National Scholar Updates

The problem of the agunah—the woman whose husband refuses to give her a Jewish divorce—challenges the viability of Orthodoxy in a modern world that stands, if I may be given some poetic license, on the three pillars of equality, human rights, and the autonomy of the individual. How can it be that a Jewish woman in the twenty-first century is still dependent on the whims of her husband for her marital freedom?
In this article, I have three goals:

1. To describe the development of the tort of get refusal as a response to the problem of the agunah in the Diaspora and in Israel.
2. To explain why tort has gained popularity as a rejoinder to get refusal.
3. To argue that, although the tort of get refusal is not a systemic solution to the dilemma of the agunah, it is a step that may inspire the halakhic community to rise to the challenge of resolving this problem once and for all.

In recent years, various solutions have been proffered to end the problems of Jewish women and divorce. They include: prenuptial agreements (spanning the spectrum from the conservative Willig/RCA contract[1] to the more progressive tripartite agreement of Rabbi Michael Broyde[2]); annulment based on a major defect (Rabbi Rackman)[3]; and civil marriage.

Despite these solutions, agunot abound. I specialize in them, in particular since 1997, the year that I began my career as a cause lawyer, first as the founder and director of Yad L’Isha (1997–2004); and since 2004 as the founder and director of The Center for Women’s Justice. For the past ten
years or so, I have had the privilege to initiate the first and then a
series of successful damage claims against recalcitrant husbands in the
Israeli civil courts—referred to in legal parlance as "tort" cases. The term torts comes from the Latin, tortus, which means: twisted, crooked, dubious—like the husbands who refuse to give their wives a get—and
refers to acts that are wrong, cause harm, and should be redressed by
law. The idea behind these cases is that a husband who refuses to give
his wife a get is intentionally causing her emotional distress, and he should be obligated to make her whole for all the damages that ensue—including the infringements on her autonomy, her ability to remarry and have children, her pain and suffering—in the same way that he would be held liable for damages if he intentionally assaulted a third party.

The idea of using tort law as a response to get refusal was first raised in the United States, to the best of my knowledge, in the 1980s in two law review articles (one by Barbara Redman[4]; another by David Cobin[5]); and by Rabbi Prof Irving Breitowitz in an entire chapter in his book The Plight of the Agunah[6] entitled “Tort Law Theories." Although Redman and Cobin enthusiastically supported using tort as a remedy for the problem of get refusal, Breitowitz objected, noting possible U.S. Constitutional problems (church and state separation), as well the “classic” halakhic problems when it comes to divorce—the specter of the “forced divorce,” get me’useh.[7]

Some History

In the Diaspora

Notwithstanding the problem of separation of church and state, or issue of the “forced divorce,” Jewish women have turned in desperation to the civil courts all over the world to find relief from get refusal. To give just a few examples:

· Since the 1950s,
French courts have consistently awarded damages to wives whose husbands
refused to remove barriers to their remarriage despite their civil
divorce, declaring that such actions inflicted mental distress in
violation of section 1382 of the French Civil Code. [8]

· In 1967, a London court awarded Mrs. Brett a delayed lump sum payment of £5,000 for spousal support if her husband did not grant her a get within three months.[9] The judges held that the conduct of the husband “preclud[ed] the possibility of the wife remarrying and thus finding some other man to support her”; and that the husband was trying to “use his power to bargain and avoid payment of part or any maintenance award.”[10]

· In 1980, a family court in Sidney, Australia, citing Mrs. Brett’s case, issued a decision awarding 2,000 Australian dollars
in deferred alimony to Mrs. Steinmetz, claiming that her husband was
using “his power to prevent the wife from remarrying and gaining the
benefit of additional financial support which might come to her from
marriage.”[11]

· In 1985, the New York State legislature passed a law (familiarly known as the “First New York Get
Law”) requiring plaintiffs, as a prerequisite for filing for divorce,
to declare that they had removed, or were willing to remove, the
barriers to remarriage of their spouse.[12] Since then, Canada,[13] England and Wales,[14] Scotland,[15] and South Africa[16] have passed similar statutes.

· Not satisfied with the deterrent impact of the 1985 New York Get Law, in 1992 the New York legislature passed the “Second New York Get Law,” which allowed
a judge to take into consideration the failure to remove barriers to
remarriage when awarding alimony or dividing up marital property.[17]

· Isolated family courts in the United States have held that the ketubah requires husbands to give their wives a divorce and then ordered husbands to do so;[18] or that extortionist divorce agreements could be invalidated as unconscionable.[19]
In 2000, Judge Gartenberg of the New York Family Court voided an
unconscionable agreement in which Mrs. Giahn gave up almost all of her
rights to marital property in exchange for the get. Despite the agreement and the fact that the wife had fulfilled her part of the bargain, Mr. Giahn sadistically failed to give his wife a get for eight years. The judge held that the “coerced, unconscionable, and overreaching” divorce agreement “exploit[ed]
the power differential between the parties” and invoked principles of
“equity” and the “intentional infliction of emotional distress” to
award all the marital property to the wife (about $400,000).[20]

In Israel

In Israel, rabbinic courts have sole jurisdiction over matters of marriage and divorce.[21] So it was within the halls of the rabbinic courts, and in accordance with Jewish law, that we women lawyers and political activists first tried to find relief for the woman caught in the mire of Jewish divorce law. We asked the rabbinic courts to issue more orders against recalcitrant husbands, even to put them in jail. We asked the rabbinic judges to expand the grounds for interfering with a husband’s free will to give a get. We drafted prenuptial agreements that allowed for increased spousal support. And in the meantime, we collected growing numbers of agunot.
In 1999, Hanna came into my office. She was thirty-six years old and had lived apart from her husband since she was twenty-six. In 1994, the rabbinic court had tried to convince Hanna to give up all her property rights and to waive child support for her five children in exchange for the get.
She refused and saw no reason to return to the rabbinic court for
relief of any sort. Suing her husband for damages was her last resort.
In 2000, I filed a claim for damages for Hanna against her husband for get-refusal.
We argued that his refusal to divorce her caused emotional harm and
infringed on her basic rights to marry and have children. In December
2001, on the same day that Hanna's husband agreed to give her a get
in exchange for the dismissal of her tort claim, the Hon. Judge
Ben-Zion Greenberger of the Jerusalem Family Court denied a motion to
dismiss the complaint (File 3950/00); and held that get-refusal
is a tort since it violates a woman's personal autonomy protected under
the Basic Law: Human Dignity and Freedom. Similar law suits followed.
All held that damage cases were within the sole jurisdiction of the
family courts. All resulted in the husband giving the get in exchange for the dismissal, with prejudice, of the damage claims.
In December 2004, a particularly stubborn husband gave Judge Menachem HaCohen the opportunity to rule on the merits of a case. Judge HaCohen awarded a wife, another of my clients, 325,000 NIS in damages, and 100,000 NIS in aggravated damages (about $100,000 in total) (File 19270/03). HaCohen held that get-refusal
was a "tort" because it was unreasonable behavior that fell under the
rubric of negligence, section 35 of the Tort Ordinance.[22] In 2006, Judge Tzvi Weitzman, following the logic of Judge HaCohen, ordered the estate of a man to pay his wife 711,000 NIS in damages (about $180,000) (File 19480/05).
In 2008, three more women were awarded damages for get-refusal. The awards ranged from 377,000 NIS to 700,000 NIS (awarded to a woman who lived with her husband for only three months and had been refused a get for eleven years). In 2008, Judge Nili Maiman also denied a motion to dismiss a complaint against a mother, two brothers, and a sister, holding that a cause of action could prevail against family members for aiding and abetting get-refusal.
Since 2000, more than thirty women have filed for damages against their recalcitrant husbands. In many of these cases, the husbands agree to give the get in exchange for waiving the damage claims. In all of these cases the Bet Din was only too happy to be done with these cases and arrange for the get.
All
this notwithstanding, in March 2008, the Supreme Rabbinic Court held
that the filing for damages in the family court would invalidate
subsequent divorces because of the “forced divorce” (File
no.7041-21-1); and threatened that attorneys who advise their clients
to file tort cases are liable for malpractice. Attorneys continue to
file these cases; and men continue to give the get, or not. It all depends on them.

Why Tort?

In
an article that I have written for Brandeis “From Religious Right to
Civil Wrong: Using Israeli Tort Law to Unravel the Knots of Gender,
Equality and Jewish Divorce,” [23] I explain that tort
law is an important tool in the hands of innovative cause-lawyers who
want to reform Israeli divorce law, and whose vision of an ethical
Israeli society is one that is both Jewish and democratic. Tort law
allows these cause lawyers to articulate and reframe the problem of
Jewish women and divorce in a manner that makes room for such vision. Such reframing is far reaching in its goals and theoretical underpinnings.
Reframing is an act of translation in which an interpretive code ("schema") is transposed from one setting to another. This act of translation and renaming
allows the legitimacy of the familiar (harms should be redressed) to be
attached to the strange (a Jewish husband gives a divorce of his free
will).[24] Translation
is a creative but difficult balancing act in which the
translator-cause-lawyer must maneuver adroitly between tradition and
change, politics and justice, words and visions. The translator must try to resonate with existing laws and customs, and at the same challenge them. Cause lawyers who reframe a Jewish husband’s "right" to deliver a get at will into a civil "wrong," translate simultaneously in more than one direction. They reframe tort law to include get-refusal;
and they reframe religious law to recognize the forced divorce as an
actionable injurious act. They translate transnational human rights
principles (women have the right to divorce[25]) down into civil tort claims; and they translate local religious practice (only the husband can give the get) into tort violations.

I
posit that these delicate acts of translation and reframing allow cause
lawyers to define and delineate the problem of Jewish women and divorce; rally consciousness and unite women; demystify an act of power; defrock a religious act; and bring the State in to redress the harms inflicted on its citizens. Moreover, by constructing the tort of get-refusal, cause lawyers draw attention to the conflict of values between religious divorce laws and civil/human rights, and force a dialogue that the rabbinic courts would otherwise avoid.

Why Not?
Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose,
And nothin' aint worth nothin' but its free
“Me and Bobby McGee" Kris Kristofferson, Fred Foster
The women who bring these claims against their husbands have waited on average of ten years before bringing them. Once filed, either they receive their gets, because their husbands agree to give them of their own free will--and the rabbinic courts, in fact, have arranged for those divorces without raising any question regarding their validity; or the husbands refuse to give the get of their own free will, and the court awards damages to the wives. Sometimes the women collect on these judgments; and sometimes they don’t. If they do, it’s when their husbands are financially solvent. If they don’t collect, they offer up their decisions as a sacrificial deterrent for the benefit of other agunot.

The only reason to stop bringing these lawsuits would be if Orthodox rabbis finally acknowledge that the problem of Jewish women and divorce must be solved. They must take the power to give a get,
or not, out of the hands of the husband. The problem of the “forced divorce” must be understood as a euphemism for giving unfettered and unilateral dominance to men over their wives. The rabbis must change the Jewish marriage ceremony at its core, or allow for marriage to be entered into on conditions that guarantee proper divorce rights for women.[27] Until that happens, women must keep filing tort cases.

[1] “The Prenuptual Agreement, Halakhic and Pastoral Consideration,” Basil Herring and Kenneth Auman, eds. 1996, 45–53. See also Susan Weiss, Sign at Your Own Risk: The "RCA" Prenuptial May Prejudice the Fairness of Your Future Divorce Settlement, 6 Cardozo Women's L.J. 49 (1999).
[2] Response of Rabbi Broyde to Rabbi Dr. Aviad HaCohen’s “Tears of the Oppressed,” Edah online journal.
[3] Susan Aaranoff, Two Views of Marriage, Two Views of Women: Reconsidering. 3 Nashim 199 (Spring– Summer 2000); but see Rabbi J. David Bleich, Kiddushei Ta’ut: Annulment as a Solution to the Agunah Problem, 33:1, Tradition 90, 115 (1998).
[4] Barbara Redman, What Can Be Done in Secular Courts To Aid the Jewish Woman? 19 Geo. L. Rev. 389, 416 (1984—1985).
[5] David M. Cobin, Jewish Divorce and the Recalcitrant Husband: Refusal to Give a Get as Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress, J. L. & Religion 405 (1986); Breitowitz, The Plight of the Agunah, supra note 42, 239–249.
[6] Irving A. Breitowitz, Between Civil and Religious Law, the Plight of the Agunah in American Society 286–291 (1993).
[7]
Orthodox lore maintains that a Jewish divorce is only valid if a get is
given by a husband to his wife of his free will. A divorce that is
given after applying pressure that impinges on a man’s will is invalid
(literally a forced divorce, a get me’useh)
unless such pressure is applied by a Jewish court, within the limited
parameters of the causes of action recognized by Jewish law. See M. Yebamot 14:1 (T.B. Yebamot 112b): “A
man who divorces is not like a woman who is divorced because the woman
is divorced with her consent or against her will, while the man divorces only with his own free will.” See also Rambam, Dinei Gerushin (Laws of Divorce), Chapter 1, Laws 1 and 2.
[8] See Jean Claude Niddam, Emdatam Shel Batei Mishpat HaEzrahiyim BeTzorfat Klapei Tviot Neged Ba'alim Yehudiyim LeMisirat Get [The Position Taken by the French Civil Courts in Suits for a Jewish Divorce Against Recalcitrant Husbands] 10/11 Diné Israel 385 (1981–1983) (includes translation into Hebrew of six French cases decided between 1955 and 1980). Despite attempts by French husbands to claim that damage awards violate the halakhic
prohibitions against the forced divorce, French rabbis have held that,
insomuch as such damage awards relate to time past (and not to the
future), they do not violate Jewish law. Memorandum from Annie Dreyfus (in French) (on file with author).
[9] Brett v. Brett 1 All ER 1007 (1967).
[10] Ibid., at 1011, and 1015.
[11] In the Marriage of Steinmetz, 6 Fam LR 554 (Fam. Ct., Aust., Sydney) (1980).
[12] N.Y. Dom. Rel. §253 (McKinney 1988).
[13] Canadian Divorce Act §21; Ontario Family Law Act, Section 56 (5), Limitations on Separation Agreements.
[14] England and Wales, #000000">Divorce (Religious Marriages) Act 2002 (came into force on 24th February 2003).
[15] http://www.scotland.gov.uk/library/documents-w8/isfl-03.htm (recommends adopting the law in England and Wales).
[16] South Africa, §5a The Divorce Amendment Act 95 (1996).
[17] N.Y. Dom. Rel §236B Section 5(h).
[18] Stern v. Stern, 5 Fam. L. Rep. (BNA) 2810 (N.Y. Sup. Ct. 1970); Burns. v. Burns, 223 N.J. Super. 219, 538 A 2nd 438 (N. J. Super. 1987); In re Goldman 196 Ill. App. 3d 785, 554 N.E. 1016 (Ill. App. Ct. 1990); But see Breitowitz, Plight of the Agunah, supra note 41, at 77–96 (criticizing the courts' interpretation of the ketubah as an implied contract to give a get).
[19] Perl
v. Perl, 126 A.D.2d 91, 512 N.Y.S.2d 372 (1987); Golding v. Golding,
176 A.D.2d 20, 581 N.Y.S.2d 4 (1992); Schwartz v. Schwartz, 153 Misc.2d
789, 652 N.Y.S.2d 616 (1997).
[20] Giahn v. Giahn (Sup. Ct. N.Y) (April 2000) available at http://www/jlaw.com/Recent/giahnhtml. See also Weiss v. Goldfeder NYLJ, Oct. 26, 1990 (maintains that withholding of the get may be tantamount to the intentional infliction of emotional distress).
[21] §1 Rabbinic Courts Jurisdiction (Marriage and Divorce) Law 5713–1953
(“Matters of marriage and divorce of Jews in Israel, being nationals or
residents of the State, shall be under the exclusive jurisdiction of
rabbinic courts.”)
[22] On December 5, 2007, The Supreme Court of Canada awarded damages to a woman whose husband breached an agreement to give her a get, citing Judge HaCohen’s decision is support of same.
[23] In Gender, Culture, Religion, and Law (Publication Pending).
[24] See Patrick Ewick and Susan S. Silbey, The Common Place of Law (1998); Austin Sarat and Stuart Scheingold, The Worlds Cause Lawyers Make: Structure and Agency in Legal Practice (2005) (discusses how lawyers use schemas creatively).
[25] CEDAW (Convention for the Elimination of Discrimination against Women).
[26] Meir Simha HaCohen Feldblum, “The Problem of Agunot and Mamzerim: A Proposed Encompassing and General Solution,” 19 Dinei Yisrael 203–215, 212–3 (1997–8).
[27] See Eliezer Berkovits, T'nai beNisuin veGet (Conditional Marriages and Divorces) (1967).

There was no Rabbi more concerned with tseni'ut (modesty) than R. Moshe Feinstein. He was against men shaking a woman's hand even as a polite greeting (IM OH 1:113; EH 1:56). Even in circumstances when the law didn't strictly prohibit the mingling of men and women, he encouraged God-fearing people to avoid such situations.

There is, however, one place where R. Feinstein had no problem with men and women being together: the marketplace. In workplaces, on trains and buses-including the crowded New York subway system-R. Feinstein's stance is absolutely clear. There is no halakhic, or even spiritual problem, with men and women sitting next to each other in such situations: "Because, " wrote R. Feinstein, "unavoidable and unintentional physical contact is devoid of sexual connotations....And if a man knows that he will read into this contact sexual connotations...he should focus his mind on Torah. For it is idleness that causes a man to be prone to lascivious thoughts" (Even HaEzer 2:14).
All this was asked and answered decades ago.

If, then, there is clearly no halakhic problem, what is really behind the sudden rise of Hareidi demands that public buses in Israel be sex-segregated, women banished to the back door and the back seats? Furthermore, what is the motivation of the women, almost all of them Orthodox like myself, who have taken the unprecedented step of filing a legal complaint in Israel's Supreme Court to stop Israel's Ministry of Transportation and the monopolistic public bus lines Egged and Dan from caving into Hareidi demands? Where are the battle lines being drawn, and what will be the meaning of victory or defeat in this newest arena of modern ultra-Orthodox re-fashioning of Jewish life to fit an image and a lifestyle that has no Jewish precedents?

The desire for sex-segregated buses is not new. Over a decade ago, Hareidi elements in B'nai Brak pressured then Minister of Transportation Yitzchak Levi to allow two public buses serving Hareidi neighborhoods within B'nai Brak to require separate seating. From this seemingly small and very limited accommodation to the sensibilities of extremist elements in a tiny, isolated homogenous religious sector in a small section of a small town, was born the idea that a public bus, serving the general public, can make demands relating to gender, invading their passengers' private space to decide what seat they can or cannot choose to sit in on a public bus; how they can dress, and what the driver can listen to on the radio.

Before that time, Hareidi passengers managed to ride public buses without undo difficulties. Honestly, many were the times when I voluntarily chose to find another place to sit rather than impose my presence on a Hareidi man. I did this out of a sincere desire not to affront what might be a delicate religious sensibility, despite the clear lack of any halakhic basis. Used to the idea of Jews who require a hekhsher on salt or detergent-without any halakhic basis-I did not want to step on anybody's list of no's. Why make someone uncomfortable if you don't have to? Where I drew the line was standing if no other seat was available. My feeling was that if one decides to adopt a humra (stringency), others need not suffer. If he had a problem sitting next to me, he was welcome to stand. I am sure many Hareidi men welcomed the opportunity to give their seats to elderly women, or to a woman carrying a child and a baby carriage. I remember that a Hareidi man actually did get up and offer me his seat when I was eight months pregnant, and the bus was in sardine-class mode.

When did this status quo suddenly become unacceptable? And more importantly, why? Is this really a battle over religious observance? Or is it a battle over something far less holy, and far more prosaic? "Separated buses are a wonderful opportunity to make some easy money in the Hareidi society; and this is what makes this issue so harsh," says Yonatan (not his real name), a Hareidi resident of Sanhedria in a recent article published in the Jerusalem Post. "From outside, in the secular world, it seems as if it is all about these things you may call fundamentalism. This is indeed how it started. But today, inside the Hareidi society, it is mainly a matter of earning a living. People here ask, 'Why should we renounce such an opportunity for profit, especially in these days of economic turmoil, and leave the profit to Egged?'"

According to Israeli law, the Ministry of Transportation must approve all bus stops, routes, and fares. Getting approval involves paying expensive tariffs to the Ministry of Transportation. Unauthorized buses and taxis are known in local slang as chapperim. In 2001, Hareidim began to operate just such an unauthorized line between Jerusalem and B'nai Brak, claiming that communication between them and the bus companies had broken down, and that their demands--including not only separate seating but also what music could be played on the radio, and what the stores in the Central Bus station could advertise and sell-were not being met.
In an article published on the Hareidi website Dei'ah Ve'Debur in 2001, author Betzalel Kahn wrote:

The Vaad Mehadrin, which acts in accordance with the dictates of gedolei Yisroel, faced two challenges-the
failure to come to a settlement with the various parties; and the bureaucratic obstacles placed before the route's implementation. As a result of the obstacles, the Vaad Mehadrin decided to utilize an independent, shomer Shabbos bus company to operate a new Jerusalem-B'nai Brak route, mainly as a means to pressure the bus cooperatives and the Ministry of Transportation to run the 402 line. The mehadrin line carried about 14,000 passengers during hol haMoed Succoth. This seems to have jarred the other factors into taking action. The one-way price was only NIS 10 (about $2.32) as opposed to Egged and Dan's inter-city fare of NIS 18.50 (about $4.29). The independent line's fare is 46 percent cheaper, without government subsidies and it still made a profit (emphasis added).

One cannot help wondering if this would have been true if tariffs had been paid.
The article continues:
Rabbi Micha Rothschild, one of the Vaad Mehadrin heads, said in an earlier interview, "Instead of the heads of the Transport Ministry meeting the minimal request of gedolei Yisroel, who demanded throughout the years to operate mehadrin lines for the Hareidi public, the Ministry of Transportation continued with its scheming against the new mehadrin line. Transport Ministry inspectors-with police assistance-followed the buses, stopped the drivers, fined them thousands of shekels, and even wanted to suspend the company's operating license. Such a situation is intolerable. The Hareidi public, which (almost) entirely utilizes public transportation, deserves a route run according to its values.
In recent weeks, Hareidim in Jerusalem began running their own mehadrin bus routes to the Kotel-again, illegally, without applying for a license or paying tariffs. This, they said, was in response to the Supreme Court's interim decision on our petition to prevent the bus companies from designating any more routes as mehadrin until our case was decided. Before we filed, new mehadrin lines were sprouting at the rate of ten a month all over the country, and not between Hareidi communities, but cities. This line, which did not apply for a license, and did not pay fees to the Ministry of Transportation, and had thus made no attempt to become legal, was shut down. The result was a carefully orchestrated "riot" by the Hareidi "public" who stoned Egged buses, causing the bus company to finally stop cooperating, taking umbrage, and refusing to provide any buses at all to Meah Shearim that day.
I must say I was delighted to see Egged finally show a little backbone. Unfortunately, Egged seemed far more outraged to see its profit margins attacked than its female passengers. I say this from personal experience.
My own involvement with this issue began several years ago when I inadvertently got on a completely empty bus that followed the most direct route to my then neighborhood Ramot, in Northern Jerusalem. Let me emphasize that my neighborhood was mixed: Orthodox, non-Orthodox, and Hareidi. At that time I had no idea such buses existed. I got on one not because I wanted to start a feminist protest, but simply to get home as quickly as possible from the center of town.
Choosing a single seat near the front of the bus, which was clearly visible to the silent driver who issued no demands and no warnings about what I had just unwittingly stepped into, I sat down and opened up a newly purchased magazine. Soon a young Hareidi man sat down in front of me. He turned around and delicately informed me that I wasn't allowed to sit where I had chosen to sit. I closed my magazine and looked at him. He was about my son's age. "Listen," I said. "I'm not sitting next to anyone. No one has to look at me if they choose not to. This is a public bus, and I'll sit wherever I choose." He didn't argue. Actually, he seemed uncomfortable, and simply turned around. Little did I know that this young man was actually trying to help me.
Returning to my article, I didn't notice that the bus was filling up in a peculiar, gender-segregated manner until a huge, sweating bear of a man in a black suit and hat leaned over me threateningly and shouted: "Move to the back of the bus! Who do you think you are? There are laws in this country!"
I stared at him, then looked around the bus. I was the only woman sitting in the front. My sisters were all in the back. Not a single one of them lifted her head or her voice. It was a moment of truth for me. I guess I could have gotten up and moved to the back. If only the gentleman in black wasn't hanging over me barking orders, perhaps I would have. But to be addressed in public in such a humiliating and aggressive manner by a stranger who felt that he had the right to order about with such barbaric lack of manners someone old enough to be his mother ('s younger sister) made me realize that I could not, without ruinous consequences for my dignity and self-respect, accommodate him. It really did make me feel like Rosa Parks. And so I said, quietly, but in hearing distance of all: "When you bring me a Shulhan Arukh and show me where it is written that I can't sit here, I'll move. Until then," I suggested a few places where he might go in the interim.
The reaction was explosive. He leaned in close and started to call me names that I shall not repeat. There is no question in my mind, that only the prohibitions of negiah (non-permitted contact with someone of the opposite gender) prevented him from picking me up bodily and heaving me out of my seat.
This is not paranoia.
Miriam Shear, a Canadian grandmother who took the number 2 bus to the kotel to pray every day (a bus not designated mehadrin by the way) who took a front seat and refused to move, was spat upon, had her head covering torn off, and was thrown to the ground and beaten by men in ultra-Orthodox clothing who apparently had fewer scruples about negiah.
Horror stories abound: A pregnant woman got on the 318 midnight bus from B'nai Brak to Rehovot. She sat in the front because of motion sickness, explaining this to the other passengers. One Hareidi man stopped the bus by standing with one foot outside and one on the step up so the driver couldn't close the door. The woman finally fled into the street in the middle of the night. The other passengers went looking for her and found her under a tree, humiliated, hurt, and refusing to re-board. She called her husband to come and get her. A young woman on the midnight bus from Safed to Afula boarded wearing pants, and had to fight with the driver and other passengers who insisted that she be thrown off the bus in the middle of the road. A grandmother helping her son and grandchildren to board a bus in Beit Shemesh through the front door was attacked and cursed. I could go on.
Faced with these horror stories, rabbinical response has been slow and mixed. There are of course, the people who got all this moving. Shlomo Rozenstein, a Vizhnitz Hassid and a city council member, has been at this for over eight years. "This is really about positive discrimination, in women's favor," he said recently to Katya Allen of BBC News. "Our religion says there should be no public contact between men and women, and this modesty barrier must not be broken." I'm sure R. Moshe Feinstein would have been surprised to hear this.
Modern Orthodox rabbis have not been in the forefront of this battle, but neither have they been silent. Rabbi Ratzon Arussi, chairman of the chief rabbinate's council on marital affairs and rabbi of Kiryat Ono, said that: "Halakhically speaking, it is preferable for a man to sit next to his wife than to have other women pushing past him to get to the back of the bus. Being with his wife keeps the husband's attention focused. Seating men up front causes additional problems. For instance, pregnant women or women with heavy bags are forced to walk all the way to the back of the bus. It is obvious that the men who initiated the mehadrin line did not think about women or about the halakhic problems created."
Indeed. A woman recently wrote to Rav Yuval Cherlow for a halakhic ruling, saying that she is forced to use the mehadrin lines to get to work, but that she finds it degrading to be told where to sit, and she is also prone to motion sickness at the back of the bus. Should she respect the religious extremism of others and go to the back to her own discomfort? Can she sit in a vacant front seat if there are not seats in the back? And what about elderly and pregnant women? His reply: "there is great importance in keeping the public forum a place that is tsanua, not having immodest advertising signs up, for example." But, Rav Cherlow also writes, "I am against the mehadrin buses. These buses are mehadrin in shaming other people, in dealing with tseni'ut in an immodest fashion." Rav Cherlow goes on to advise the questioner that if she is not doing it to stir up trouble, but for a purpose, such as health, or when there are no seats available elsewhere, "then you can sit wherever you want. And those who change things, they have the lower hand."
Can we not, all of us who care about real tseni'ut, agree that any benefits from a policy of sex segregation on public buses are far outweighed by the hardships and sins that such a policy causes? And can we not agree that the real result of this battle so far has been the transformation of neutral public spaces into sexually charged battlegrounds characterized by the verbal and even physical abuse of women who fail to fall into line with the new rules?
If we complain that the Reform Movement plays fast and loose with Jewish law, what is one to say about those in the Hareidi world who insist on twisting the halakha into the particular shape needed to accommodate their desire for both profit and a very particular and minority view of what constitutes purity in the public sector?
As for me, and the women who filed the petitions against these buses, I will repeat what I told the Jewish Chronicle in February 2007: "The insidious degradation of the faith I was born into, love, and have practiced faithfully all my life by fanatics who pervert its meaning in order to bully women in the name of God is something I cannot, and will not, abide. First and foremost because it is a desecration of God's name; and second, because it is limitless."
Modesty patrol hooligans already roam our Jerusalem streets. Paint and bleach have already been thrown at women by Hareidi "fashion critics"; immodest clothing has been snatched from Meah Shearim homes in house to house searches, and posters screaming "Dress modestly-or else" adorn many public streets. Now there are women being sent to the back of the bus, one more way for Judaism to go backward, turning our future into a past that never was.
I believe the time has come for rabbinical voices to be raised in protest against the treatment of women on these buses. As a Hareidi woman told me recently: "We hate these buses, but we can't say so openly because we don't want to be accused of being immodest. Someone has to speak for us."

Question: Confidentiality is a vital concern that impacts the freedom of expression of quite a number of professions. Many professionals receive confidential information as part and parcel of their normal involvement with their clients and/or patients. Rabbis are also privy to confidential data. At issue is whether halakha (Jewish law) provides any guidelines or rules pertaining to this matter?

Response: In terms of a general overview, it should be noted that the medical profession considers confidentiality as a cardinal precept of medical ethics. Indeed, for centuries doctors have committed themselves to the Hippocratic Oath upon assuming a medical career. The modern version of that Oath as replaced by the Declaration of Geneva adopted by the World Medical Association states, “I will respect the secrets which are confided in me, even after a patient has died”. In other words, as a doctor one may hear very private concerns. The doctor takes an oath that he or she will not divulge such information. The patient came to the doctor assuming confidentiality will govern their relationship and, therefore, the doctor must guard any and all private matters from becoming public. Yet, complications and moral quandaries may develop. A psychiatrist or therapist may have revealed to them information that might be potentially dangerous if kept confidential. Are they required to remain silent when such silence will negatively affect the community at large? Should they, for example, relate that a young man who recently proposed marriage to a young lady has AIDS? And what about, for example, the problems of the legal profession? In America, due to the rules of attorney-client-privilege and Codes of Professional Responsibility a lawyer may not reveal any information received in confidence or secret, even if necessary to prevent fraud. As such, knowledge emanating from the attorney-client relationship that Mr. X is an outright thief, may not be revealed to prevent others from being duped in a fraudulent scam. Rabbis, moreover, hear a litany of very private, painful confessions. At times, their investigation prior to serving as a wedding performer discloses very embarrassing details. Some deal with actions or illnesses that would taint the reputation of families should such information be revealed. Are rabbis obligated by Jewish law to preserve the confidentiality of their information? Or, to prevent a community liability or social problem, does Jewish law provide to rabbis the authority to reveal private information?

The first important principle is that unlike the medical and legal profession, the clergy, especially as noted by halakha, has, no special oath or rule proscribing the revealing of private, personal matters to others. In other words, there is no specific rabbi rule against violating confidentiality. It is not just rabbis who are forbidden to divulge secrets. Everyone, every Jew, no matter his or her profession or lack of a profession, is prohibited by Biblical law from telling private matters to others.

The Bible overtly states, “Thou shalt not go about as a talebearer among thy people”, (Lo Telekh ra’hil – Leviticus 19:16); the verse then concludes, “and thou shall not stand inactive (idly) by the blood of thy neighbor, I am God”. (translation, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch) The practical application of this is expounded by the Rambam. He rules,…”telling tales is a great sin. It served as the cause for the murder of many Jews. [Indeed,] this is the reason why adjacent to it [the verse prohibiting talebearing] is the verse prohibiting one to not stand idly by the blood of one’s friend.” The process of talebearing takes place “when a person goes from one to another and says this is what so-and-so said, this is what I heard about so-and-so, even though it is the truth, such is destructive of the world. A worse sin included in this [Biblical] prohibition is the sin of Iashon hara. That is the telling of something which is negative to one’s friend, even though it is truthful. (Rambam, Hilkhot De'ot Chapter 7: Laws 1 and 2.) Thus the sin of revealing private, confidential information is operational whether it is negative or positive. The sin is graver when the information is or may be negative. Also, the truth or falsity of the information revealed does not in any way provide a halakhic permit to divulge a confidence. (See also, Sanhedrin 31a and Yoma 4b)

There is a fascinating Talmudic citation corroborating this concept in Pesahim (113:b). The Talmud reports that a man by the name of Tuvia sinned. He committed adultery. A man called Zigud was aware of this sin and by himself, without another witness, he came to Bet Din, the Rabbinical Court to testify against Tuvia proclaiming that Tuvia was an adulterer. Rav Papa, the senior Rav of the Bet Din, punished Zigud for testifying. Zigud was appalled. He called out in protest, “Tuvia sinned and Zigud is punished?” In other words, the Bet Din did not punish Tuvia for the alleged sin of adultery. Zigud was, however, punished for he was guilty of lashon hara, telling negatives about another. In Jewish law sins relating to adultery require the presence of a minimum of two qualified witnesses. Bet Din will not accept the testimony of a singular witness in matters pertaining to adultery. Accordingly, Zigud should have known that Bet Din would not act upon his testimony. Thus, Zigud was in effect merely spreading gossip about Tuvia. The fact that the allegation may have been true was of no concern. Zigud was punished for informing others of slanderous material. He should have kept knowledge of the immoral act to himself.

I believe that those involved in professions that deal with confidential information and subsequently divulge such private concerns to others, may be deemed to have transgressed greater sins than ordinary people who tell tales and are involved in gossip. I have no actual halakhic ruling on this, but, I do believe Biblical law intimated this concept. The Torah details the punishments to be given to different types of theft. It states that whosoever steals an ox and/or sheep pays more than a crook who robs jewels from a house. Indeed, the Torah says, “he shall pay five oxen for the ox and four sheep for the sheep”. (Exodus 21:37) Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch suggests that the reason for the onerous punishment for stealing an ox or sheep is that such animals are generally kept outside in the open air. As such, one must trust the community not to violate private property even though the animals are not locked up in a home. To the extent that one must place greater trust in people concerning the security of animals, the punishment for the violation of this trust must be greater than a case where something was locked up in a home. Thus, whenever there is a situation wherein confidence is assumed, the violation of such trust should generate a more onerous punishment, not just from society, but also from religious law.

Of major, practical interest is that there is a vital provision that alters the above halakhic prohibition. Namely, the Biblical prohibition to divulge confidential information is limited to cases wherein the intention of the talebearer is to hurt the feelings or merely to disparage in some way the reputation of another. But what about a case wherein the intention is to prevent crime, to withhold damage from a community, to help the person involved, in such circumstances, many rabbis rule that halacha would permit the divulging of private, confidential information. The basic source for this is the Rambam who rules, “whoever is able to save another and does not endeavor to do so, violates the [prohibition of]’ do not stand idly by the blood of your friend, therefore, one who witnesses his friend drowning in the sea or brigands attacking him and he [has the ability to] save him, or he heard that people seek harm to him…and he does not contact his friend to reveal this, he is in violation of the Biblical prohibition of ‘do not stand idly over the blood of your neighbor.’” (Rambam, Hilkhot Ro-tzeah Chapter 1:14 See also Shulhan Arukh Hoshen Mishpat 42:1, cited by Rav Ovadia Yosef, Responsa Yehaveh Daat, Volume 4: Siman 60) Indeed, Rav Ovadia Yosef contends that the reason the Biblical verse starts with a prohibition against standing idly by the blood of your neighbor is to manifest that saving a neighbor from damage is more important than maintaining the confidentiality of certain information.

Thus, the rabbi and the professional practitioner are permitted and may even be required to reveal information that may prevent harm to others. This, for example, would mandate revealing knowledge that a prospective bridegroom had AIDS. It would, moreover, require one to reveal to a prospective employer that a certain person has a serious heart condition and should not be entrusted with becoming a bus driver for young children. It would, also obligate one to divulge information that will prevent monetary damage to others even though it could destroy the reputation of the person who confided the private information. This generates a difficult moral as well as professional dilemma. The fact that a psychologist may reveal to others, the foibles or illness of their clients to hopefully prevent communal damage may jeopardize the psychologist’s entire career. Word will get out that the psychologist does not honor a code of confidentiality. Accordingly, clients will feel that they cannot trust the therapist to withhold divulging private information. Once such a rumor takes hold in the community, no one will be willing to confide in the professional. At issue is whether a person is required to jeopardize his or her professional career by revealing confidential information detrimental to others. Namely, is a person obligated to sacrifice one’s own career to prevent others from being hurt? What ruling does halakha provide in such a quandary?

When confronted with the cost of observing a mitzvah, the rule is that one is not required to expend more than one fifth of income. As such, should an item required for the performance of a mitzvah cost more than one-fifth of one’s income, the Jew would not be obligated to purchase such a costly item, even as a result he would not observe the mitzvah. This rule relates only to the observance of positive mitzvoth. When dealing with the violation of negative mitzvoth, there is no financial limit imposed upon the Jew. All funds must be expended to forestall the violation of a Biblical negative command. (Rama, Shulchan Aruch Orach Chayyim 656) Scholars, however, finely hone this rule. They contend that the issue of concern is not whether the cost of observing a mitzvah is either a violation of a positive or a negative mitzvah. The issue is whether a positive action is necessary in order to violate the negative mitzvah, or whether a violation takes place by inaction, (as termed in Talmudic parlance, shev v’al ta’aseh). (Pit-hei Teshuva, Yoreh Deah 157:4) As such, silence in the face of a crime that may occur to others, does not obligate any professional to jeopardize their careers. In a way, it revolves around the pivotal issue of conscience and personal judgment. The key question is not necessarily what does Jewish law say, but, rather, can you live with yourself by the judgment you, yourself may have made. Namely, to speak or not to speak, that is the question.

Not many years ago a woman revealed to her Rabbi in Long Island that her husband was not aware that she stopped going to the Mikvah.The Rabbi , in an attempt to prevent the husband from committing a sin, revealed this information to her husband.The woman was aghast at this violation of confidentiality. The Rabbi defended himself by stating that it was his moral and religious obligation to prevent the husband from committing sin.Regardless of who was right, one glaring truth emanated from this incident. No one in the community would ever trust again confidential matters to the Rabbi in question His role as a trusted professional was over.Once the word is out that a Rabbi may reveal confidential matters, then the public will most probably not confide in him again. One means of ameliorating the difficulties of the decision making process, is to seek the advice of an objective third party. The Mishna Berura, for example, contends that in matters pertaining to money, it is best never to make a decision by oneself. In these matters the evil inclination will seek out legal loopholes of support. (Orakh Hayyim 605:1) In other words, the decision of an outsider will be much more objective and less tainted. So too in matters relating to moral quandaries. Seek out an objective voice. Many times, the Rabbi will be asked to make the judgment as to whether it is more ethical to be silent or to reveal confidences. His decision( hopefully) will be based upon Torah and moral principles, not just personal judgments. At times, the old rule that discreticon is the best of valour serves as the guiding standard. This issue needs community dialogue and input.

1.

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
 

"Can you point me to rabbis or other leadership figures in the Orthodox Jewish community who have spoken or written about the moral aspects of the financial crash and the economic crisis – and about a specifically Jewish ethical and moral view of what happened, relating also to the prominent role of Jews, including and perhaps especially observant Jews?"

"Do you know of anyone who, in the period of the stock market and property manias in the nineties and the decade just ended, talked or wrote about the trends underway in the financial sector in the US and elsewhere, and/ or in the housing market, as moral and ethical issues that should concern us deeply -- and that Orthodox / observant/ Torah True Jews should have something to say about?

These are the kind of questions I have been posing to (an admittedly unscientific sample of) rabbinic teachers, colleagues and friends in recent months. The responses can be categorized as follows:

a. "No, but why don’t you ask so-and-so, he's 'into' that kind of thing."

b. "Yes, you should see/ look up / speak to so-and-so or this-and-that." However, these references led to material that was either overtly halakhic and very narrowly focused, or that indulged in very general ethical reflections (such as that the crash and crisis highlight the role of Divine providence at the global and individual levels, or the need to adopt and maintain a modest lifestyle).

c. "Yes", followed by a referral to articles or speeches by relevant Jewish personalities – but addressed to non-Jewish audiences.

Taken together, these responses are profoundly discouraging. The answers translate as follows:

1. Even people who have a definite interest in this topic haven't seen or heard of relevant material. They, like me, want to believe that said material exists, but have no hard evidence thereof. They – we – are deliberately indulging in wishful thinking, because the alternative is too awful for us to contemplate.
2. Many people, including – or perhaps especially -- rabbis and educators actually have no clear idea what ethical and moral issues are. More precisely, they have great difficulty distinguishing between legal/ halakhic and moral/ethical treatments of issues, preferring to subsume the latter in theological, or even mystical, conceptual frameworks
3. Those who have addressed the topic from a moral perspective have preferred to direct their remarks to non-Jews. This is much the most depressing response of all.

None of this is meant to suggest that what I am looking for does not exist. Both I and most of my interlocutors continue to assume that such material does exist, that various people at various times did address various aspects of these complex and multi-faceted issues. I would therefore hope that one of the results of this article will be that kind readers will point me to 'relevant material', thereby substantiating our naïve faith.

But finding a few righteous men in Sodom will not change the basic premise of this article, which is that Orthodox Judaism, as currently conceived and practiced, is morally challenged. The ongoing financial and economic crisis is arguably not even the most severe moral challenge facing it and us. Rather, the crisis has exposed the moral bankruptcy of much of Orthodoxy – of all streams, in both the Israel and the Diaspora -- so sharply that henceforth this sorry state of affairs will be difficult, if not impossible, to continue to ignore.

To apply Warren Buffett's famous aphorism, 'you only find out who's been swimming naked, when the tide goes out' – and for the Orthodox, the tide has gone out. In the same way that the crash is already seen as marking the end of an era -- that stretched from the end of the Second World War until 2007 -- in everything from economic theory to household financial behavior; so, I believe, it marks the end of an era in Jewish history – the era of recovery from the Holocaust, which featured demographic and cultural reconstruction which came to be led by the Orthodox, but also a restructuring of Jewish values. In the latter process, some old values were downgraded, marginalized or even dropped, while others – perhaps no less ancient – were upgraded and moved to center stage.

The crisis has exposed the existence of a widespread moral darkness within, indeed at the heart of, Orthodox Judaism. This black hole expresses itself the way all such negative moral phenomena do – via silence.

2.

In restless dreams I walked alone
 

Let's cut to the quick. What I am looking for is moral leadership, which I define as people with the courage to tell at least the members of their flock, if not the world at large, what is wrong with what they are doing and how they can and should do better. In the best case, this leadership should be demonstrated in real time – i.e. with regard to what is currently happening or likely to happen, but if it appears ex post, that is considerably better than nothing.

I expect this leadership to relate to the moral and ethical aspects of that broad swathe of human existence that is currently pigeonholed by the think-only-by, about and inside-the-box society that we live in, as 'macro-economics', 'finance' and 'labour'. My reading of Torah, Nakh, Talmud and Midrash suggests that this whole aspect of human activity is central to the theory and practice of Judaism. If, therefore, it is now enveloped in crisis, it is impossible that Judaism has nothing to say about it, beyond theological platitudes and/or legal formulations. It should, therefore, be impossible for the recognized leadership of Orthodox Judaism, which constantly stresses its credentials as THE ONLY authentic Judaism, to be silent.

What do I expect it to say? What, in other words, am I talking about others talking about? The simplest and best way of illustrating this is to give a concrete example of moral leadership, as defined above. The following is an extract from a speech given to a group of Canadian bankers and other financial sector types, in February 2009 at the very height of the crisis. The speaker is Paul Volcker, the octogenarian former Chairman of the Federal Reserve Bank who, when appointed by President Carter in 1979 with a mandate to end the inflation that had been eating away at the American economy and society for 15 years, proceeded to raise interest rates to 20% per annum and push the economy into not one, but two, recessions, in order to get the job done. Clearly, he is not someone afraid of a challenge or of making sacrifices to achieve essential goals.  We 'join' the audience in the midst of Volcker's description of what went wrong and how:

You might ask how [the housing/ mortage boom] went on as long as it did. The grading agencies didn't do their job and the banks didn't do their job and the accountants went haywire. I have my own take on this. There were two things that were particularly contributory and very simple. Compensation practices had gotten totally out of hand and spurred financial people to aim for a lot of short-term money without worrying about the eventual consequences. And then there was this obscure financial engineering that none of them understood, but all their mathematical experts were telling them to trust. These two things carried us over the brink.

One of the saddest days of my life was when my grandson – and he's a particularly brilliant grandson – went to college. He was good at mathematics. And after he had been at college for a year or two I asked him what he wanted to do when he grew up. He said, "I want to be a financial engineer." My heart sank. Why was he going to waste his life on this profession?

A year or so ago, my daughter had seen something in the paper, some disparaging remarks I had made about financial engineering. She sent it to my grandson, who normally didn't communicate with me very much. He sent me an email, "Grandpa, don't blame it on us! We were just following the orders we were getting from our bosses." The only thing I could do was send him back an email, "I will not accept the Nuremberg excuse."

Bear with me as I analyse these three paragraphs. This is the former Fed chairman talking to bankers. Does he use jargon – let alone numbers, formulae or Greek symbols? No. In one paragraph, seven sentences, 108 words, he says everything any semi-intelligent Martian would need to know to understand the sources and development of the crisis, through to its denouement.

But these are bankers he is talking to. They already 'know' all this. Precisely for that reason, Volcker lays it out for them in simple words, and then lays it in to them with a series of powerful, accurate blows: Incompetents – BIFF! Liars – POW! Greedy and irresponsible – WHAM! And the coup de grace, conceited fools – CRACK!!

Then the switch from his audience's generalized stupidity to his own intense personal pain: his grandson decides to squander his promise and potential on the alchemy of financial engineering. Volcker is well aware that his smart grandson can and probably will (in the pre-crash world) earn millions in his chosen career, but that does not prevent him from defining this decision – entirely correctly from a moral and a religious perspective – as 'wasting his life'.

Most of us, even if we felt that way, would not allow it to come between us and our beloved grandchild. Volcker did – and does not shrink from telling his (now-adult) grandson that his moral compass is on a par with that of a Nazi war criminal.

That kind of thinking is what I call moral clarity and that kind of talk, in public, is what I call moral leadership. So when I ask readers to point me to written or spoken words from Orthodox Jewish leaders relating to the entire gamut of moral issues thrown up by the boom, mania, crash and bust – from systemic risk to one young man's dilemmas in life – that's the kind of thing I'm looking for.

Do you know a rabbi, of any stripe, from any stream, who stood up before, during or at least after the crash and told his congregation of real-estate/ stock-market speculators that they were scoundrels and probably criminals to boot? Do you know of a rosh yeshiva who told a talmid looking to leave the yeshiva and get a job, not to 'waste his life' in a highly-regarded and very high-paying profession? Or an Admor who told a hassid that adopting the business practices of his bosses or colleagues was morally repugnant? If you do, you have the privilege of being exposed to moral leadership. I'm looking for it, so far unsuccessfully -- and if I can’t find it among rabbis, rashei yeshiva and Admorim, I'll take it where it's available.

Yet there is a concept that "by two witnesses' testimony shall the matter be established". Let me therefore quote another prominent figure in the financial sector, this time someone in the very heart of one of its most morally problematic areas, namely mutual fund management.

John Bogle is the founder of Vanguard, a company that pioneered low-cost fund management. This is hardly the place to examine the pros and cons of Bogle's approach, but it's not irrelevant to note that his concept is based on the premise that investors in regular mutual funds are consistently and systematically ripped-off by their fund managers' panoply of fees. Here he is in an op-ed in the Wall Street Journal in April 2009:

I recently received a letter from a Vanguard shareholder who described the global financial crisis as "a crisis of ethic proportions." Substituting "ethic" for "epic" is a fine turn of phrase, and it accurately places a heavy responsibility for the meltdown on a broad deterioration in traditional ethical standards.

Commerce, business and finance have hardly been exempt from this trend. Relying on Adam Smith's "invisible hand," through which our self-interest advances the interests of society, we have depended on the marketplace and competition to create prosperity and well-being.

But self-interest got out of hand. It created a bottom-line society in which success is measured in monetary terms. Dollars became the coin of the new realm. Unchecked market forces overwhelmed traditional standards of professional conduct, developed over centuries.

The result is a shift from moral absolutism to moral relativism. We've moved from a society in which "there are some things that one simply does not do" to one in which "if everyone else is doing it, I can too." Business ethics and professional standards were lost in the shuffle.

The driving force of any profession includes not only the special knowledge, skills and standards that it demands, but the duty to serve responsibly, selflessly and wisely, and to establish an inherently ethical relationship between professionals and society. The old notion of trusting and being trusted -- which once was not only the accepted standard of business but the key to success -- came to be seen as a quaint relic of an era long gone.

It's worth citing Bogle just to put that wonderful phrase – alas, of anonymous authorship – 'a crisis of ethic proportions', before a wider audience. But here, too, a few paragraphs suffice for a man with a functioning moral compass to pinpoint the moral rot that led to the systemic disaster that is still unfolding.

3.

And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence
 

The foregoing examples not only illustrate what moral leadership is, they also provide at least a partial answer as to why it is so rare and why, in particular, virtually no prominent Orthodox leader has given voice to the moral outrage so palpable across America since the crash, and so prevalent within the Jewish community as well – but seething beneath the surface.

Moral leadership demands a larger measure of courage than most people have. This is especially the case when your job is on the line – as it most assuredly would be for most community rabbis, if they dared take a stand that directly challenged the moral mores of their immediate community and the wider stream or branch of Judaism that they and it belonged to. And if losing their livelihood was not enough for most pulpit rabbis, school principals and even rashei yeshiva, there are also the 'knock-on' effects of their audacity on their family, from their wives – who are usually also deeply engaged in community activities, to their children, whose education and, at least in some circles, marriage prospects would be at stake.

In that sense, Paul Volcker was free to speak his mind, because he held no post and his personal and family situation is not at risk. John Bogle, of course, is independently wealthy as a result of Vanguard's success and hence similarly worry-free.

But the 'excuse' of personal/ family vulnerability does not stand up to close examination. What would the average rabbi of an Orthodox community do, if his congregants became regular visitors to gambling joints? Strip clubs? Gay bars? If board members owned such outfits? If the president was a convicted pedophile?

In fact, there is no need to use such lurid examples. Owning shops selling pork, or any business operating on Shabbat, would be quite sufficient. In any of these cases, most rabbis would be forced to take a stand, even if they were weak and sought to avoid confrontations, and whether or not their job was on the line. Nor would most school principals or rashei yeshiva hesitate to act if people engaged in these problematic activities held positions on their boards.

There's the rub. Both public Sabbath transgression and overt trafficking in pork, despite their very different halakhic implications, are clear and obvious casus belli for Orthodox religious functionaries. In such cases, accusing a rabbi of exceeding what is expected of him would strike even irreligious or non-Jewish observers, as ludicrous. Yet taking a stand against persons found guilty of a broad range of 'white-collar crimes' is not considered an obvious casus belli, even for Orthodox Jews who define themselves as observant and/or 'Torah True'. Indeed, it may well be closer to hara kiri on the part of a rabbi who tries it.

This distinction has no basis in Jewish law, let alone in the corpus of rabbinic ethical literature. But it reflects the behavioral norms of many Orthodox Jews and the mores of many Orthodox communities.

Nor is the fear, or practical impossibility, of clashing with communal lay leaders – who are usually the religious leader's employer, whether directly or indirectly – the only factor behind the phenomenon of silence. Often, the claim will be made that speaking or writing in public about these issues will cause, or spur, anti-Semitism. Today, with anti-Jewish feeling and activity on the rise almost everywhere, that is certainly not a concern that can be lightly dismissed. But it can, nonetheless, be dismissed in most cases.

Two counter-arguments immediately suggest themselves. One is that most anti-Semitism is irrational and will always find itself a 'cause', or excuse, whether we provide it or not. The other is that it is not the principled stand against moral turpitude that will cause anti-Semitism, but the failure to denounce moral breakdown and thereby facilitate its continued spread. The prominence of Jews in the hated financial elite is, in today's charged atmosphere, causing far more anti-Semitism than would the explicit denunciation of the ills of the financial system by Jewish religious personalities.

But, of course, the real reason why the anti-Semitism argument is so weak is because we cannot agree, in principle and a fortiori, to conduct our communal life on the basis of what the reaction of anti-Semites might be. The content and tone of the intra-communal debate may take account of it, but it surely cannot set the agenda.

The silence of many religious leaders in the face of moral challenges stemming from the areas of business and finance reflects conflicts of interest on their part. In many cases, rabbis have an interest in the financial wellbeing of individuals who are prominent supporters of institutions that operate under their aegis. They are therefore compromised in their ability to address problematic aspects of the business areas in which those persons are engaged – let alone the specific business practices of those persons.

Many rabbis actually seem to believe that the means can and do justify the ends, so that the worthy goal of an educational institution or a charitable endeavor may require ignoring the source of the funds that realized that goal – both the person and the business activity in which he garnered his wealth. From there it is but a short step to the implicit recognition of using wealth obtained illegally or immorally to 'buy salvation'.

Finally, as a spate of cases has shown, leadership can be complicit not by merely ignoring the issues, but by direct involvement. Obviously, in such cases there is no point in discussing moral leadership – nor do moral issues resonate with the followers.

4.

Silence like a cancer grows
 

Was it ever thus? Was there always a huge gulf between the moral heroes and the lofty ethical principles depicted in the sacred literature, and the grubby reality of life as people – rabbis and laymen alike – lived it?

No doubt to some extent it was. But there is evidence that Orthodox Jewish society did not always feature a warped value system in which business ethics and money morality is relegated to second-class status, at best.

One of the few people who has devoted himself to writing and speaking about Jewish business ethics is Dr Meir Tamari. His work and research has generated several books, as well as numerous articles published in general and Orthodox newspapers and magazines.

Tamari is convinced that the phenomenon of religious bifurcation, in which ritualistic and theological/ mystical elements of Judaism have risen to prominence whilst inter-personal and, in particular, pecuniary moral and ethical practices have withered, is neither very recent – meaning post-Holocaust, nor very ancient – meaning pre-modern.

He suggests that it was the demise of the kehilla as the lynchpin of Jewish society that started the rot. This development can be traced back to the impact of the Khmelnitsky massacres in the mid-17^th century, and the subsequent descent of most of East European Jewry into chronic and deep poverty. The political dismemberment of Poland in the late 18^th century and the Napoleonic wars were the coup de grace for the old structure, leaving a society in which a very narrow stratum had wealth whilst the mass of people had nothing – except babies, in the huge population explosion of the 19^th century.

With no fiscal autonomy – because the kehilla's taxation powers were gone – the religious leadership became entirely dependent on the few rich people available for their own financial survival and that of their families and their institutions, whether these last were yeshivot or the courts of the hassidic leaders. That structure was inherently corrupt and served as a further spur to the process already underway, as Enlightenment ideas and values spread through Jewish population centers, of a growing estrangement and eventual mass flight of Jewish youth from their ancestral religion.

This undemocratic and unhealthy social structure has survived into the 21^st century, and indeed thrived, despite the fact that today's Jewish society is completely different from that of pre-Holocaust Europe, with affluence having replaced poverty, especially in the Western Diaspora. Much academic work needs to be done to understand and explain how the structure has proved so robust, but for the purposes of this article, the existence of this social structure and its salient characteristics, including its warped moral value system, must be accepted as fact.

The proof Tamari cites for his hypothesis is telling, because it comes from direct documentary evidence of social, religious and economic conditions and values among Orthodox Jews over the centuries – namely the responsa literature. He notes a sharp decline in the percentage of responsa dealing with 'money matters' – as opposed to ritual (food, Shabbat etc.) and personal status issues --  in the modern period compared to the earlier period of Jewish history in pre-Khmelnitsky Poland and, earlier still, in Spain and Franco-Germany. This is certainly something for scholars to subject to further scrutiny.

In the more recent period – the last century or so -- Tamari notes another change creeping into the responsa literature, a change that resonates to the sounds of silence. A typical pre-modern responsum relating to a monetary dispute would provide a thorough analysis of the legal aspects of the matter under discussion and conclude by presenting a legal ruling. Often, however, it would not stop there, but would append a short addendum that discussed the moral aspects of the dispute and suggest a possible extra-legal resolution which would probably require one or both parties to rise above the letter of the law and take an ethical, rather than a purely legal view of the situation. Tamari finds that this latter approach has fallen into desuetude and is rarely found in the recent and contemporary responsa literature.

This chimes well with what we see and hear all around us: rabbis and other religious functionaries have increasingly become religious technocrats, honed in their specialties and well-versed in the professional literature pertaining to these specialties – e.g. Shabbat or medical halakhot – but increasingly distant from the empathetic approach that might enable them and their questioners/ litigants to rise above the legal sphere of din to the moral sphere of 'lifnim mishurat hadin'.

In fact, the contemporary questioner may not even want that kind of answer. That is what Haym Soloveitchik highlighted in his article, Rupture & Reconstruction, especially in the final sentence: "[Contemporary Orthodox Jews], having lost the touch of His presence …now seek solace in the pressure of His yoke". In those areas of their lives where Orthodox Jews seek rabbinic guidance, they want din, not lifnim mishurat hadin. And in the wider context, people get the leadership and the leadership style that they want and deserve – in religion as in politics.

5

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
 

This is what John Bogle clearly understands and expressed so well in the article quoted above. The moral rot that found such dramatic expression in the financial crash of 2007-09 is rooted in the collapse of those basic human values – trust, reliability, mutual confidence – without which commercial and financial activity cannot take place. It requires no great intellectual leap to see that the same values are needed in the domestic sphere, to make marriage and family life work. The moral collapse is taking place across the board, even if the dynamics of breakdown differ between areas of human activity.

It is also essential not to fall into the trap of thinking that this is a recent process, dating back only a few years. Over twenty years ago, an investment banker of a bygone age whose name still has positive connotations for veteran New Yorkers (imagine – an investment banker who did good and was held in high esteem!), wrote a similar article making a similar point. That was Felix Rohatyn and he, too, was bemoaning the rise of a new and corrupt culture on Wall Street – a culture in which the moral concept of "it isn’t done" was replaced by the legal approach that if it isn't against the law, it's OK. Once the lawyers were in control, the next stage of the collapse of ethical behavior was the rise of the compliance culture, which effectively said that no-one can be trusted not to break the rules, so we'll watch everyone all the time.

But the moral decline of Wall Street in the 1980s that Rohatyn mourned, that Tom Wolfe lampooned in Bonfire of the Vanities and that Oliver Stone pilloried in his 1987 movie Wall Street, seems minor and almost childish compared to what we have witnessed this last decade.

Yet in the 1980s there were still relatively few Orthodox Jews in the big Wall Street banks and investment houses. By the time the naughties -- as the outgoing decade is sometimes called – rolled round, there were many, the product of hard work and excellent grades achieved in the top business schools. By this time, the obstacles to Orthodox Jews working in these lucrative and highly-regarded jobs had largely been solved – even the need to sometimes miss two consecutive working days, because of the incidence of Jewish festivals. Orthodox employees in leading firms in the world's two main financial centers of New York and London conducted minha services daily in corporate boardrooms and often managed to cram a daf yomi session, or other limmud Torah, into their long and hectic working days at the office. Their gentile colleagues thought nothing of the need to accommodate aspects of the Orthodox lifestyle. Multi-culturalism was the norm in downtown Manhattan as in London's Canary Wharf, so that trading rooms wherein bearded and skull-capped Moslems, Jews and Sikhs (turbans for them!) worked side by side became an unremarkable sight.

In between the praying, the learning, the kosher sushi and all the rest, the new generation of Orthodox youngsters participated, willingly and even enthusiastically, in the creation, design and sale to unsuspecting suckers across the country and around the world of those 'financial weapons of mass destruction' – in Warren Buffett's telling phrase -- that have inflicted massive damage on the American public and, ironically but fittingly, brought the entire Wall Street culture crashing down around them.

Most of these young people, despite (or is it because of?) their background in the world's leading yeshivot, seminaries and other institutes of advanced Jewish study,   never saw the inconsistency in this behavior. They made sure to raise the point in their job interviews with potential employers of their need to leave early on winter Fridays. Did any mention to their interviewer before taking the job, or to their superiors or peer reviewers in periodic meetings while on the job, that they felt uncomfortable – nay, sickened – by the foul-mouthed patter that was standard style on trading floors, or by the crude sexist banter and 'jokes' that were the norm in most departments of most firms?

Did any of them discuss, among themselves or with their rabbis, rebbes, mekubalim and other religious mentors, the moral chasm between the readings in the Torah and Prophets they heard read in synagogue on Shabbat morning, or the sentiments contained in their kids' divrei torah at the Shabbat table, and what they heard and did when they went back to work on Monday morning (if not on Sunday)? Were they confused? Did they feel disoriented? Or were they able to live totally compartmentalized lives?

It seems that many did and continue to do just that – as a survival mechanism for religious people in a secular and hence culturally hostile world. The multi-cultural ethos of 'live and let live' allows them to fulfill their religious obligations – washing before and reciting grace after meals, praying minha and even learning or reciting Psalms at work or while commuting – and still work in any sector, at any level.

But these achievements in the area of professional and workplace integration have exacted an enormous, terrible moral price. People integrated into companies, industries and professions where moral values have eroded or diluted have, inevitably even if unconsciously, become corrupted. Many of them are today either amoral or immoral, although they delude themselves into believing that their religion, as they understand and practice it, makes them morally superior and provides them with a large measure of immunity to the immoral wider culture in which they move.

Thus it is that there are many Orthodox Jews – from 'modern' to 'hareidi' – whose minds and hearts are already lost to Judaism. They lean emotionally toward Gordon Gekko, the villain of Wall Street, whose motto is simple and direct: "greed is good" – because it gets you what you want. Worse still, they lean intellectually toward Ayn Rand and her hero John Galt in Atlas Shrugged. Most of them, of course, have never heard of Rand, let alone read the ideas she put into John Galt's mouth. Yet the views of many of the younger generation of Orthodox Jews, especially but not only in the US, are aligned with her extreme capitalist ideology, despite its being profoundly anti-Jewish and, in the deepest sense, idolatrous.

6.

And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
 

The unfolding crisis has exposed the false gods once again as being unable to deliver the goods. Nothing new there – the young Abram tried to explain that to his father Terah in Ur of the Chaldees and it seems that Terah eventually got the point. Ayn Rand's most prominent devotee, Alan Greenspan – the man who followed Volcker as Fed chairman-- at least had the intellectual and moral courage to publicly admit that ideas he had held and nurtured for decades had been destroyed by the financial crash.

If Greenspan can see the light, there must surely be hope for all those others whose minds have been less severely poisoned. Unfortunately, the crash is likely to prove only the first stage of a prolonged crisis which will impose deep and painful changes on the economy and society of America and the entire Western world. But this trauma provides the opportunity for Orthodox Judaism to admit that it took the wrong turn some way back and needs to get onto a road that leads somewhere worth going.

How do we find our way back to where we went wrong, and how do we then go right?

Finding our way back is the definition of  teshuva, repentance. We know that the essential first step of teshuva is to accept and then admit that what we thought and/ or did was wrong. That means ending the fraudulent pretence that current Orthodox theology and lifestyle are good enough, let alone ideal.

From there, it's got to be back to basics – and basics in Judaism means education. But education can no longer mean what it is still widely taken to mean – the maintenance of traditional religious values and practices. As Haym Soloveitchik explained 15 years ago, the assumption that basic values will be effortlessly absorbed by Jewish children growing up in a Jewish culture is not true or workable in today's world.

Basic values that used to be commonly accepted and upheld by all Western societies, can no longer be taken for granted. They are going to have to be taught, imparted, inculcated – consciously and carefully. The values governing that huge part of people's lives encompassing work, income, wealth, spending and investment must be resuscitated and these activities rescued from the clutches of 'professional experts' -- and then re-integrated into an overall moral framework, along with family, health and well-being and all the other central components of our lives.

Jews have always prized learning and scholastic achievement, but they have also always had high regard for wealth and business acumen. Yissachar and Zevulun are both legitimate role models in the Jewish tradition, especially when they work in partnership. But there was always something else, more fundamental than either intellectual or material success. This something was so taken for granted that it actually went without saying -- until it now seems that it has gone completely, without even saying goodbye.

That intangible something is morality – an amorphous catch-all encompassing values such as honesty, integrity, responsibility. In the Ashkenazi-Jewish world it was termed 'mentchlichkeit' and among all Jews it was demanded of everyone, rich or poor, learned or ignorant. Before anything else and above all else, you had to be a mentsch.

One of the many aphorisms attributed to the Kotsker Rebbe relates to the way Megillat Esther introduces Mordechai as 'ish yehudi', 'a Jewish man'. The word ish seems superfluous – but that is not the case at all, said the Rebbe. First you have to be a mentsch, only then can you be a Jew.

That's what we have lost somewhere along the way and that's what we have to get back to.

One Shabbat, on which we read parashat toledot, I heard a talk-and was duly educated. "Don't be misled"-the speaker warned-"by your English translations that render the Hebrew word beMirmah (Genesis 27:35) as ‘guile' or ‘deceit.' Instead, to correctly convey the meaning of beMirmah one must paraphrase it as ‘not entirely in sync with halakha.'" He went on to explain that the Torah's words expressing disapproval or vilification, such as sheker, ra‘, resha‘, ‘avel, and so forth were basically synonymous-all denoting greater or lesser degrees of non-conformity to halakha. Conversely, the Torah's approbatory epithets-emet, tov, tsedek, and their like-denoted conformity; and were on no account to be confused with such non-halakhic notions as truth, goodness, and righteousness. He wrapped up with a general admonition to the effect that we must beware of projecting alien, subjective values onto Torah whose sole value is obedience to halakha.

At the time, and for many moons thereafter, I puzzled over that d'var torah. Because if biblical tov refers to halakhic adherence, how to understand its occurrence in Genesis 1:4 that says "God saw that the light was tov"? And as for its antonym ra‘, what to do about its verbal form leRa‘ot (Exodus 23:2)-especially as understood by the Oral Torah (Sanhedrin 2a and Rashi ad loc.)? Similarly with emet; how should we construe its meaning in, say, Deuteronomy 13:15 or 17:4-or for that matter sheker's meaning at Deuteronomy19:18?

To be sure, here and there solutions to some of these perplexities would turn up. A book entitled Melakhim Omenayikh (Bene Beraq 1992) dropped a hint as to how tov's use in regard to light (and to other of God's creations, as in Genesis 1:10, 31) might connote conformity to halakha:

Perhaps, since as the Zohar teaches, God looked into the Torah and created the world it follows that the world was made to conform to Torah-not vice versa. Thus, it is not because people need food that birkat haMazon [grace after meals] was given; on the contrary, because one of the commandments is birkat haMazon therefore humans were created with a need to eat. Similarly, once it was said "A mother for the first thirty days after giving birth shall have her needs attended to by non-Jews" (Shabbat 129a)-the world being subservient to Torah-it became inevitable that non-Jews should be present in Jewish homes to tend mothers, their babes and other sick Jews.

Accordingly, the light will have been deemed tov inasmuch as it corresponded to its Torah blueprint. As to the Torah's commandment that courts of law seek diligently after emet, more than one disciple of the "obedience only" persuasion offered enlightenment. You see, they urged, you misunderstand the text because you approach it with prejudices such as the assumption that cross-examination of witnesses is merely a means to the end of getting at the facts of a case. That's erroneous; the Talmud categorically affirms the arbitrariness of the ‘ed zomem law (Deuteronomy19:16-19) in its famous dictum "‘Ed zomem [law] is an anomaly [hiddush]; for why otherwise do we [mechanically] rely on the second pair of witnesses and dismiss the first?" (Sanhedrin 27a). Surely that dictum proves that the halakhot of testimony, like all other halakhot, are to be followed to the letter without teleological considerations. Thus emet used by the Torah in connection with testimony, far from refuting the "halakhic-conformity" thesis, ratifies it-once you shed your biases and accept the inscrutability of the Torah's testimony laws as indicated at Sanhedrin 27a and confirmed by Rashi who defines hiddush as gezerat haKatub. This latter argument is of course specious. For in singling out ‘ed zomem as anomalous (hiddush), the dictum makes ‘ed zomem the exception that proves the rule. Yet whether sound or specious, one has to marvel at such special pleading whose only perceivable purpose is the elimination of concepts such as truth and falsehood from the Torah.
Some good folks suggested that these seemingly tortuous arguments should be viewed as mutations of the "jural" theory of moral law; or, alternatively, of Divine Command Theory. Hastings' entry on the ancient debate between the teleological and jural schools was duly consulted:

[The teleological] was characteristic of Greek theories; the latter became dominant in Christian times. Their essential difference is this... [U]nder the teleological conception moral law is looked upon as a matter of self-expression ... and its laws are regarded as rules for the attainment of a good which every man [i.e. person] naturally seeks. In the jural system, on the other hand, it is not the natural value of an act that renders it moral, but its value as commanded by the law. It is not commanded because it is good, but it is good because commanded ... In the theological systems moral law is regarded as a rule of conduct which has its ground in the nature or will of God and not in the nature of man or in the consequences involved in obedience or disobedience to the law. The rule may be for the good of man, but it is for his good because it is the divine will, and not the divine will because it is for his good. (Encyclopoedia of Religion and Ethics, vol. 8 p. 833f.)

Obviously the jural shares with the anti-emet position its basic repudiation of the idea of right conduct being autonomously knowable. But beyond that point of convergence the two go their own sweet ways. For instance, the jural-even its theological version-does not preclude the possibility of a divine command recognizing human nature and working with it. Thus it would be quite feasible for a religious ‘juralist' to imagine God saying to human beings: "Behold I have created you with a capacity to distinguish life from death, truth from falsehood, good from evil, justice from injustice. Now unless I issue an explicit decree to the contrary, you are always to choose life over death, good over evil" and so on. On receiving such a divine command the religious "juralists" will diligently hone their God-given capabilities for distinguishing right from wrong. The scenario just described is not hypothetical, but rather the traditional Jewish understanding, from Abraham onwards, of what it means to accept Torah. Avraham avinu was so deeply convinced of God's demand for justice that he exclaimed "Will the Judge of all the earth not do justice!" Yet when equally convinced that the same God had told him explicitly, unequivocally and directly (not via another agent) to go and perform the out-of-character and seemingly unjust akeidah-he obeyed. In other words, there is no conflict in an Abrahamic-type faith between the belief in God's revealed "passion" for righteousness (see, for example, Deuteronomy16:20, Jeremiah 9:23, or Psalms 11:7) and a readiness to reverse course at God's specific and unmediated behest. Because for Judaism, God our Creator is also the Creator of Torah and its morality, all of which He can scrap or modify at will. Nevertheless, the suspension of Torah is not something even the most "jural" of Jews have to watch for on a daily basis. Instead, their focus is directed to making just and life-enhancing choices resignedly and joyously in submission to the divine will as they find it manifest in Torah. Those who would contrive to expunge truth and righteousness from Torah must be driven by something other than a commitment to jural theory.

As for Divine Command Theory (hereafter DCT), like the religious version of jural theory, it has no use for autonomous morality. Robert Merrihew Adams may seem to be pushing it, but is in reality only drawing the logical conclusions of a robust DCT: "Suppose God should ask me to make it my chief end in life to inflict suffering on other human beings, for no other reason than that he commanded it [...] Will it seriously be claimed that in that case it would be wrong for me not to practice cruelty...?" (The Virtue of Faith, 1987 pp. 98-99, quoted by Paul Rooney in Divine Command Morality, 1996, p. 102).

DCT is thought to have been adumbrated by William of Ockham (d. 1347), the earliest known philosopher to explicitly reject an immutable natural law on the grounds of its incompatibility with revelation. This is how Frederick Copleston summarizes Ockham:

A created free will is subject to moral obligation ... [man] is morally obliged to will what God orders him to will and not to will what God orders him not to will ... "Evil is nothing else than to do something when one is under an obligation to do the opposite..." For St. Thomas [Aquinas] ... there are acts which are intrinsically evil and which are forbidden because they are evil; they are not evil simply because they are forbidden. For Ockham, however, the divine will is the ultimate norm of morality: the moral law is founded on the free divine choice rather than ultimately on the divine essence. Moreover, he did not hesitate to draw the logical consequences from this position ... "By the very fact that God wills something, it is right for it to be done ... Hatred of God, stealing, committing adultery, are forbidden by God. But they could be ordered by God; and if they were, they would be meritorious acts." (A History of Philosophy, vol. 3, pp. 103-105)

Rabbi Michael J. Harris's 2003 Divine Command Ethics also deals with Ockham, but Harris' main enterprise is to discover DCT in Jewish sources. The only unambiguous examples he is able to muster come from the writings of Yeshayahu Leibowitz (d. 1994).

Leibowitz repeatedly emphasizes ... that human needs, interests and values have no legitimate place whatsoever in Judaism. Characteristic is the following statement: "Judaism is not a programme for the solution of the problems of humanity but [a programme for] the service of God." And in one of Leibowitz's sharpest formulations: "The essence of religion as service of God is that it conflicts with the needs and nature of man"... [He] frequently stresses that ‘the needs and nature of man' includes human moral needs. The service of God is at odds with human ethical perceptions. (Divine Command Ethics, p. 118)

These quotations encapsulate Leibowitz's definition of the Jewish faith-a definition he concocted dogmatically, making scant appeal to classical Jewish sources. So how, in fact, did he get round those countless sources that others take to be the ethical teachings of Scripture and Talmud? Harris does record that Leibowitz was once asked where "Love your neighbor as yourself" (Leviticus 19:18) fit into his scheme. He quipped that the verse continues "I am the Lord," words that call for nothing more than servile compliance. Too bad he was not pressed on the emet and tsedek Scriptures that lack the phrase "I am the Lord"! In any case, there is no evidence that he invested them with the one-fits-all meaning of "halakhic compatibility."

With Leibowitz we have exhausted all the standard "suspects" at whose door might have been laid the severing of Torah from its moral moorings. Thus all eyes are turned to our last hope: the enigmatic, so-called Analytic System (also Method or Movement; hereafter AM). Originally developed by Rabbi Hayim Soloveitchik of Brisk (or Bresc, d. 1918), it is perpetuated, mutatis mutandis, in several American and Israeli yeshivot. The system's practical ramifications that relate to Talmud study are familiar enough and doubtless less recondite than its "metaphysics." But that too may be glimpsed thanks to the research of a number of scholars. Let us cite two of the most incisive studies. First, R. Norman Solomon's pioneering monograph The Analytic Movement: Hayyim Soloveitchik and his Circle (Atlanta, 1993):

The Analytic Movement is an important key for understanding contemporary Orthodoxy. The reification of halakha points directly to J. D. Soloveitchik's philosophy in which the world of halakha is seen as an a priori realm that confronts the worlds of science and religion. This underlies the absolutization of halakha and its sundering from its roots in social reality... (p. XI)

The basic requirement of this [the Analytic] approach is that the Law be upheld at all costs. If there is a contradiction between law and any other source of knowledge, the other source must yield. Thus we read of [R. Baruch Dov] Leibowitz that "he always said the Torah cannot be understood by the logic of human reason, but by the ways and principles of the Torah; therefore one should adapt one's understanding to the Torah, not the Torah to one's understanding." This is indeed a far cry from the contention of the medieval philosophers that the Divine will was in conformity with reason ... This attitude has recently been referred to by the appropriate name of "Pan-Halakhism"... Pan-Halakhism must be distinguished from the traditional Jewish belief in the comprehensiveness of Torah. It differs in two ways. 1) The Analytic concept of Torah is a far narrower one than that of earlier rabbis, or of the Hassidim. It is law in its most restrictive sense, the "four ells of Halakhah," which constitute Torah for most of the analysts... 2) As we have seen, the traditional belief in the infallibility and comprehensiveness of Torah did not imply mistrust of reason... Analytical Pan-Halakhism, however... is associated with the denigration of unaided human reason and a conviction, or at least a fear, that Reason and Revelation are contradictory. (pp. 227-228)

The second is Be-Torato Yehgeh by the late Rabbi Shimon Gershon Rosenberg (ShaGaR), published in 5769 under the editorship of Zohar Maor. Roughly two chapters of the book are devoted to AM. The following excerpts seem signally germane and are therefore reproduced here in English translation.

For the Brisk method of study a healthy human reason is not a prerequisite. Neither is experience in the topic of study nor any particular concept of values. On the contrary, it totally negates any idea of the Torah giving vent to a moral message. Human evaluations of morality are irrelevant to Torah discourse. Taking as his starting point the midrashic-zoharic statement "God looked into the Torah and created the world," R. Hayim of Brisk commented: Behold, the Torah's laws appear to accord with a proper functioning of society. Thus, murder and theft ... that the Torah prohibits are destructive of society and one might assume the reason for this prohibition to be the preservation of society. However, that assumption would be wrong. The opposite is true: only because it is written in the Torah "Thou shalt not kill" did murder turn into a destructive act. (p. 86; cf. Melakhim Omenayikh cited earlier)

In the first place, he [R. Hayim of Brisk] purified halakha of everything external to itself. According to his method, all psychologizing and historicizing must be rejected totally ... halakhic thought travels on its own unique track. Its laws and principles are not psychological-existential but rather ideal and normative like logic and mathematics. (p.118)

The above characterization of halakha agrees entirely with the formalistic Brisk method of learning: it is not our duty to understand but to define because Torah is mind divine [and] super-human. Whoever studies the halakhic lectures (shiurim) of the GRY"D [Gaon R. Yoseph Dov Soloveitchik, grandson and intellectual heir of R. Hayim] discovers that this approach describes also his halakhic discourse. This is what enables the GRY"D to continue with his Brisk method of learning and to ignore in his lectures all talmudic research as well as the historic aspect of halakha. The concept of the halakha as a norm without meaning-being derived from the supreme will and existing as an a priori, ideal entity-means that it is immune to all criticism whether value-based, historical or any other. This [concept of halakha] constitutes Orthodoxy's main line of defence against modern enlightenment and scholarship. (ibid.)

The penultimate sentence of this last quotation is among ShaGaR's most probing, inasmuch as it identifies the system's overarching objective which is to shield halakha-or rather its own model of halakha-from potential criticism "whether value-based, historical or any other." Of course, the greatest threat to the system is posed by Scripture and Talmud's ostensibly moral exhortations-which would explain the compulsion of so many AM apologists to neutralize those exhortations. Just imagine what would happen were Torah understood to have truth in mind when it demands emet; or to have injustice in mind when it proscribes every kind of avel. It would undermine the entire Analytic edifice.

At last the pieces were falling into place. It was indeed due to our preconceptions that the beMirmah homily had dismayed so many of us. Had we grown up on an AM diet, the homily might have seemed, at maximum, caricatural. But, for better or worse, our education left no room for the notion of a Torah ‘beyond good and evil'. We were not taught how to anesthetize scriptures such as Deuteronomy 4:8, let alone instructed so to do. Deuteronomy 4:8 reads "What great nation is there whose statutes and laws are righteous as is all this Torah which I am setting before you today?" The beMirmah homilist and his school, for whom the word righteousness denotes conformity to halakha, would presumably make this verse say, tautologously, that the Torah's laws and statutes are consonant with halakha-or else they would have to face the intolerable prospect of Torah recognizing, or worse still appealing to, righteousness as Rambam believed Deuteronomy 4:8 to be doing (see Guide 3:26).

But to be fair to AM, in its day theories challenging halakha (directly or indirectly) were on the march and had to be met. Even in innocent looking remarks there might lurk a latent threat. Take, for example, a famous passage from Benjamin Cardozo's essay Paradoxes of Legal Science. "When faced with a new situation," he wrote, "it is most tempting to maintain continuity merely by refusing to change the forms or formulas of the law. To think that is continuity is, however, sheer illusion. The similarity is verbal only; it no longer has the same relationship to reality-and cannot have the same function in society" (published in Selected Writings, p. 257). Cardozo obviously treats "the forms or formulas of the law" as subservient to a higher goal. Thus he declares himself a proponent of the teleological theory that allows one to view legal procedures as means to an end. And in the case of law the end is, presumably, the attainment of justice.
Transferred into a Jewish context, what would Cardozo say about a procedure such as migo (to pick a random example)? Would he retire it? Now migo literally means "since"; but in its technical sense denotes the rationale for believing someone who makes a modest claim before the court when a bigger claim could have been made without loss of credibility. The court figures "since" the claimant did not go great guns, chances are he/she is telling the truth. Hence migo is usually understood as a tool available to the courts in their pursuit of justice (for more on migo see Menachem Elon's Jewish Law, Vol. 2 p. 995). The problem arises when the general public learns of the migo. Because once that happens unscrupulous claimants, banking on judges believing a lesser claim, could be tempted to make that claim falsely. Such potential for manipulation must surely render the migo ineffective and therefore questionable for indiscriminate use, as noted by Asher Gulak (see Yesode haMishpat haIvri, Vol. 4, pp. 108-109). Needless to say, an extreme anti-teleological position would not allow considerations of migo's loss of efficacy to enter the picture, because migo is no more a means to an end than testimony itself. And remember, where there is no "end" or telos there is no "means" either; or put Jewishly, everything ordained by halakha is an end in itself. Only those who continue to esteem equity and justice as cornerstones of the Torah Revelation, as did our ancient sages, agonize over the robotic use of tactics such as migo-devised originally to further justice not to hinder it (cf. R. Samuel Uceda's Midrash Shemuel to Avoth 1:1).

But then our sages of old did not disdain lidrosh ta‘ama dikra [to seek out the reason underlying, or implicit in, Scripture]. Admittedly, ta‘ama dikra is associated primarily with the tanna R. Shim‘on, but that is not to say other tannaim negated it. Indeed the Talmud (Sanhedrin 21a) shows R. Yehudah to have applied ta‘ama to the law prohibiting the king to multiply wives. R. Shim‘on merely carries it to greater lengths as demonstrated by R. Mordecai ben Hillel Ha-kohen (d. 1298): "How come Rabbah interprets the Torah's reason for imposing an oath upon the defendant who concedes part of the claim against him (B.Q. 107a) if nobody but R. Shim‘on seeks out the reasons underlying Scripture? The answer is that anything surprising, such as the oath taken on a partial confession, elicits ta‘ama on all sides. Another example may be seen in tractate Sotah (3a), where the reason proposed for a single witness sufficing in the case of sotah is universally adopted; likewise the reason given at Sanhedrin 76b for the omission of the word yad in connection with metal" (Mordecai to B. Q. para. 138. See also Melo ha-Ro‘im by R. Jacob Sebi Jolles, Zolkiew 1838 part 2, folios 9b-10b; Warsaw ed. 1911 [reprint NY 1962] pp. 298-301).

AM, on the other hand, abjures ta‘ama as a dynamic for accessing Torah. Of course, its teleological character must render ta‘ama anathema to any full-fledged DCT. However, Jewish constructs of DCT cannot ignore the Talmud's invocation of ta‘ama. But AM, undaunted, explains away ta‘ama's talmudic presence no less deftly that it does other teleological indicators that rear their menacing heads in our canonical sources. Ta‘ama in the Talmud belongs to the original fabric of Torah itself and, as such, is inimitable and certainly unavailable for use by mere mortals.

The question ‘why' leads to the search for meaning-something that the lamdan [one who applies lomdus, i.e. Lithuanian-stlyle methodology, to sacred texts] avoids like fire. Any attempt to look for meaning is doubly insidious. For one thing, such attempts would eliminate the infinite chasm that exists between Torah and ourselves. (When asked how come the gemara does not hold back from inquiring into ta‘ama dikra, R. Hayim replied that the gemara is itself Torah. But for us such inquiry is entirely precluded.) Secondly, looking for meaning is an attack on halakha's status as a system hermetically sealed against everything extrinsic to it. The dread of infringing on this absoluteness is what impelled R. Hayim to say that it is not for us to solve kushiot [difficulties arising from apparent contradictions within the Talmud etc.] but rather to demonstrate that there are no kushiot to begin with. For there must never be a situation, even momentary, when the Torah's impeccability is in doubt. (Be-Torato Yehgeh, p. 84)

Once on the eve of Succoth a guest returned to his hotel with a large and beautiful etrog. He asked the management for the safest spot to keep it, explaining that an etrog is a delicate fruit and its steeple-like protruberance or style (pittom) even more so. Indeed, so vital is the style, he continued, that were it to get damaged all would be lost. Some conscientious personnel began to worry lest the maintenance or cleaning crew knock it when they go into the etrog owner's room. So they nipped off the pittom from the etrog, wrapped it carefully and locked it away in the safe.

Insofar as it drives a wedge between halakha and the rest of Torah, one has to wonder whether Brisk's well-intentioned and ambitious apologetic has been worth the prodigious cost.

Esther Lapian is a teacher and teacher educator in the field of Bible studies and the teaching of Jewish texts. She works extensively in Israel and abroad as a consultant to Jewish educational organizations from every religious sector. She recently opened a private educational consulting service called Paces, aimed at "walking parents through the paces" of educational challenges presented by the Israeli school system.She made Aliyah from the United States in 1987. This article originally appeared in Hebrew, in De'ot, the magazine of Ne'emanei Torah vaAvodah, no. 42, May 2009, and has been translated into English by Sarah Nadav. This article appears in issue 7 of Conversations, the journal of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals.
During the past several years as an educator in the fields of Tanakh and Jewish studies, I have come across a prevalent and disturbing phenomenon: most of the religiously observant student teachers whom I have met are not at all interested in teaching in the mamlakhti-dati school system (the religious public school system in Israel). When the time comes for them to decide on a professional placement, they apply to secular schools, or to the new model of specialized dati-hiloni schools (religious/secular schools), or to pluralistic religious schools. Several years ago, as the head of the Tanakh department of such an experimental dati-hiloni high school, I found that more than half of the Jewish studies faculty was comprised of incredibly dedicated and talented religious young people. When I asked them to describe the thought process that brought them to an experimental framework, (in our case, a particularly demanding one), the majority of them admitted to never having even considered Mamad (religious public school system) as a professional option, for reasons that will be discussed in this paper. Some had tried to teach in the Mamad system and had given up.

Why is this true? Why are these bright, highly motivated, religiously observant young people, who are extremely knowledgeable in both Jewish and general studies, opting out of the mamlakhti-dati school system? And if they are opting out, then who is teaching our children?

In this article I would like to address these questions by relating several stories that reflect the changes that are taking place in the Mamad schools and in the teachers colleges. I want to examine how and why these changes, which are occurring in both the formal and informal frameworks of the Mamad, are alienating many young, committed and engaged religious student teachers out of its educational system. In addition, I would like to suggest conceptual and practical changes to improve an ever worsening situation.

Observations from the Field: Primary School

A Story about Matisse

When our daughter was in fifth grade at the local Mamad (religious public school), she decided to do her personal project on Matisse. We went to do research at the Israel Museum art library and spent several hours reading his biography and examining books of Matisse's paintings. Some weeks later I bumped into the teacher in the school hall, and couldn't resist asking her what she thought of my daughter's project. Well, she said hesitating, it was a bit skimpy. Skimpy?! I cried in disbelief. She's in fifth grade. She could have chosen "Water" or "Color" or "Why is the Sky Blue?" Instead she picked a difficult topic and handed in work she did herself. What do you mean by skimpy? Well, she said quietly, the truth is... I have never heard of Matisse.

After recovering from the sad implications of this story, we need to ask ourselves some hard questions: Why is a person with so little intellectual curiosity, or basic professional self-respect, hired to teach school children? Once hired, why are such teachers maintained?

The status of teacher knowledge in the secular primary schools is, unfortunately, not much better than that of the teachers in the Mamad system. It is unlikely, however, for a teacher in a secular school never to have heard of Matisse, implausible that she would not refer to an encyclopedia while grading her student's work, and inconceivable that she would look the student's parent directly in the eye and say: "I have never heard of Matisse."

Why are so many Mamad teachers like this, particularly--but not exclusively--in the younger grades? And why does a teacher in the Mamad system feel safe in doing this? The answers are not pleasant. One: Matisse was not Jewish. [In the eyes of the narrowly Orthodox] non-Jews don't count. Two: Matisse was an artist. Art is irrelevant. If the fifth grader's paper had been a biography of a great rabbinic sage, the teacher would certainly have done her homework. Three: Matisse painted nudes. Nudity is immodest and immodesty is the cardinal sin, greater than ignorance and intolerance (more on this later). In fact, the teacher had asked my daughter to remove one of Matisse's abstract line drawings of a nude from the paper. The principal insisted that it stay in. Poor Matisse, he never had a chance.

So why is this person permitted to teach our children?

The answer lies in the ever changing face of the Mamad teacher. Whereas once the Mamad teacher and principal were observant Jews who prided themselves on their abilty to combine love of Torah with love of all knowledge, today more and more Mamad teachers pride themselves on their insularity, and yes, their ignorance of all things not Jewish.

I would like to underscore this point with 3 stories from my recent experience in Mamad teachers colleges.
Observations from the Field of Teacher Training

Recently, I taught at a well-respected college for primary school educators, considered for years a pillar of dati leumi (religious Zionist) Judaism. For administrative reasons, the college hosts students from an influential hareidi -leumi midrasha (hareidi Zionist school) who pursue their B. ED at the college. They are excellent students, and their influence on the school is great-as are their demands.

Feminist Research

Early on in the semester, in a course on pedagogy, I referred to a research study by feminist scholars on a gender related educational issue. After class, some of the students approached to further discuss my conclusions, but questioned my reference to feminist scholarship.

That night, I received a call from a faculty representative from the midrasha. His official job was liaison between the midrasha and the seminar; his unofficial job was to be a watchdog for religiosity. He asked that I meet him the next day in his office allotted to him by the college.

I was told the following: academic research is not important to us. Please avoid referring to it. Feminist research is anathema to us. If you happen to teach Tanakh, do not teach comparative parshanut a la Nechama Leibowitz. We don't evaluate the great parshanim (classic rabbinic Bible commentators) - they are all equally great. We don't compare and contrast. Who are we, after all?

A Trip to London

Wanting to prevent further such confrontations, I avoided all areas of controversy--not my natural inclination. During a class exercise demonstrating varying approaches to planning, I asked my students to plan a trip to London. I noticed one pair sitting and not working. I approached to ask if they needed help. The following conversation ensued.

We have never been to London.

OK, I said, make believe.

We don't want to go to London.

Ok. I said, (thinking perhaps that they were Anglophobic). How about Paris?

We don't want to go to Paris either.

OK. Where do you want to go?

They thought for a moment and said, To the Golan.

Literary Analysis

Soon after, I began teaching at another dati leumi College intended for junior high and high school educators, also a prominent institution in dati leumi education. The school was eager to develop into an Israeli model of Yeshiva University, a degree granting religious university. In this vein, the school held a half day conference on the topic of literary approaches to teaching Tanakh. All the presenters were religiously observant. I delivered a paper on the topic of thematic reading. When I returned to class, I found my normally compliant students up in arms. How could I apply literary tools to the reading of Tanakh? Tanakh is a sacred book, not literature. It is forbidden to apply literary text analysis to the Torah.

This was compartmentalization at its best. Literary analysis, a gentler cousin of Biblical criticism, has a way of unnerving some religious people. The students' instincts were right; this material is sensitive and troubling. But what struck me most was the fear, a near panic, at what they had heard, and a refusal to have a discussion. In a house of learning, the response to ideas that challenge our assumptions cannot be flight or fear. That is the hareidi way; it is not meant to be the approach of classical dati leumi education. In addition, these were students preparing for high school teaching. Certainly the day would come when one of their students would question them on this topic. What will their response be?

The colleges and students alluded to are not marginal or atypical. They serve as major feeders of teachers to the Mamad school system. Those students are the teachers of our children today.

What the above stories have in common is that they all reflect the growing influence of the hareidi ideologies on Mamad education via hareidi-leumi teachers and attitudes: lack of curiosity bordering on disdain for all things not Jewish; distrust of academia--even while earning an academic degree; distaste for feminism- even while benefiting from the contribution of feminist activism to the equality of women in the workplace; fear of critical thinking; refusal to recognize and grapple with issues of modernity and post-modernist humanist thought; extensive use of the advances of modern research in areas of medicine and technology, along with an unwillingness to admit or to acknowledge the central role of the university in bringing about these advances.

The hareidi-leumi worldview, while clearly one I do not share, has the right to its input into the religious and political discourse of the State of Israel. But the legitimate place for the dissemination of its values is within its own schools and communities. The dati leumi school system, once the pride and joy of the dati leumi world, is emptying at a frightening rate, because the liberal dati leumi establishment refuses to acknowledge that, despite a shared commitment to the observance of (certain) mitzvoth and to the state of Israel, what divides us is greater than what unites us.

On Sukkot 2005, Ne'emanei Torah V'Avodah hosted a joint conference with Edah[1], an American organization associated with religious Zionism and modern Orthodoxy.[2] In a keynote address, Rabbi Saul Berman delineated the major ideological issues on which the hareidi world and the modern Orthodox world differ: pluralism/tolerance, the religious meaning of Medinat Israel, Jew and Gentile, da'at Torah, Torah u'maddah, humrah, women in halakha, outreach, and activism. On the majority of the issues listed, the hareidi- leumi attitude is closer to the hareidi attitude than to the dati leumi attitude.[3] Aside from the approach towards the State, we differ on the central, most significant issues of modern Jewish life.

These ideological differences weigh heavily upon the young students with whom I have contact. Humanistic in their orientation and pluralist in their outlook, they do not want to teach in the Mamad schools, because they do not want to instill values that are not theirs. They all (women and men) have academic degrees, some in Bible and in Talmud, as well as in literature, history, music, and art. They embrace the world because it is awesome, and they are curious. They cannot teach honestly without alluding to all that they know, nor do they want to.

These dati students have been to China and India, some even to London! They believe Jews are special, but they don't believe that everyone else is devoid of values. They go to concerts, they know who Matisse is, and they know a thing or two about wine. The men know how to cook... and most of the women wear slacks.
They are rigorous in their thinking, but not rigid in their outlook. They struggle to find the interface--often through reexamination of religious sources--between the yeshiva/midrasha and the university, between Levinas and dati leumi, shiurim and shira, Carlbach and Kleinstein. Their challenge is to make these worlds overlap, not to compartmentalize them.

They represent the oft alluded line between dati and leumi, between modern and Orthodox. These are the students who should be teaching our children. Most of them will not.

The Dress Code

A disturbing corollary of hareidi- leumi influence that threatens the caliber of teachers in the dati leumi schools system is the growing obsession with the dress code relating to women. Part of the reason why the teacher in the Matisse story continues to teach in our schools is because she looks the part. She and hundreds like her are teaching in our schools, despite the fact that they may be inferior teachers, because her elbows are covered, her skirts are long, and in the case of married women, her head is covered.
Over the past 10-15 years, the dati-leumi establishment has become obsessed with the dress code of women. Prominent rabbis write outrageous articles measuring centimeters on the neck and on the arms. While the suitability of male teachers is measured in how much they know and the quality of their prayer, in the case of women, the skill of pious dressing can override the skills of good teaching.

Modesty is a significant tenet of Jewish life, but we have begun to lose all sense of proportion. When appearance is secondary to talent in a school system, the big losers are the children.

A case in point: Several years ago a new Dati Leumi academic school opened in our neighborhood to address the needs of our predominantly liberal dati-leumi population. Most of the parents, working people, professionals and academics, were eager for a superior local school for their children that could compete with excellent schools outside the neighborhood. The girls' school, however, was headed in a different direction. From its inception, it insisted that homeroom teachers wear head coverings at all times, that is, outside of school as well as in. All non- homeroom teachers, that is, art, history, math, were requested to wear a head covering in school, even if they didn't do so in their personal lives. Thus, with one swift religious stringency, the eagerly awaited alternative dati-leumi school committed to excellence, disqualified all outstanding religious teachers who didn't "look the look."[4] While the boys' school, instituted at the same time, searched for the "best and the brightest," the girls' school front line concern was attire. Not only did the students have a dress code, so did the teachers.

It is not within the scope of this paper to discuss the halakhic ins and outs of these dress demands. The point of emphasis here is that this stringent dress code does not reflect the norms or the values of the religiously observant parent body. The vast majority of the mothers in this school do not cover their hair and many wear slacks. At the opening ceremony of the school the number of mothers counted with head coverings was 10 out of 150! Thus the unstated message conveyed to girls is that their mothers are not qualified to be their religious role models.[5]

The ever increasing insistence on a dress code for teachers is another reasons my religious students avoid teaching in the Mamad system. It is important to note that some of my married dati students do in fact wear head coverings, but some do not. Some wear head coverings and slacks and want to continue to do so, not because they are rebellious, but because slacks are comfortable and efficient. These young women are halakhically committed, and halakhically informed, many are well versed in Talmudic texts. They know that the ban on slacks is a sociological issue, not a halakhic one , and that head covering has become the sociological equivalent of a kippah only recently. Graduates of midrashot and yeshivot, they spend countless hours examining the sources. Thoughtful and honest, they are looking for ways to be true to halakha and true to themselves.

Thus these young dati-leumi teachers opt for schools that will let them wear what feels comfortable, while retaining their personal sense of modesty; schools that will focus on their thinking abilities, their pedagogic skills, and their ability to touch the hearts and minds of their students. They are not going to the Mamad system.

Yet, aren't these the very teachers we want teaching in our schools?

Conclusion

The Mamad school system has lost its sense of identity; it is no longer responsive to the needs of its community. The vacuum created is being filled by ideologies that do not reflect the vision and the values of the majority of the pupils' homes and communities. By allowing vast hareidi leumi influence on our schools, we abrogate our responsibility to our own community. Not only are young teachers leaving the system, so are the children.

Talented teachers with a more embracing attitude to the modern world as well as to its challenges will find work elsewhere, in the secular public school system and in other frameworks mentioned in the opening of this paper. But who will teach the thousands of children from liberal dati leumi homes? For now, the majority of dati leumi parents are not looking for alternative frameworks, although with each passing year, more and more are doing so. They are still eager for a neighborhood school that reflects their combined commitment to Torah and general wisdom, in the broadest sense of the word.

In the final analysis, it is the teachers who make a school. In order for children to return to the Mamad system, we need to make spiritual room for the many talented young religious teachers who are grappling with the same issues as the families, teachers whose intricate approach to the world is similar to that of their students.

A Practical Suggestion for Change

The past few years has seen the development of several excellent academic programs throughout Israel which support promising young students financially in exchange for a commitment to teach Jewish studies in the religious public school system for a stipulated number of years. I would like to see the creation of similar programs that would prepare bright and motivated religious university students for teaching in the Mamad system. In exchange for tuition and financial support, perhaps by the religious branch of the Ministry of Education, as well as private donors committed to liberal religious values, they would be asked to commit to several years of teaching in the Mamad.

In addition to the regular courses in disciplinary knowledge and in pedagogy, there would be classes and workshops devoted to issues such as: the implications of the past 100 years' of Biblical research; recent Talmud research; issues related to women; national service; conflicts arising between Synagogue and State; democracy and Judaism; attitude toward non-religious Jews, and so much more. As of now, most of these issues are discussed only in informal youth programs like Gesher. Their place is in the schools.

In order to accomplish this, we need teachers who are not afraid.

There are many options for such a program of study, worthy of a separate paper. But in order for such a program to be effective, there needs to be more than specialized education for students. Just as the general public school system is reevaluating its attitude toward Jewish studies and therefore training teachers to spearhead that movement, so does the dati leumi school system need to do some serious self- reflection. Only then will they be able to bring back young dati teachers who think out of the box, who are committed to halakha and to academic research, who are rethinking old approaches--not rejecting them--who love children, love knowledge, and embrace the world.

[1] Edah was an organization "committed to... Modern Orthodoxy, which maintains a serious devotion to Torah and Halakhah while enjoying a mutually enriching relationship with the modern world."

[2] Closest Hebrew and Israeli equivalent: dati-leumi.

[3] The exceptions being: Medinat Israel, outreach and activism.

[4] The "other" girls' school this school was meant to compete with still retains the educational, and I contend, the religious edge. There is no demand for head coverings from the married teachers, including those who teach religious subjects.

[5] See "Hok ha'Kovah Koveiah," by Esther Lapian, an unpublished paper delivered at the Kolech Conference, 2006.

Maimonides, Spinoza and Us: Toward an Intellectually Vibrant Judaism
by
Rabbi Marc D. Angel

has been selected as a finalist of the

2009 NATIONAL JEWISH BOOK AWARD
in the category of
Scholarship

This book was selected after careful analysis by a panel of three judges who are all authorities in their field. The judges encountered a great deal of difficulty in making their decisions this year. Several categories offered many viable candidates, which made the selection even harder. It is gratifying to know there is a wide range of Jewish content books available. This book now joins the ranks of the hundreds of well-respected, classic Jewish books that have been National Jewish Book Award finalists. The National Jewish Book Awards, now in its 59th year, is the longest-running program of its kind in North America.

Copies of "Maimonides, Spinoza and Us" are available from the online store at www.jewishideas.org. Institute members receive a 20% discount. This book is not only a great addition to your home library, but will make an excellent gift.