs to be either physical or temporal proximity; the community must either have a significant place to be together or a significant time to be together, or both. Therefore, if community members are not living within a certain proximity to each other, in order to be considered an intentional community they do need to come together physically for a significant amount of time.

Temporal togetherness is potentially a much more viable model to replicate since there is no requirement to buy land or commit to living together in the initial stages, so the resources demanded are much less of an up-front investment. However, there is an ongoing need to intentionally prioritize resources (e.g., finding times, places, etc.) in order to come together for immersive experiences.

Actively Jewish

The community should be actively engaged in Jewish life. Just “being” Jews/Jewish is not enough. The definition of Judaism/Jewish is totally open—the active engagement could be in relation to Jewish culture, religion, identity, practice, tradition, values, history, peoplehood, land, language, nationality, philosophy, politics, and more. However, Judaism should be an “issue” that the community is invested in—something that is about “where the community is going,” not just about “where the members came from.”

Permanence

A JIC is a long-term/life-long community. There are many wonderful programs, camps, seminars, residences, etc. in which one can experience community life temporarily. Jewish Intentional Community is not, at the core, a temporary framework for trying out a taste of community life. JIC’s strive to be long-term communities that are meaningful to their members.

Some Examples from the Israeli Movement

Israel has a long-standing movement of intentional communities, which sprouted in the mid 1980s. It started as a grassroots movement, with the first urban kibbutz established in Sderot in 1986 (called "Migvan,” meaning "diversity"). It was established by people who grew up in regular kibbutzim, meaning rural and agriculture based, but who came to realize that the real and new challenge is within Israeli society. They opened a kibbutz inside a city. Instead of doing agriculture, they opened a successful (and today, huge) nonprofit organization that significantly helped build Sderot's educational and welfare systems. In parallel, groups from the religious-Zionist sector came to realize pretty much the same thing, and decided to go into existing cities instead of settlements in Judea and Samaria. A few years later, alumni of haNoar haOved vehaLomed youth movement, the "mother ship" of haBonim Dror, also decided that it is no longer relevant to go to kibbutzim and started their own urban kibbutz movement. They call them "educators kibbutzim,” and have 50 urban kibbutzim with over 2,000 people. Other movements and sectors followed shortly: the Ethiopians, the Mountain Jews, ba'alei teshuvah, and even the Druze and the Bedouins. Today there are more than 200 intentional communities in Israel, with 15,000 members, spread from Eilat to Kiryat Shmona, which are literally revitalizing Israeli society from within.

I would like to share two major developments of this movement that shed light on how intentional communities can be a catalyst for moral development. The first is more practical, and the second more essential.

Financial Resilience

The severe economic crisis that hit the United States in November 2008 had implications on almost every corner of the world, except for Israel. While Israel's economy was not affected, Israel's nonprofit sector was severely hit, due to a sudden reduction in U.S.-based donations. All over the country, nonprofit organizations either shut down or significantly reduced their activities and closed branches. Despite this, not even one intentional community closed or even stopped growing. The reason is simple: A community is not an organization; hence it is much more sustainable and resilient, and less dependent on external financial resources. An intentional community is comprised of young adults who have struck root. It’s obvious, when you think about it, and yet most of us fail to see the huge social and moral potential of communities in this context.

Strengthening the Social Fabric

Israel is a very fragmented society with about five to seven major sectors and dozens of sub-sectors. Most of them feel enmity toward some or all of the others. Often, those feelings are translated into verbal violence and occasionally into physical violence. In a small place like Israel, bridging the gaps between these sectors is an existential challenge and also a moral one.

How does this relate to intentional communities? It seems that intentional communities have a moderating effect on their members. When it comes to living together all people are different, even in the same sector, and the constant interaction with people who are different cultivates an internal tendency to be a better listener, and to acknowledge the fact that there is more than one right way to view the world. It does not mean that all views are equally relevant, but it means giving more space to the option of being wrong.

Communities create this kind of constant interaction and it is evident that people who live in vibrant intentional communities that are part of a larger city, tend to be more tolerant and welcoming even to people outside their community.

On the national level, we saw this in Israel in the form of MAKOM, the national umbrella organization of intentional communities, which was established in the summer of 2011. Leaders from 14 different movements and organizations of intentional communities came together: secular, religious, Ethiopian, non-Jewish and more. They all agreed that despite the deep disagreements among them, it seemed that they could agree and work together on 90 percent of the issues, such as education, welfare, social justice, and more. Thus, they formed MAKOM: The National Council of Intentional Communities in Israel. Seven years later, MAKOM is probably the largest social network in Israel, and the cross-sectorial collaboration it embodies is still rather rare.

A large proportion of this success of moral development is due to the communal lifestyle of the leaders of those 14 networks that taught them the meaning of sharing life with people who think, act, and react differently.

Intentional Communities 101

A common misconception is that anybody can build a community and no serious preparation is needed. While I strongly agree that building an intentional community is something that almost anyone can do, and it's not rocket science, it is still worthwhile to learn from others’ experience. There is a whole professional field of community development with books, workshops, and research. In this limited framework I will only try to lay out some basic principles that can get one started.

Start Small and Intentional

In modern society we have gotten accustomed to measuring success with numbers. As a result, one of the classic mistakes community entrepreneurs do is to start with a big event with as many people as possible in the room. The problem is that the more people you have in the room, the more opinions you have and the more difficult it will be to agree on a shared intention.

The way we recommend is to start very small, even with three to five people. The first phase should be defining a clear vision and mission for the community, which will then serve as its "identity card.” The next step should be inviting only a few people to join at a time until reaching a critical mass of about 10 to 15 people in the leadership core. Those who join will get absorbed in the vision and mission laid out by the founders; and although they can adjust and tweak it a bit, the community builds its backbone this way instead of undermining it.

The Location Trap

An Intentional Community is a group of people sharing both space and time together (as well as intention). Hence, finding a location for the community is obviously something its members should deal with. In some cases, they will already be living in proximity to one another, and will just want to find public space for joint activities; in other cases they will relocate as a group to another place (more common in Israel), purchase a building for co-housing and many other options.

The challenge is that it is much more tempting, and exciting, to discuss potential location than almost anything else. It gives people the opportunity to dream, to feel that this is the real thing, and discuss remote future details and avoid contemporary conflicts. But that is exactly the problem. It is like discussing with a potential spouse the details of the college you would like to send your child to, when you haven't even decided you love each other enough to get married.

It is best to avoid discussing location at least for the first few months. It is important to remember that out of 10 groups that set sail only two or three will succeed. All the rest will fall apart, mostly because of internal social issues and conflicts. It is better to disband before signing a multi-million dollar contract with a developer, and sign it only after you a certain level of confidence and trust with your partners.

Ousting of the Founder

Of all the patterns that repeat themselves in communal life, I believe this is the most prevalent and important one. You, the entrepreneur, wake up one morning and decide to make a difference in your life and induce moral behavior by creating a Jewish Intentional Community. You collect a small group of friends, define a clear vision and mission statement, grow it gradually, and avoid discussing the community's location until the group is mature enough. Eventually, you succeed, and after three years you actually lead a full-fledged intentional community doing amazing things. My advice to you, at that point, would be to step back and let someone else take the lead. Otherwise, what is very likely to happen is that you will be simply overthrown.

The dynamic is simple: People gather around a leader because he or she gives them enough confidence in the process. As time goes by, they grow more confident, in their own right, and feel a stronger sense of ownership over the community. The newcomers (relatively to the founder) would like to get their opportunity to lead one of the things they hold dearest in their lives. If they will not be given the opportunity to do this by the founder's initiative, they will take it by their own initiative.

Learn and Do, All the Time

Jewish tradition is rooted in learning, talmud Torah; and activism, hessed or tikkun olam. The same goes for the Jewish family, and it only makes sense that a Jewish Intentional Community will try to live up to the same standards.

Creating a regular space for learning, alongside external projects and volunteering, is the key through which intentional communities induce better moral behavior and make their members better human beings. It also gives the community the space to create its shared language and update its vision and mission as times change.

Furthermore, creating a tikkun olam project together is the best guarantee for the internal resilience of the community itself. Think of a married couple without children, versus a couple which has been blessed with children. The former is much easier to disband when conflicts arise, simply because there are no strings attached. When there are children, divorce is still an option, but the couple will go through much more effort to preserve their marriage.

An external project that all, or at least most, of the community members are invested in is like the community's child. Communities face internal conflicts and disputes as well. Communities with significant projects can and have fallen apart as well. But it is much less likely.

Concluding Notes

The few "tips" mentioned above are not meant to discourage anyone from attempting to create a community. I am merely suggesting doing it wisely and trying to avoid repeating other people's mistakes. In the professional community development business, we usually say that the most difficult component in a community is human beings. Alas, these are the only building blocks you can actually use to create one….

When I was 16, a group of friends and I found a deserted building that used to be a restaurant on the outskirts of Kiryat Tivon (Northern Israel). We renovated the place and became a strongly connected group, my first intentional community. As a result, I joined the haNoar haOved vehaLomed youth movement, served in the Nachal, and lived in communes until I was 22 or so. At about this age I became religious, which is a whole different story, and moved to a mixed religious-secular community in Jerusalem and then founded Garin Shuva in 2009, the intentional community on the Gaza border in which I live to this day. This community developed into the Nettiot network of communities, through which I was also one of the founders of MAKOM in 2011.

After more than a decade of communal experience, the idea to try and take the Israeli model of and apply it to Diaspora Jewry in some way came up the first time I met Nigel Savage, founder and president of Hazon, in 2012. Two years later, we received a grant from the UJA Federation of New-York to start "Hakhel,” the first ever Jewish Intentional Communities Incubator. Its purpose was, and still is, to cultivate the emergence of a range of new experiments in Jewish communal life, as part of the general rejuvenation of Jewish life in the Diaspora. Hakhel invests in and supports such new models and experiments through professional consulting, seed money grants, international and local conferences, online learning and learning trips to Israel.

As our Sages say, "a person is his own relative,” and cannot be considered reliable when testifying about matters relating to his or her own field of interest. However, with all due caution, I believe that if we want to increase moral behavior in our generation, as well as ignite a Jewish renaissance in the Diaspora, Intentional Communities could and should play a major role in this effort. My hope is that this article will contribute, if only little, to this joint effort.

To our members and friends

It has been an incredibly productive spring with our Institute programs and classes. We continue to build bridges throughout the community and promote our vision in communities, college campuses, and schools.

Here are some upcoming highlights:

On Shabbat, June 1, I will be the scholar-in-residence at Congregation Bnai Yeshurun in Teaneck, New Jersey (641 West Englewood Avenue). Free and open to the public.

On Sunday, June 2, from 10:30-11:15 am, I will give a pre-Shavuot talk on Ezekiel and the Principles of Prophecy at CareOne Teaneck, 544 Teaneck Road. Free and open to the public.

On Monday, June 3, from 1:00-2:15 pm, I will give a pre-Shavuot talk on the Revelation at Sinai at Lamdeinu Teaneck, 950 Queen Anne Road. Tuition of $25.

On Sunday-Monday June 23-24, I will present four papers at the Yeshivat Chovevei Torah Yemei Iyun on Bible and Jewish Thought. The annual conference is co-sponsored by the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, and I participate every year. For a complete schedule and registration information, see here https://www.yctorah.org/giving/yemeiiyun/

On Shabbat, July 12-13, I will be the scholar-in-residence for the Sephardic Community Alliance in Deal, New Jersey. More details to follow.

Our Campus Fellows of our University Network continue to run effective programming through the United States and Canada. Please see our latest report here https://www.jewishideas.org/article/campus-fellows-report-may-2019

If you know of eligible university students who would be good Campus Fellows for the 2019-2020 academic year, please have them contact me at [email protected], or have them go online here https://www.jewishideas.org/university-network/application. Applicants first must join the University Network, which is free, here https://www.jewishideas.org/civicrm/contribute/transact?reset=1&id=9

I continue to serve as the Tanakh Education Scholar at Ben Porat Yosef Yeshiva Day School in Paramus, New Jersey. Ben Porat Yosef creates a complete feeling of what the Ashkenazic and Sephardic worlds of thought, halakhah, custom, and history can do to complement one another, very much in line with our vision at the Institute. We are currently developing an innovative Bible program for grades 1-8 that likewise reflects our deepest values at the Institute, which combine commitment to tradition with critical-mindedness, openness to ideas, and a rationalist, non-fundamentalist approach to sacred texts. It is a privilege partnering with this singular institution.

I also am the guest editor for Conversations 34, which will feature a collection of Rabbi Marc D. Angel’s essays in celebration of his fifty years in the rabbinate. We also plan on holding several events in honor of this momentous occasion in the coming year.

I also am working on a pamphlet on Tanakh and Sephardic Inclusion in the Yeshiva High School Curriculum, to be published and distributed through our Institute as part of our Sephardic Initiative. The goal of this pamphlet is to demonstrate how our drawing from the wisdom of the entire Jewish experience enriches our learning and brings unity to a diverse community. Additionally, the pamphlet calls attention to the need to bring Sephardic and Ashkenazic customs into the Tanakh classroom.

As always, thank you for all of your support, and we will continue to spread our vision to educators, university students, and the broader Jewish community.

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

National Scholar

Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals

To our members and friends,

Our University Network continues to grow and thrive on campuses throughout North America, and we recently signed up a new member in Bangladesh!

We thank our Campus Fellows, who take leadership roles in developing programming on their campuses to promote the ideas and ideals of our Institute. Here is the latest round of reports from the field.

Thank you to our members and supporters for making this religious and intellectual programming possible during an all-important stage in our students' development!

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

National Scholar

Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals

Yona Benjamin, Columbia

Thus far I have been promoting the Institute and sharing the articles that the Institute produces. Reception has been positive. I hope to have my events after the midterm break. There is the possibility that I will be planning a supplementary event that will take place before a Purim seudah at Columbia (a sort of pre-seudah non-Purim-Torah learning session). I hope to have two events after spring break which focus on creating a reading group for Institute articles which will have discussions over Shabbat meals.

Corey Gold, Harvard

We learned from Sarah Cheses. Sarah will be teaching on “Assisted Reproduction and Gender Selection: Playing G-d?” over lunch Sunday, February 3rd for both our undergraduate community as well as the broader Orthodox community in Cambridge.

Zac Tankel, McGill University

Our first program in the Fall 2018 semester was a discussion group on the topic of morality, ideals, and commandments in Judaism, based on an article in Issue #31 of Conversations. The main questions of our discussion concerned G-d as the source of moral knowledge and the reasons for the mitzvot. For our second program, Rabbi Moshe Farkas drove in from Ottawa to lead a discussion on the topic of Jewish business ethics, which included questions related to issues such as interest, loans, and rentals. At both events, the attendees were highly engaged, which made for a deeply interesting and thought-provoking conversation. 

I have organized two institute programs so far this semester, and both have gone really well.

The first took place on February 5th, and it was a small discussion group I ran on the topic of the suffering of the righteous, based on a sugya in Brachot 5a. It was a small event, with only six people, but everyone was very engaged, and it made for a wonderful discussion. This is the Facebook event page: https://www.facebook.com/events/377506952810444/

The second event took place on February 26th, and for this one, I partnered with two Jewish groups on campus, Hillel Montreal and the McGill Jewish Studies Students' Association. The event was a shiur by a chazzan from the Chassidic community of Montreal, Baruch Kish, on the Chassidic approach to gilgul. We had about fourteen or fifteen people attend. It was very different from most of the Institute programs I've run, but people enjoyed the uniqueness of Baruch's shiur. This is the link to the Facebook event: https://www.facebook.com/events/2215285482044677/

I've been stretching out my budget this semester to try to allow for as many events as possible. My plan for the rest of the semester is to do more discussion groups (like the ones I led on November 1st and February 5th), and possibly another speaker. Two other students have confirmed that they would like to lead discussion groups, so one will be on March 12th (on the topic of financial ethics in Judaism) and the second on March 19th. Another two people have also expressed deep interest in doing so, so they will hopefully be leading sessions on March 26th and April 2nd. I will keep you updated with regards to the upcoming events.

Thank you so much for your support! Options for learning and discussion for Orthodox students are very limited at McGill, so the support from the Institute provides an incredible opportunity for that!

Raphael Levi and Benjamin Nechmad, Rutgers

IJII at Rutgers ran an event co-hosted by the Drisha Institute for Jewish Education which brought in Rabbi Daniel Reifman who spoke about the topic of “When Text and Tradition Collide.”

Ora Friedman, Stern College for Women, Yeshiva University

On December 17, we held an event entitled “The Hows, Whats, and Whys: Conversion to Judaism.” Zahava Schwartz, a GPATs intern for Route 613, which is a comprehensive conversion preparation program geared for students interested in halakhic conversion to Judaism, spoke about her experiences interacting with converts, as well as what the conversion process entails. 

Ora Friedman, Stern College for Women, and Yonatan Abrams, Yeshiva College

The event was very successful on Stern campus. Rabbi Hajioff spoke about some issues concerning the end of time. He discussed Rambam's qualifications for who Melech HaMashiach will be, and he spoke about what to expect in a Messianic era. 20 students came, and we pitched the University Network (and I just sent a follow up email with the University Network registration page), we gave out more than 20 journals, and all the pizza was eaten!

Steven Gotlib, Rabbi Isaac Elhanan Theological Seminary, Yeshiva University

On March 5, we hosted a discussion on the topic of “shiurim on buses” which touched on the halachic and interpersonal concerns of the recent Israeli news reports. We bought snacks and had 10 semicha students and members of the young professional community.