Posts from the ‘General’ Category

Foreword, Winter 2012

WITH GRATITUDE TO HASHEM YISBARACH, and with appreciation to our many contributing writers, we are pleased to present this second issue of Klal Perspectives.

The response generated by our introductory issue was gratifying. Readers appreciated the introduction of a serious forum to address major issues confronting our community, and were pleased with the range of participants and their contributions. Many reported that the Journal stimulated thought and discussion amongst their family, friends and communities, and others shared and discussed the issues raised with their Rabbanim and Roshei Yeshiva. We hope that this response will continue through this and future issues.

Many constructive suggestions were submitted, which are welcome and appreciated. The concern perhaps most frequently expressed was whether these discussions will lead to practical solutions. We share this concern and will continue encouraging our contributors to embrace the difficult challenge of proposing such solutions. Discussion alone often leads to renewed creativity and thought, and the submissions in these pages may prove to serve as such a trigger.

The current issue is devoted to the 21st-Century Orthodox family, with a specific focus on the changes created by the increased presence of women in the workplace. This is, of course, but one of many factors affecting the contemporary family dynamic, and one which is approached and addressed very differently along the spectrum of our intended readership. As such, in preparing this issue, we sought the participation of researchers, professionals, educators, rabbis and rebbetzins from a variety of backgrounds.  We are grateful to the contributing writers for the time, effort and thought they invested in opening this discussion.  We are hopeful that as the discussion progresses we will hear from an even broader representation of our community.

The articles presented in this issue are intended only as the beginning of a discussion on this important subject. Readers are encouraged to add to the discussion by submitting articles and letters, and by sharing the Journal with leaders who could add meaningfully to the conversation.

We close by reiterating our hope that the discussion in these pages will always represent a sincere effort to identify the truth of מה ד’ אלקיך שואל מעמך , what Hashem seeks of us, and with the prayer we are all to recite as we enter the bais hamedrash:

We close with the prayer we are all to recite as we enter the Bais haMedrash:

יהי רצון מלפניך ה’ אלקי ואלקי אבותי שלא אכשל בדבר הלכה וישמחו בי חבירי ושלא אומר על טהור טמא ועל טמא טהור ולא על המותר אסור ולא על האסור מותר ולא יכשלו חבירי בדבר הלכה ואשמח בהן גל עיני ואביטה נפלאות מתורתך

Rabbi Gedaliah Weinberger

The Battle for the Jewish Soul

Orthodox society, both as individuals and as a community, must deal with a great many challenges.  These include: the high cost of Torah education, earning a livelihood, while simultaneously being dedicated to Torah and Mitzvos, learning-disabled children, children turned off to learning, the shidduch crisis, the rising divorce rate, the high cost of the frum lifestyle, etc. These challenges create a high level of stress on many members of our society.  Addressing these issues will require communal will and dedication. But with sufficient determination and commitment, these challenges can be met.

For example, when our community began to fully understand the requirements of special needs children, we created special schools and programs to accommodate them. We lobbied government to provide equal assistance to that granted to students attending public schools and created community-based programs to assure that all children are given access to available services. The impact of these measures on the children and their families has been extraordinary.

There is one fundamental challenge, however, for which the solution is far from evident:  shaping the Jewish soul.  This challenge is at the core of many issues that face us. We seek to create a Torah community based on Torah-committed Jews who think, feel and act in ways that are ne’eman laShem ule’soroso—in consonance with Hashem’s will and His Torah.  Such Jews must possess a Torah consciousness and perspective regarding all that they view and everything that they do. An adult Jew should view the world and act within it, not out of coercion, but as a natural, instinctive consequence of deeply felt belief and commitment.

We no longer live in splendid, Torah-based isolation.  The influence of the broader world, with its corrupt morals, false goals and twisted views of the “good life,” seeps into our world inexorably and stealthily.  That influence affects both children and adults within the community. How can we remain immune?

Immunity from the influences of the world requires simchas hachaim, true satisfaction with one’s self and one’s life.  The individual who lives with joy does not look to outside sources for pleasure and satisfaction—it is within him, a part of his psyche that needs no replacement or supplement.  Those who are truly happy with themselves are happy with their community and happy with their G-d.  No void exists that must be filled with external influences. That is true for adults and even more so for our children.

Tragically, however, for many in our community, the Torah is but one of many lifestyle choices.  One can choose intimacy with the Ribono shel Olom or intimacy with a wide variety of beliefs and disbeliefs.  Intimacy with the Ribono shel Olom is hard to achieve and is not a natural outgrowth of the environment in which we live today.  The joy of Torah and the Torah way of life has never taken root in the hearts of many during their formative years, when the world outside offers so much to compete with it. They never gain the simchas hachaim needed to fortify and protect them throughout their lives.

Global connectivity brings the outside world into constant clash with Torah values.  When magazines and television and displays of immodesty in public were the problem, individual communities could isolate themselves from these influences.  But how does one insulate a child from a telephone or from an electronic game that some other child brings to camp?  Or from other children eager to share their new-found worlds with every potential friend they meet.

Contact with other Jews – even those with peyos, a large tallis katan and prominent black yarmulke – can carry the potential for withdrawing a step or two from the path of kedushah. Two Jews can look much alike, even pledge allegiance to the same rabbeim and leaders, and yet their souls can be totally different from one another. One may be unsatisfied or unfulfilled as a member of the Torah community. He thinks he needs something more and remains ready to commune with a fellow who is attracted to baser instincts, if only the opportunity arises.

Friends may no longer be people with whom you speak face to face; they are now electronic, virtual connections on a computer.  The ease with which immodesty can be accessed is mind-boggling compared to earlier generations.  Individuals become addicted to pornography, to texting, to social media.  Compare television of thirty, or even ten, years ago to television today.  Compare radio of that time with radio today.  Every car has a radio, and cars themselves have become the instruments of desire that can replace the quest for spirituality.

The largest opportunity for chillul Shabbos to a child today is not turning on a light bulb; it is texting one’s other “shomer Shabbos” friends.  Texting is a private affair—no one has to know.  The family may not own a television, and still television and far worse forms of entertainment are in the hands of the children.

Given these opportunities in youth, a Torah soul cannot develop, and joy in life cannot take hold.  Some children rebel openly.  But many others go along with society; they dress the part of a Torah Jew, they attend Torah schools, they frequent shuls and Torah lectures, but they do not possess a Torah soul.  It is just part of a habitual lifestyle, along with their other activities and thoughts of a decidedly non-Torah character.  They remain unfulfilled and unhappy, and are left to seek satisfaction outside the bounds of Torah.

The greatest threat to American Orthodoxy is the loss of souls in the midst of great communal growth.  There is a sad, but all too often true joke: “Er davent un der Ribono shel Olam”—he prays without the Ribono shel Olom; indeed, without involving Hashem in his prayer at all.

Our highest priority must be to provide every member of our community, children and adults alike, with the means to attain simchas hachaim. That is no easy task.

It will require a paradigm shift of major proportions, yet in can be achieved in stages. First, we must rethink our values, beginning with a modest shift from the material to the spiritual.  Each of us must strive to provide an example of a life led according to Torah values. That, in turn, will require stepping back from the whirlwind existence that has overtaken our lives. We will have to consider a restructuring of our educational institutions to assure every child an environment in which he feels cared for and valued. Happy children will be happy adults.  Happy adults will have happy children.

Instilling simchas hachaim is the critical battle of our times.  We need to arm ourselves to wage it.

 

Methodologies

Our connection to the Ribbono shel Olam, as individuals and a community, will always remain the chief priority of the Orthodox community. But the community faces many challenges of a practical nature, which would not disappear immediately, even if our spiritual connection were greatly strengthened, and it behooves us to consider our approach to addressing these challenges. We seek an overall methodology that can be applied to any communal challenge.

First and foremost, we must recognize the primary role played by Daas Torah, by the gedolei Torah, who are the einey haeidah, possessing both the view of the past and the vision of the future to guide us. Their ability to do so, however, depends on their being presented the issues in a way that provides them with the necessary informational and analytical basis to make decisions.

Often we approach issues in a distorted fashion. In particular, we are too quick to blame people for the travails they are experiencing – whether it be older singles, children floundering in school, or those having difficulty supporting their families. We tell the young single she is too picky, the floundering child that he is not trying hard enough, and the unemployed person that they are not taking the required steps to find a job. And so on, and so on.

Such accusations may be accurate in particular cases, but when the numbers of singles is in the hundreds or thousands it is no longer credible that all of them are too picky, or that large numbers of floundering children are just lazy, or that all those unemployed are not seeking employment actively enough.

In each of the foregoing examples, even a bit of empirical research would demonstrate that the “victims” reflect larger phenomena over which they have relatively little control as individuals. The shidduch crisis is caused primarily by the age gap between boys in our community marrying girls three or more years younger than them, on average. Many children are failing in school due to learning disabilities. The growing numbers of those struggling with parnassah cannot be separated from the perilous state of the national economy. And the large number of those who are employed but still struggling to make ends meet has a good deal to do with communal norms and the rising costs of an Orthodox life, including, first and foremost, educating our young.

In short, the solutions will have to be found at the communal level, and not through lecturing individuals on their failures. For instance, we have to do a better job of identifying learning disabilities at a younger age, in order to help students find the best way to compensate for them.

In all of these cases, the underlying facts must be investigated and revealed. Objectivity and reasoned analysis is needed in researching the causes of communal challenges. Hypotheses must be generated and then tested against the empirical findings.

Often well-meaning individuals believe that they know how to solve a problem. They base their solutions on intuition and little else. Although they mean well, their approaches are often doomed to failure, because they do not really understand the true causes of the problems they are trying to solve. This wastes both time and financial resources and precludes putting into place more effective responses.

In generating hypotheses, many different voices must be heard, and the issues must be examined from different perspectives. Creating a think tank, both to generate hypotheses and to test various approaches, would be an important step in the search for communal solutions. The syntheses of the viewpoints and perspectives represented by the diverse members would be valuable in generating possible approaches. In the end, a small number of possible approaches would likely emerge, and these, in turn, could be subjected to empirical verification.

Daas Torah is often called upon to deal with societal issues. But to do so the gedolim need accurate information. The proposed think tank is meant to provide input to decision-making by the gedolim, not as an alternative. The possible approaches that it presents will provide Daas Torah with the necessary information to render decisive decisions.

Group-generated hypotheses, which are either verified or refuted by empirical research, would be an important tool in a general framework of addressing societal challenges.

Rabbi Gedaliah Weinberger is the Chairman of the Board of Agudath Israel of America.

Rabbi Shneur Aisenstark

KEHILLOS YISRAEL: AN ESSENTIAL SOLUTION FOR OUR GENERATION

The suggested topic is to attempt to anticipate the challenges that will face the coming generation. However, I would humbly like to suggest that we must deal with the challenges of the present generation prior to setting our sights further. G-d willing, if we can try to solve these problems, the future may be completely different.

Today’s generation is faced with an array of difficult challenges, which are only becoming more pervasive, with no end in sight. The high cost of Jewish education, issues of parnossah, the shidduch crisis, a growing divorce rate, the internet, abuse, drop-out youth and adults at risk are unfortunately only some of them. To best plan for the future, we must seek to identify the underlying causes of these insidious problems and to tackle them head on.

I would suggest that one of the primary factors that contribute to all these problems is the extent to which our generation stresses materialism and the instant gratification of needs. Undoubtedly, these tendencies among our people come as a direct result of the influences of Western society, following the old adage “Azoi vi s’christlet zich, azoi yiddelt zich” – as the non-Jew behaves, so does the Yid.

But other than rabbanim giving speeches and writing articles that implore everyone to rise above these weaknesses, what can we do? Does anyone today have the power to make a difference in this area?

Ani ma’amin – I am wholeheartedly awaiting the coming of Moshiach, who will end our golus and establish a malchus of Torah. One of the primary characteristics of such a malchus  is that it has the authority and power to uphold Torah standards. It is only in this way that Klal Yisrael as a whole can maintain its exalted stature as a mamleches kohanim v’goy kadosh.

What is most lacking today is just such an authority that will be universally accepted, with Torah powers to manage traditional “kehillos” and to enforce a way of life that will control these problems. In other words, we need kehillos – community structures – that mimic the times of the Melech hamoshiach – the Messianic era.

Let me give you a few examples of why I feel that a strong religious kehilla can counterbalance the sinister influence of our society and the need to strive for “the best available” watch, shaitel, shoes, etc.

Prices of esrogim have become outrageous. Kollel families who are living on a limited budget and even middle class earners have been known to purchase esrogim which can cost between $400 and $500 because of their desire to beautify and enhance the mitzvah. Rabbi Moshe Heineman, shlit”a, the senior Rav of the Vaad Harabanim – and of the Jewish community – of Baltimore, put a cap and ceiling on every esrog sold in the city of Baltimore – and it worked. No esrog merchant could sell an esrog for more than the established price. The result was that more people could afford to buy the esrogim they wanted and the extra funds became available to them for other necessities.

The lifestyle which promotes the most expensive esrog, the most expensive shaitel, the need for designer clothing, the purchase of every new technological “chachke,” has unfortunately had a tremendous impact on Jewish education. As a small example, spending more than $50 for a pound of chabura matzohs, as did a close relative of mine with a large family, can only impact their ability to make tuition payments to the yeshivas and/or day schools. Paying such bills is no longer the priority. Food, clothing, housing, transportation, juggling credit card balances and the use of gmachs, free loans, are first on the list of priorities; tuition is put on the back burner.

Naturally, our schools cannot function without these monies. What happens then? If the schools cannot raise funds to cover the difference between the low tuition paid by most families and the amount they need to pay their teachers a decent living wage, the schools must depend on dedicated malachim, who are few and far between, or else resort to hiring second rate teachers, reducing much-needed services, and increasing class sizes. Our children are being cheated of their right to be well-educated and their right to reach their full potential.

A kehilla with strong Torah leadership that would tax its members according to their income, set salary scales and tuition guidelines and would even own the schools can be the solution we need in our present situation.

Another of the major problems found in the Orthodox community that is related to finances has been the expenditure of large sums of money in the making of a shidduch – from the gifts given to the chosson and the kallah by the respective families to the wedding and the establishment of the household. Many of our rabbinical leaders have tried to limit these expenses by issuing takonos  regarding every aspect of these expenses, such as the number of guests at the wedding, the menu, etc. Such takonos took root only in communities with very strong leadership and kehilla-type arrangements, such as various Chassidic courts.

A wealthy Chassid once came to his Rebbe in tears, begging to be able to invite additional guests to his daughter’s wedding beyond the amount allotted by the takonos. He explained that for business reasons he must invite them. The Rebbe answered that he gives him permission to do as he pleases as long as he acquires a new Rebbe for himself. The Rebbe understood that the takanos were established to counter the large and opulent weddings which have become the norm. We have lost sight of what the wedding is all about. It is simply for family and close friends to be mesameach choson v’kallah. It is not to keep up with the Joneses and end up paying for the simcha for many years.

The Rebbes also had the power to place a ceiling on the amount of money a young couple may pay for their first apartment. This provided a tremendous relief for the machatonim. Some Chassidic kehillos have established auxiliary communities outside of Yerushalayim and New York, so that affordable housing is available to newlyweds. As a result, we have seen the proliferation of many new communities where the challenge of earning sufficient parnossah to support a large Orthodox family is not as problematic. Again, this could only be achieved through strong leadership and kehilla type living even for non-Chassidic communities.

The Rebbe of Gur, the Lev Simcha, once realized that the cost of a spodik, the Polish shtreimel, was becoming prohibitive and as a result, announced that if the standard cost would increase beyond $400, he would remove his own.

When I was living in Mexico City, the local kehilla demanded payment of unpaid past dues from the children of a wealthy man before they would bury him in the Jewish cemetery. The dues were paid. I am not condoning this type of practice. I am only trying to describe the clout of a kehilla.

In addition to counteracting the influences of American society, a strong kehilla would enable us to be proactive as well in meeting the many needs within our communities. One model that is helpful to consider is the system of Jewish federations. Though not governed by Torah law, these organizations were created to centralize the fundraising and distribution needs for the general, local Jewish communities. In certain limited but important ways, these organizations reflect the focus of traditional kehillos which existed for so many centuries: taking responsibility for the whole city and not just one part of it.

I feel that the Orthodox Jewish community must work to reestablish city-wide kehillos which will centralize all aspects of Jewish life around Torah law on a stronger and broader basis. The many vaadei ha’ir (Jewish community councils) that exist presently, whose main tasks are often kashrus supervision, conversions and divorces, are insufficient.

One vital service provided by secular federations which we must provide as well is in the area of social-work. Social work is defined as an effort to improve the quality of life – and develop the potential – of individuals, families and communities within a society. It recognizes that many people need guidance and support from their community in order to lead happy and successful lives. While there are individual organizations that excel in specific areas, there are important needs that are not being met and there are an increasing number of people falling through the cracks.

We need a Torah-oriented, social-work service that will be available to the community to identify problems on both the community and individual level, address them early on, and maintain an open file while aggressively pursuing solutions. “Lo taamod al dam reyecha” should be its guiding principle. We are responsible for our brothers.

One of the great examples of the power of a kehilla existed in Germany. The Reform Movement, which began there, was spreading like wildfire to the point where there was very little Orthodoxy left in all of Germany. Into this void stepped Rabbi Shamshon Raphael Hirsch, zt”l, who created the “Austritt Gemeinde” – a secessionist movement and independent kehilla which recognized only Orthodox Judaism. Under his leadership, this kehilla was so strong that it was able to save Orthodoxy in Germany. The kehilla controlled every aspect of a Jew’s life from birth to death, spiritually and physically. It took care of the sick and the downtrodden, and the challenges of livelihood and education, among others. Such a kehilla, if established in our day and age, could certainly address the problems of drop-outs, adults at risk, deviant behavior etc. It could also put into place preventative measures for their control.

In order for our kehillos to have success in all of the areas mentioned, we would have to bridge the gaps within Orthodoxy itself to accommodate all kehillos from right to left. The man who hired the three young chassidishe Yeshiva students to transport and smuggle drugs into Japan by lying, bribing and duping them, is now free after a short incarceration. The boys languished in jail for years (though as of this writing, one is about to be freed) as a punishment for a crime they had no idea they were committing. This despicable perpetrator was part of the Satmar kehilla in Bnei Brak, which placed him in cherem, excommunicating him from all Satmar kehillos world-wide.

This will work in Satmar kehillos but what about the rest of us? Outside of Satmar, he can do what he wants. The rest of us are not even able to put into cherem a recalcitrant husband who keeps his wife an Agunah, refusing to give her a divorce for decades. An attempt to do so would not even be recognized by the shul down the block. Unfortunately, this example is prevalent and well known in all of our communities.

We must strive to create a strong, united rabbinic force which will encompass all Rabbonim, Rebbes, and Roshei HaYeshivos in all Orthodox congregations so they can work together to form a “united Torah kehillos network” which can meet the many common needs of our communities.

Having said all of this, I would not like the reader to think that I am living in a dream world, fooling myself that such kehillas can be created sooner rather than later. We must have Moshiach for strong, centralized kehillos to be fully implemented so that all of our problems will be addressed.

In the meantime, as mentioned previously, there are examples of unofficial kehillos that respond effectively to some of the religious and ordinary needs of its members. This success has been led by volunteers who have created chessed organizations, built orphanages, established homes for battered women, hatzoloh, loan funds, Tomchei Shabbos, Mesilla/job-training programs, kiruv programs, anti-missionary organizations – the list goes on an on. With the continued growth of the Orthodox community, these organizations will, IY”H, become stronger and stronger as the needs arise, and new ones will be established as well.

However, without unity and focus, we will not be able to fulfill all the needs that we must. Divisiveness and the tendency to sit in judgment of others are among the most serious obstacles that can prevent us from accomplishing our goals. But as our communities grow, our challenges grow, and there is no shortcut to overcoming them. Without the authority of an official kehilla, our leaders will not have the strength that is necessary to tackle the wide-ranging problems we face today.

 

Rabbi Shneur Aisenstark is t he Dean of Bais Yaakov Bnos Raizel Seminary of Montreal.

Foreword

It is with much hope that we present to the public this introductory issue of Klal Perspectives.

Hope – that this publication will generate productive and thoughtful discussion, as well as practical ideas, that will strengthen the Jewish People and the Torah;

Hope – that it will provide a healthy forum for diverse opinions and complementary perspectives, offered and argued with both passion and respect; and

Hope – that the discussion in these pages will always represent a sincere effort to identify the truth of מה ד’ אלקיך שואל מעמך, what Hashem seeks of us.

The goal of the journal is to provide the Torah community with a forum to address and debate the major issues confronting the community today, with an eye towards practical solutions. You can see more in our mission statement here. While we ourselves felt the need for such a forum, we were encouraged and energized by the enthusiastic responses of the many local and national leaders with whom we shared the idea.

In this introductory issue, we sought simply to frame the discussion. We asked our contributors three general questions (see Questions) that we felt would help set the agenda for subsequent issues, where we could more methodically and productively focus on specific challenges. Based on their responses, we intend to move forward initially with three issues dedicated to the following three critical topics:

Local and National Communal Leadership: Many analysts of communal challenges identify the absence of central leadership bodies as being a major handicap to addressing these challenges. The community’s institutional infrastructure is growing but without an overall strategic vision. In areas such as education, for example, the sense of community responsibility for its members is decreasing as more institutions are created for niche markets. Communal values and educational choices are increasingly driven by overwhelmingly powerful national grassroots trends. Given the state of Jewish unity, are there practical steps that can be taken to developing stronger and more centralized leadership, locally and nationally?

Connectedness: Arguably, one of the contributing factors to teenagers and adults dropping out of Jewish life is a lack of personal connection to Hashem, to the rabbis, and to the community. This seems to plague all parts of the Orthodox world, from modern Orthodox to Chassidic.  What tools – old and new – do we have to enable people to feel connected, spiritually and communally? How can we introduce these tools into our school and shul settings, both formally and informally?

The 21st Century Orthodox Family: The contemporary American Jewish community is experiencing a major change in the traditional marriage dynamic.  While the traditional Torah family structure anticipates the husband as the breadwinner and the wife as the homemaker and mother, both the husband’s and the wife’s roles have been altered by a variety of influences. These include the large number of young men who delay or discount playing the role of the family’s primary breadwinner and the concomitant call for women to support their husbands in Kollel, Chinuch or advanced education; the economic pressure on women of all ages to contribute financially to meeting basic family expenses, including tuition; and the interest of young women to assume roles outside the home. What are the consequences of this shift, and what can or should be done to address it?

Contributors to these issues will be solicited from a range of communal leaders. We invite your participation by sharing with us your thoughts, including signed letters to the editors and proposals for articles. We look forward to broadening the discussion to include many individuals without formal positions who have much to contribute and can offer different perspectives.

We close with the prayer we are all to recite as we enter the Bais haMedrash:

יהי רצון מלפניך ה’ אלקי ואלקי אבותי שלא אכשל בדבר הלכה וישמחו בי חבירי ושלא אומר על טהור טמא ועל טמא טהור ולא על המותר אסור ולא על האסור מותר ולא יכשלו חבירי בדבר הלכה ואשמח בהן. גל עיני ואביטה נפלאות מתורתך

Yonoson Rosenblum

Torah Values in Tension

I’m writing from a slightly different perspective than the other contributors to the first issue of Klal Perspectives: I have had the advantage of seeing almost all the other contributions, and therefore feel free to content myself with making one small observation rather than trying to cover the full panoply of challenges facing American Orthodoxy in the coming decade. That is as it should be in that I do not live in America, and lack a full perspective on American Orthodoxy.

For a variety of reasons, even the most frank observers of the Orthodox community from within tend to describe the community in a sort of bifurcated fashion. First, they describe the community – e.g., its ideals, major institutions, and various subgroups – and then they describe the challenges facing the community. But rarely are those challenges placed in the context of the initial description, as outgrowths of the communal structure or ideals, for instance. Rather, they are treated as independent – as footnotes or qualifiers to the initial positive description.

It strikes me, however, that this approach does not reflect reality, and that the resultant lack of clarity constitutes an impediment to the search for solutions to communal problems or challenges. It would be both more honest and fruitful, in my opinion, to recognize that to some extent the challenges facing American Orthodoxy, or at least that segment of American Orthodoxy with which I am most familiar – the Lithuanian Chareidi community, are an outgrowth of tensions between different Torah values as well as between the communal ideal of long-term learning for every male and certain contemporary realities.

The post-War rebuilding of a world of Torah learning that was almost entirely wiped out is, in many respects, a miracle. When Rabbi Aharon Kotler, zt”l, in America, and the Chazon Ish, zt”l, in Eretz Yisrael, sought in the 1950s to plant the ideal of kollel learning, they did so in unfertile soil. Few, if any, imagined at that time the large numbers of those who would remain in full-time learning for decades. (In the Bais Medrash Elyon, the first kollel in America, stipends were limited to three years, and the budget allowed for only ten avreichim.) Nor could the quality of today’s Torah scholarship have been fully anticipated.

Unquestionably, the ideal of kollel learning has been the crucial factor in the building of a community centered around a passionate commitment to Torah learning. It would be foolhardy to imagine that we can just tinker a little bit with the ideal without any consequences in terms of the quality of Torah learning or communal self-definition. For that reason, no policy conclusions follow automatically from a description of the ways in which the ideal of long-term kollel learning for every male can come into tension with other Torah values.

It may well be that the preservation of the kollel ideal is judged by gedolei Yisroel to be so fundamental to the continued viability of the community that we must simply learn to live with the negative consequences, and seek only responses designed to ameliorate those consequences to the extent possible. In other words, the potential damage to the animating vision of the Chareidi community of a society based on a passionate connection to the study of Torah is so great that we dare not risk tampering with existing ideals or communal structures. In that context, however, it is worth noting that at no time since the dor deah has such a large percentage of the adult male population been involved in full-time Torah learning as today.

Let me suggest three areas in which our societal ideal is intertwined with challenges facing the Orthodox community: (1) with respect to relations between husbands and wives; (2) with respect to the challenges of parnassah facing an ever increasing percentage of families within the community; and (3) with respect to the problem of drop-outs from the community, including those who remain within but in an extremely disaffected state.

(1) The Torah anticipates that the husband will be the primary source of financial support in the home. It was Adam who was cursed that he would henceforth bring forth sustenance by the sweat of his brow, and it is the man who undertakes in the kesuba to support his wife. Moreover, our young women are constantly told throughout their years in school that their highest role is as a mother and source of stability in the home.

Yet the ideal of long-time learning necessitates, at least where there are not considerable parental resources available, that the wife will be the primary breadwinner in the early years of marriage – years which coincide with the primary child-bearing years. Women are being forced further and further afield from the Chareidi community in search of parnassah, with all the attendant dangers involved. In addition, many women are simply not up to the new tripartite role thrust upon them – wage earner, primary caregiver to her children, and a loving and caring wife.

In every class for chassanim I ever heard, the rav giving the shiur always emphasized how important it is for the wife to look up to her husband as a protector and source of security. Yet if one listens to the discussions of bochurim who have reached marriageable age, it is not uncommon to hear them discussing young women in terms of their father’s bankbook and/or their earning capacity – in other words, in terms of the young woman’s ability to provide for them and offer them the most unpressured life possible. In short, they are looking for a woman who offers them security.

At the very least, we are witnessing a partial inversion of traditional sexual roles, and it should not be surprising if there are negative consequences as a result. There are many ma’amarei Chazal warning of the dangers to the spiritual health of the home that result from too great an emphasis on money in choosing a life partner. Young women are not unaware of the emphasis on money in shidduchim, and that awareness can introduce an aspect in insecurity into the relationship. In the aforementioned chassan classes, the primary lesson is always how necessary it is for marital harmony that a wife feel beloved in her husband’s eyes. If she has cause to wonder whether it was really her father’s bank account that was the object of his attraction, her confidence in his love will be diminished.

When the wife is the primary breadwinner for many years after marriage, the potential exists for subtle changes in family dynamics. She will in many cases take on a much larger role in the allocation of family financial resources, and the children may view her as the parent to whom they turn when they want something.

None of the foregoing is meant to suggest that kollel couples do not, on average, enjoy the highest level of marital satisfaction of any population group. That is particularly true where the husband is learning with hasmoda, and has a feeling of constant growth and freshness in his learning, and where he shows his appreciation of his wife’s efforts to make that growth possible by helping around the house and lifting tasks from her shoulders that allow her more time with her children. The refinement of midos that comes from dedicated Torah study and the nature of the marital bond envisioned by the Torah should — and do — lead to happier families.

At the same time, it is widely recognized that divorce rates are rising in the Chareidi world as well, especially in the early years of marriage. The reasons for that rise are numerous, and their enumeration is far beyond this writer’s expertise. But it strikes me as not far-fetched to suggest that overburdened wives, the partial inversion of the traditional sexual roles defined by the Torah, and the overemphasis on money in the shidduchim process have each contributed.

(2) Parnassah ranks near the top of nearly every list of the challenges facing Orthodox Jewry in the coming decade. The cost of raising and providing for the education of a large family requires after-tax earnings many times the national average, and the burden is even greater when parents commit to the long-term support of their married children. (A proper empirical study of how Orthodox families meet these financial challenges would, in my view, be near the top of the list of needed research projects.)

While there are pockets of great affluence within the community, and many are able to meet the above described challenges, a rapidly growing percentage of the community faces considerable stress from the financial burdens upon it. These pressures have been greatly exacerbated by the sustained financial downturn.

Apart from the commitment to religious education and the pronatalism of the community, what does this stress have to do with societal ideals? The answer is that some form of secular education, including at the college level, is increasingly required for earning the kind of income required to sustain a large, Orthodox family. I am well aware that advanced secular education is neither a necessary nor sufficient condition for the attainment of great wealth. As a Satmar chassid, who offered me a ride from Brooklyn to Monsey, once told me, “Education is useful if you want to earn a living; it’s useless if you want to make [real] money.” We all know countless stories of illiterate immigrants who attained great wealth in America. And we all know many highly educated people who have struggled economically during the recent economic downturn. But, as the old saying goes, the plural of anecdotes is not data.

Many of those community members who have amassed the greatest fortunes have done so by utilizing highly leveraged investments. But such leveraging is inherently risky, and we have seen of late the danger for the community as a whole of a high percentage of communal wealth being generated from high-risk fields that are prone to dramatic bubbles followed by equally dramatic busts. Most of us lack either entrepreneurial skills, which can substitute for formal secular education, or the nerves of steel required to work in highly speculative and leveraged fields. For us, earning a living is the best we can hope for. And for that an education is, at the very least, helpful.

The catch here again is that the acquisition of a secular education runs smack against the ideal of long-term full-time learning. That is not to say that such an education cannot be attained after many years of learning – certainly there is no more rigorous, intellectual preparation than Gemara learning. It is worth noting, by way of example, that over 300 yungerleit in Lakewood have received CPA degrees in recent years, without having attained a secular, undergraduate degree. And they have done so with the blessing of the roshei yeshiva. There is an increasing number of formats for the acquisition of a secular education or of vocational training that permit one to continue learning both first and second seder in yeshiva.

But even these possibilities depend on having acquired at an earlier age basic literacy and numeracy. What we are witnessing today, however, is a growing disdain for those basic skills and a feeling on the part of young bochurim that their study constitutes bitul Torah to a degree largely absent from yeshiva high schools of twenty years ago.

(3) Many contributors to this forum have begun by noting the rapid growth of the Orthodox community over the last two or three generations, and that the difference between then and now is not merely one of size. Those who rallied to the banner of Rav Aharon Kotler, zt”l, in America, and the Chazon Ish, zt”l, in Israel, in the 1950s were a small, self-selected, highly motivated, and largely homogenous group. They might be described as an eidah. Today’s community is over a hundredfold larger, and inevitably consists of people of varied intellectual and spiritual levels. By and large, they were born into the community, as opposed to having chosen it for themselves. We have moved from an eidah to a tzibbur. And the question to be addressed is: Can the standards of a self-selected, elite group be imposed on a much larger, much more diverse public?

Many explanations have been offered for the drop-out phenomenon. Dysfunctional families, learning difficulties, the easy access to illicit material via the internet, and sexual abuse are all pointed to as the chief explanation by one or another expert in the field. I suspect that one or more of these factors is present in most cases of kids dropping out, though I’m not aware of any conclusive study that would determine which one is the most common factor.

But I’d like to add one other factor: a sense of being trapped or crushed by the society into which one is born. Two of the gedolei hador shared with me the view that the Chareidi communities in which conformity to communal norms is most tightly enforced are the ones that produce the highest number of drop-outs.

Human diversity is a fact of life of which Chazal were fully aware. Not everyone can be crammed into one box. Take, for instance, a young boy, who struggles to keep up in Gemara learning. One day, he asks his father what he will be when he grows up, and his father tells him that he will be a kollel yungerman, of course. Might that boy not feel trapped? Might he not feel that he has been doomed by his society to always feel himself to be a mediocrity at best and an utter failure at worst?

It could even be that he has the talent to eventually succeed in Gemara learning, but that his panic at being trapped prevents him from ever trying. That young boy may love much about his home and Torah life. He may even have been blessed with the personality to succeed in many areas and with exemplary midos. He might even enjoy learning for its own sake, if it were not, in his eyes, the only respectable model for spending the majority of his time as an adult. But to the extent that excellence in Gemara learning is held up as the sole respectable “occupation,” this boy is at greater risk of eventually dropping out of the community than need be.

 

One final point. A number of contributors have focused on the lack of communal structures. I’d like to just mention one area where the phenomenon is particularly evident: chinuch banim. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Gamla (Bava Basra 21a) established the first system of universal, public education, based on the principle that the education of our young is a communal function.

That ideal was largely maintained in the early days of Orthodox education in America. Torah Vodaath and Yeshivas Chaim Berlin may have been formally organized as semi-private institutions, with their own board of directors. But the former served the Williamsburg community and the latter Brownsville. It would have been very rare for anyone from the neighborhood being served by one of those yeshivos to be turned away. (Nor did they compete with one another for students – at least not in the days of Reb Shraga Feivel Mendlowitz.) The same remains true today in areas with large Chassidic populations: A child from that particular Chassidic group is very unlikely to be turned away at the door.

Yet today, many yeshivos and seminaries in large metropolitan areas are effectively owned by one individual or by a group of individuals. They serve the interests of the proprietor and perhaps those of the parent body at that moment in time. The problem, however, is that when chinuch institutions become a private business, just like fruit stands, there is too often no forum for the representation of the overall communal interests. In every major Orthodox center today, there are Jewish children who cannot find an institution that will accept them, and who are, as a consequence, left sitting at home at the start of the school year. This is a disgrace to the millennial legacy of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Gamla, and calls into question our right to refer to ourselves as a community at all.

Rabbi Yonoson Rosenblum is a columnist, author, biographer and lecturer.

Rabbi Yisroel Miller

Shtot Rav: An Impossible Dream?

The Great Torah movements of the modern era (e.g. Mussar, Beis Yaakov, Agudas Yisroel and Rav Hirsch’s Torah-im-Derech-Eretz) all arose in response to a widespread defection from Torah-observance among young people. In each case, the new movement gained acceptance only after a consensus was eventually reached that a crisis did, in fact, exist and that it demanded innovative responses.

Because of the apparent success of American Orthodoxy today, serious calls for spiritual renewal or innovation are ignored if not opposed, and suggestions that communal institutions are flawed or inadequate are often considered treasonous. That being so, these paragraphs do not necessarily seek to identify our principal spiritual challenges or what new communal structures are needed, since the time for that is not yet ripe. Instead, their focus is on those principal problems whose solutions and needed structures are today within the realm of possibility.

Question One: What do you see as the principal socio-economic and spiritual challenges (and the interplay between the two) facing American Orthodoxy over the next twenty years?

The rising cost of yeshiva and day school education is no secret in our communities, but less well-known is the full extent of its spiritual impact.  One example is the growing number of young married couples whose concern over tuition fees leads them to choose to have fewer children (yes, this is happening, even among parents who are graduates of our finest yeshivos and seminaries).  Another is the disillusioned yeshiva teacher who complains that “my yeshiva fooled me; they said that it is worth sacrificing luxuries in order to have a career in chinuch, but they never told me that I would be reduced to begging for tuition reductions for my own children, or that certain schools would be closed to them.”

Perhaps it is time to develop a full yeshiva ketana/Beis Yaakov program for online cyber schools, which would allow parents to home-school their children at minimal cost.  This might be combined with a traditional classroom led by a Rebbe/Morah for two or three hours a day, to strengthen skills and provide social interaction (including davening). Tuition fees would be only a fraction of what they are now.  Such an alternative would not appeal to most parents, but it would be a lifesaver for some (including some who are financially well-off but whose children do not do well with thirty students in a classroom); and knowing that alternatives exist would take the pressure off many young couples who worry about the future.

Question Two: What sort of empirical information, if any, would you consider crucial to proper communal planning and informed decision-making with regard to the challenges identified above?

Marvin Shick’s series of surveys of the American Jewish day school population (sponsored by the Avi Chai Foundation) have been very helpful, and it is hoped that the series will continue.  But there is so much more we need to know, such as:  How many of our children abandon Jewish observance, and what are the percentages in different communities (NY and “out-of-town”, Modern Orthodox and Chareidi)?  How many baalei teshuvah do we gain per year, and what percentage of them remains committed over time?  How many millions of charitable dollars are raised to help individuals who have been accused of crimes, and does such fund-raising reduce the number of dollars contributed to communal institutions?  In-depth studies to research underlying causes (e.g., the different reasons teen-agers abandon observance, and what leads many of them to come back) would be even better, but raw numbers alone can also be useful.

Question Three: What forms of new communal structure do you view as necessary to confront the coming challenges, and what can be done to bring them into existence?

In centuries past a town may have had many talmidei chachamim, perhaps a yeshiva with its own Rosh Hayeshiva, and a Dayan (judge) to answer questions in halacha.  But in addition, every community had an Av Bes Din or Shtot Rov, “the” Rabbi, who was responsible for upholding justice in the community according to the Torah, and who was given authority by the townspeople to do so.

Even today we have the examples of Chassidishe kehillos and the town of Gateshead, England, whose many independent Torah institutions are all accountable to the town’s Rav.  We don’t expect Flatbush or Monsey or Queens to appoint a Chief Rabbi any time soon; but the creation of a vaad, a rabbinic council comprised of leading talmidei chachamim in each community, meeting regularly and holding themselves responsible for their own community, is certainly possible.

Would we need separate vaadim for Modern Orthodox, Chasidic, and non-Chasidic chareidi groups living in the same neighborhood?  If that is necessary, there are precedents for having separate organized kehillos co-existing in the same city, each with its own schools and other institutions.  It was done in 16^th-century Italy, with Ashkenazic, Sephardic and Italian kehillos in the same town; in Dvinsk, with the Rogachover z.l. serving the Chassidim and Rav Meir Simcha z.l. the Lithuanians; and in Frankfurt-on-Main, with the IRG of Rav Breuer z.l. alongside a more “modern” group with its own Rav.  What is important is that every shul, yeshiva, school and charitable body in each group be clearly under the authority of a single Rav or vaad whose members have no personal stake in the institution, but who have the power and the responsibility to act as needed.

Item:  Some years ago, a highly respected Torah organization set up a beis din (Rabbinic court) to deal with employer-employee disputes in Torah schools.  A leader of the organization told me that the Beis Din was disbanded after one school refused to accept its decision, and the organization did not have sufficient backing to demand that its verdict be enforced.

Item:  The principal of a respected girls’ high school left to open her own school, taking students from her previous place of employment in mid-year and placing the first school in danger of imminent collapse.  The Rabbinic leadership of Torah Umesorah published a letter stating that the new school could not take students away from the old school in mid-year, and the letter was simply ignored, even by some talmidei chachamim whom parents asked about switching their children.  I am neither qualified nor interested in passing judgment on the rights and wrongs of the case, but the case illustrates the problem that the authority of our national Torah organizations is not accepted.

Item:  Allegations have been made that scandalous and criminal improprieties took place at a certain school that endangered the welfare of children, and that the school administration chose to ignore the problem and to deny that any problem existed.  It is further alleged that the situation was brought to the attention of several recognized Torah leaders who agreed that improprieties had occurred, but who felt powerless to act, and the situation went on unchanged for years, until it reached the newspapers and secular courts.  I don’t know if any of these allegations are true, but thousands of Jews (including Orthodox Jews) do believe they are true; and the enormous chillul Hashem, not to mention possible harm to innocent children, could have been avoided had there been a vaad acknowledged by the community as authorized (and expected!) to act.    

Item:  Many talmidei chachamim have criticized the proliferation of segulos, mitvza or semi-mitzva activities which are said to have supernatural power to help one make a living, find a mate or be blessed with good children.  Some of these are of questionable value, and many of them detract from the need to focus on teshuvah, tefilah, tzedakah (repentance, prayer and charity) and learning Torah instead of seeking a “quick fix”.  But without a recognized Shtot Rav or vaad, there is no one with the authority to say that these practices have no place in our community, beneficial as they may be in other communities elsewhere.

Item:  There have been several cases in which a respectable Orthodox rabbi published a book that was condemned, along with its author, in an open letter signed by several prominent talmidei chachamim.  In each case there were other talmidei chachamim who did not agree with the condemnation, and who were especially upset by the letters’ harsh tone of ad hominem attack.  But these other talmidei chachamim did not publish their views, because they had no official forum in which to do so, and they did not wish to be seen as creating machlokes with the first group.  But a recognized communal vaad would be such a forum, and the community would expect them to speak up, not to add to the controversy but to say that:  “With the greatest respect for those who published the letter, nevertheless, for our community, the following is the view we believe is most correct…”

Some critics of our community have written than Orthodox Jewry suffers from a “leadership crisis.” I don’t agree.  Instead, I would suggest that we suffer from a crisis in “followership.”

We have no Shtot Rav because lay people do not demand one, nor would they be likely to demand that his rulings be followed if we had one.  But if prominent talmidei chachamim in each community could create a vaad to become the recognized authority in that community, such a body might come to be accepted as the community’s leadership, which would in turn strengthen the sense of community as a whole.  There are many obstacles to creating such a Vaad, starting with establishing criteria for membership.  But as Rav Yisroel Salanter z.l. said, “If we have baalabatim like (the righteous) Kalba Savua, we will have leaders like Rabbi Akiva.”  Recognized leaders will emerge, if there is a clamor for them, and raising our individual voices is a step that all of us can take.

Rabbi Yisroel Miller is the Rav of Congregation House of Jacob – Mikveh Israel in Calgary, Alberta

Rabbi Ahron Lopiansky

Are We a Klal?

A person opened a small variety store and was very successful. He added products, expanded the store, hired a cashier or two and the store thrived. He was quite a talented young man with an intuitive sense of what customers wanted. He was most pleasant and amicable, he could run through a column of figures in his head, he put in eighteen-hour days and he knew everything that went on in the store. The two or three workers he had were nothing but extra hands to supplement his own.

One day, he became convinced that he should expand his store into a chain with many branches and divisions. He had seen people of lesser talent and mettle successfully head such corporations. “After all,” he reasoned. “If I could take my small store and enlarge it to ten times its size, then by the same token I can take one store and make ten stores out of it.”

A year later, his chain came crashing down and he learned a difficult lesson: running a corporation is very different from running a store. It is not simply a question of magnitude; rather, it is an entirely different sort of enterprise.

And now to the nimshal. Many of the writers in this forum (and possibly readers) grew up in the post-war years in America. The Charedi community was miniscule and insignificant, its continuity uncertain. The stature and vision of a handful of great men, the tenacious and heroic efforts of a few capable askanim, and an extraordinary amount of siyata d’shmaya produced in half a century an incredible tzibbur. It would seem to us that we are in for a whopping kal v’chomer: if we could do it when the cards were stacked against us, certainly we can do it today when we have such incredible resources and such a wonderful track record.

But the reasoning is as flawed as that of the fellow who tried to turn his mom and pop outfit into a national corporation. Our previous success cannot continue on its former terms because today’s operation is of an entirely different nature. The problems are not, in my opinion, a lack of midos or achdus, etc., but rather that there are inherent structural issues that we need to recognize if we are to perhaps rectify it to some degree. It may even be that the problems cannot be surmounted completely for reasons that I will try to sketch out, though there very well may be may be partial solutions.

Let us start by stating the problem as perceived: Once upon a time, we were a cohesive tzibbur in which gedolim were on top of everything, initiating necessary projects, and providing guidance and answers which were adhered to by an entire public. Today, despite all the success that we enjoy, we are a splintered group with no clarity of direction, with special-interest askanim pushing their own agendas and without a strong sense of a tzibbur following gedolim.

The real reason for this sense is that we have gone from a “kahal” to a “kahal goyim,” – from one fairly close-knit community to a multitude of communities. We are no longer the well-defined tzibbur we once were and this presents a new set of challenges that can be categorized as halachic, structural and attitudinal. Let us examine each of these and perhaps afterwards offer some sort of partial solution.

1] The first area is halachic. There is no halachic mechanism that can enforce the opinion of a majority on a minority without an “amidah l’din” of a beis din. When a beis din deals with monetary litigation, if two rabbanim rule a certain way, the third is obligated to support their opinion, no matter how wrong he thinks they are. In the days of the Sanhedrin, all issues of national significance were brought before them and their ruling obligated each and every one of them and all of Klal Yisrael. (Obviously, when there was a king, his dictates certainly obligated all of Klal Yisroel as well).

There is no Sanhedrin today, nor can there be, and no august forum can obligate its members in any way (other than in dinei mamonos). Thus, if there are 999 Rav Ahron Kotlers and one Satmar Rav, the one Satmar Rav is not only allowed but is actually obligated to speak out against all the others. This means that the only way that such a body can adopt binding decisions is through consensus, and the broader the group is, the slimmer the scope of that consensus can be.

Lest anyone bring proof from the early Agudah years in Europe, let us consider the following: Agudath Israel was never founded to deal with the internal issues of Klal Yisrael, but rather to present a unified front vis-à-vis the anti-religious camp and the anti-semitic governments of Eastern Europe. It was stipulated in its original foundation that “nahar nahar uphashtei” – each stream in Agudah was equally legitimate in its own internal affairs. The Gerrer chasid would not impose his views on the Yekke or vice versa. This meant that Agudath Israel would stand against anti-Torah forces with speeches, writings and government lobbying, but nothing else. True, Daf Hayomi was launched by Agudah but this was the unusual exception, not the rule.

In Israel, the Agudah (like the other Charedi parties) is a strong force only because the government is such an important player in Jewish religious life. The government funds a big part of Charedi religious activities but at time enacts laws that may or may not be favorable for Charedi Torah life. It is doubtful that anyone feels that Agudah is or should be a super-community of the Charedi world. For instance, the beis din and hechsher of Agudah in Israel faded to oblivion.

Agudas Yisroel in the early years in America was “kehilla size” in its numbers and scope. It was still an “everybody knows everybody” organization. It founded shuls, youth groups and camps. The vast majority of the subgroups of Agudah were too small and impoverished to establish these institutions, and thus Agudah was a kehilla of sorts.

2] The second issue is structural. This issue is most akin to the example of the Mom and Pop store. We are used to the idea of a Rav handling all shailos at all hours for everyone in town. He knows all the people and issues first hand. This might be ideal for an environment of hundreds or perhaps even a very few thousand families. But when we begin speaking of large numbers – in the tens and hundreds of thousands of people – this becomes impossible. A bureaucracy becomes absolutely necessary. But this is a structure for which we have no paradigm in our community or in our immediate collective memory. In the times of the Torah there were sarei alafim, sarei meos, etc. The kings had sarei tzavah, memunim, mufkadim, etc. How do we do this today? How does one organize an information gathering apparatus, or an hierarchy for asking shailos or for providing a means of enforcement?

Even Chasidim, who have a very cohesive sense of society and a very strong personal attachment to their Rebbe, tend to splinter as they become larger in number because they do not succeed in building an effective bureaucracy. And the ability of a single individual to relate personally to ever increasing numbers is limited (stories notwithstanding).

3] The third issue is the mindset of Klal Yisrael. There are nations whose essence seems to be the adoration of being a cog in a great machine. For instance, the Germans (ym”sh) and the Japanese both attained extraordinary achievements and conquests because of this national trait. They nearly conquered the world, and then rebounded after their devastating defeat because of it. Their attitude was that the sergeant’s orders are as important as the general’s. A stop sign is obeyed even if no one is around. When Nazis defended themselves by saying that “they were just following orders” it is not as farcical as it sounds to us. In their mindset, obeying orders was indeed of the highest moral magnitude.

Most of Klal Yisrael has a radically different mindset. We laugh at the Yekke’s infatuation with the law. Bureaucracy is an obstructive maze to be detoured by speaking to someone “really important.” The rules and regulations which create a semblance of order in society are seen as unreasonable and obstructive. Thus, very ehrlicher Yidden who are extraordinarily careful about gezeilah and pikuach nefesh think nothing about violating zoning or safety code regulations. It is part of our mindset – some of it stemming from positive attributes and some of it otherwise. But it is a mindset that makes it almost impossible to make the transition from yechidim to klal.

(An interesting corollary to the essential need for the attribute that turns the individual into part of a klal is to be found in the human body. Chazal have described the body as having 248 “evarim” and 365 “gidin.” The evarim are separately identifiable units of body – loosely translated as limbs or organs – while the gidin are the connective tissue, such as sinews, nerves and blood vessels. It is remarkable that there are one and a half times as many structural elements as substantial ones!)

It is fine and well to laugh snidely at the world around us with their “secretaries, appointments, committees, departments, meetings, etc.” and contrast it with the “one-man show” of a Rav. But if we are ever to transition from a shtiebel to a significant klal, we will have to buy into a “system” and not just into a person.

Let us pick a recent event to demonstrate some of these issues. A few weeks ago, an anonymous ad appeared in the Charedi press stating that someone went into R’ Chaim Kanievsky with a letter asking what should be done in light of the fact that Jews in America are suffering economically, people are dying young from many diseases and there is a big problem of children going off the derech. A copy of the letter is shown in the ad with the response of R’ Chaim Kanievesky penciled in: they should say Yom Kippur Katan.

At first glance, this ad is a very positive phenomenon: 1. An anonymous Yid in Klal Yisrael was terribly concerned about problems besetting our people; 2. He lives with the Torah’s exhortation not to take these things as random events, but rather as means to awaken us to teshuva; 3. He has emunas chachamim in gedolei Yisrael; 4. He personally paid to advertise in the press for zikui harabim. Also, R’ Chaim Kanievsky certainly is one of the gedolei hador and Yom Kippur Katan certainly is a time-honored method for hisorerus to teshuva. All these wonderful activities rolled into one advertisement!

Yet, a second and closer look will reveal so many of the issues that plague us:

1. What does it mean when a Yid from America goes directly to R’ Chaim to speak about the problems of America? Where is his Rav? Rebbe? Rosh Yeshiva? If they feel [for whatever reason] that nothing should be done, why is he overriding their decision? If the rabbanim themselves are in doubt, they might choose to ask R’ Chaim, but it is certainly not in the purview of that yachid to do so himself. Emunas chachamim is a wonderful attribute but when it is used to override local authority [which, as we shall see, is in many cases halachically mandated] it is destructive!

Imagine a bochur who feels that there is a problem of a lack of yiras shamayim, or there is a flaw in the derech halimud, in his yeshiva. He then sends a letter to R’ Chaim – not for personal instruction but on behalf of the yeshiva – and when R’ Chaim sends an answer the bochur posts it on the bulletin board! Would anyone approve of what this bochur has done?

2. The evaluation that the crisis needs to be addressed through extraordinary means is an issue within itself. The source for the response to crisis is in Meseches Taanis, where the institution of taanis with its tefilos and seder hayom is discussed at length. One of the criteria for calling a taanis is the determination that an event is truly unusual: i.e., how many deaths in what period of time, location of animals attacking people, etc. Just like we don’t say Hallel about commonly occurring events of nature – even though they are no less works of Hashem than so-called “miracles” – so too, the common tragedies of the human condition do not warrant taanis; rather, it is the “unnatural” which has halachic guidelines.

This means that unless we live in a very small community, we must have some statistical tools at hand. The anecdotal observations and common remarks of “we never ever heard of so many cholim; what’s happening to us” are noble sentiments, but poor in facts. Are the deaths of young people tragedies? Of course! Terrible ones! But when does the number become “uncommon”? I went to school in the sixties and there were quite a few yesomim, rch”l, in school. The only way to determine if our situation is unnatural is by having some statistics at our disposal.

And what about chinuch? Yes, we see many children at risk, rch”l. Not even one neshama should be lost. But to say that the situation needs procedures such as taanis requires evaluation. If we have a thousand kids in yeshiva, then ten of them represent 1%. If we have ten thousand kids in schools, then one hundred are 1%, and so on. In Eretz Yisroel there are 150,000 students registered in Chareidi schools and kollelim. And this is besides the ones who don’t take money from the government. That means that 1,500 (!) people who left religion represent one percent. Of course each child is a churban. But would a one-percent failure rate be an “unnatural” episode? These children are highly visible and justifiably cause us great distress. But it should be classified as it really is. [Even dealing with the crisis itself, we are desperate for statistics. Is the system broken to the point that it should be completely overhauled or is it wonderful with a 97-99% success rate?]

This shoel gave R’ Chaim a “fact” and asked for a psak. If I think that a lulav is crooked and I ask a shayla, “is a crooked lulav kosher?” what do you think the psak will be?

3. In the seder of taanis, the elders meet and discuss the issues facing the community. Had leaders of the community posed the question, they might have concluded “we think that the issues facing our community are x, y and z” and asked R’ Chaim what they should focus on. The problem with this “Yom Kippur Katan” reply is that an opportunity to address important issues is being substituted with something generic because no other information was given.

4. The posting of a public notice anonymously is disturbing. It is absolutely false to state that “R’ Chaim Kanievsky told American Jewry to practice Yom Kippur Katan because of all the tzaros that have beset them.” He responded to a personal shoel and to him only. Its public posting is a projected distortion, good intentions notwithstanding.

The entire issue seems to demonstrate so vividly the words of the Kuzari (2, 29). The king of the Khazars asks the rabbi (hachaver), “If what you say is correct (i.e., that the Beis Hamikdash is the heart and mind of Klal Yisrael), then the Israeli nation today is like a body without a heart or mind,” to which he replies, “It is even worse than that. We are like limbs strewn about.” R’ Yehuda Halevi is thus describing the condition of Israel as being pieces with no connections. The eivarim exist, but the giddin have unraveled.

Is there anything we can do, or are we doomed to this particular curse of golus until the day Mashiach comes? Will our numerical increases create exponential fragmentation, chas v’shalom?

Chazal have given us a tool for some level of community and that is “bnei ha’ir.” A local community has substantial powers of self-jurisdiction.  In Choshen Mishpat (163) we have an extensive enumeration of many of these sweeping powers. On the level of issur v’heter, the Shach, in his hanhagos of hora’a #10, describes in sharp words how a town’s beis din must always come to a uniform decision regarding all halachos (see also Pri Chadash O”C 496:11 regarding powers of the local posek).

The advantage of a much greater stress on fidelity to the kehilla and achdus on the community level is that halacha actually empowers the officials of the kehilla and that it is much easier to run an individual community without the need for a bureaucracy.

It does require, however, educating our children about the importance of listening to local manhigim and of the value of a strong and vibrant kehilla. Just as we taught a whole generation the meaning and value of gedolim, so too must we teach our children the concept of kehilla and of a Mara D’asra. We need to teach them the Rambam (Mamrim 1:4) which says “when the Beis Din Hagadol existed, there was no argument in Israel. If someone had a question, he would turn to the beis din of his town and ask them. If they knew, they would tell him. If not, the one with the query – together with the local beis din – would go up to the beis din at the entrance to the Temple Courtyard. If they knew, they would tell them; if not, they would all go to the Beis Din Hagadol.”

The Rambam is very clear that the appropriate way of asking is to go to one’s local beis din first, and only upon their volition, to move upwards through the ranks.

Furthermore, we must pick our local rabbinic leadership, not only on the basis of speaking ability, or particular issur v’heter psakim, but we must also look at the broader picture. We need to choose people who have the stature and wisdom to lead the community on broader issues as well.

I was at the k’nessiah gedolah of 1980 in Jerusalem. There was an evening when each of the members of the Moetzes addressed the attendees, offering a proposal for some sort of takkanah. Many of the gedolim offered proposals for new learning (e.g., daf yomi of Yerushalayim was introduced by the Gerrer Rebbe). R’ Shneur Kotler, zt”l, chose a very different issue to address. He said that many minyanim of bnei Torah (chanichei yeshivos) were starting and that it was very important to hire a Rav for each and every one of these minyanim. It was a most prescient observation. He knew that together with the tremendous beracha of bnei Torah forming shuls and communities comes the potential for the “kol haedah kulom kedoshim” attitude and for each and every mispallel running to a different gadol and presenting his version of an issue and reporting back with his version of an answer.

It is fascinating to note that R’ Ahron Kotler, zt”l, laid the foundation for the yechidim to become bnei Torah and that perhaps R’ Shneur’s prescient words are the foundation for those yechidim to become communities.

The idea of a stronger community cannot possibly address all of the issues facing Klal Yisrael – especially the broad issues. But is certainly a step in the direction of building a real klal and not just a mega-shtiebel.

Rabbi Ahron Lopiansky is Rosh Yeshiva of the Yeshiva Gedola of Greater Washington.

Rabbi Moshe Hauer

Cultivating Greatness

Together with the incredible growth that Orthodox Jewry has experienced in the last half century, a host of new challenges have developed, all of which need to be addressed with creative energy and concerted effort.  I would like to focus on one such challenge, perhaps least tangible but in my view most significant and overarching.  I will present the challenge first, then try to articulate how it has developed specifically as a result of this phenomenal growth, and finally suggest a framework for trying to address it.

The Challenge: A Jew whose life is defined by Torah should without a doubt be a model of goodness, responsibility, integrity and sensitivity – a great human being who is an ideal spouse, parent and child.  Yet it seems to me – admittedly without empirical data to support this contention – that while we may be ahead of the larger society on these fronts, we are not as ahead as we used to be, and the plethora of individual and familial issues we face indicate that we could certainly be doing better.  And we should be doing better.  This is what I would like to focus on: What can we do to produce greater people and stronger families?

I would like to suggest six consequences of our community’s phenomenal growth that have contributed to this challenge.

1. Trendy Religiosity: The greatness of the original Jew, Avraham, was born of him being an Ivri, someone who did his own thing, an iconoclast who did not simply go with the flow of his society.  Challenge develops character.  A half century ago, a Jew who chose to observe Shabbos, enroll children in a day school, cover hair, study in a Yeshiva or attend a daily shiur, was making a conscious, often heroic decision that had to overcome internal and external resistance.  Today, due to our burgeoning numbers and social strength, our community is filled with people for whom such decisions follow the path of least resistance.  This makes it less likely for our community to produce people of character.  This trend is reminiscent of Rabbi Meir Simcha of Dvinsk’s classic analysis of trends in Jewish history, where periods of destruction are followed by periods of heroic rebuilding, followed by the complacency of having “arrived” that leads in turn to another rupture (Meshech Chachma Vayikra 26:44).
2. The Insignificance of the Individual: The early history of developing Yeshivos and Day Schools in this country is replete with incidents of principals pleading with parents to allow their children to come to the school for token tuition, and of Meshulachim travelling to communities to not only raise funds but to find children that could perhaps be cajoled to pursue a yeshiva education.  The students were treasured and sought after, as a young man or woman interested in learning and living Judaism was a precious commodity. Now, with our large numbers, the tables have turned, and more often than not our educational institutions have to be convinced to accept students.  This is an attitudinal shift that continues even after they have been enrolled, such that the child may not feel all that treasured by his school, nor the adult by his community.  This shift has enormous impact on the level of engagement of individual Jews.
3. Communal Pressure: For all kinds of reasons, the larger the community grows the more individuality is replaced by conformity.  And every segment of our community is plagued by its own particular pressures to conform.  Whether in selecting a school or a home, in choosing a career or in choosing whether to pursue a career at all, in modes of dress or in the manner in which one celebrates a simcha, each segment of the Orthodox spectrum has norms that are pretty rigid and that are “religiously” adhered to by most of its members.  One of the inevitable by-products of performance under pressure from others is a feeling of disconnectedness and superficial engagement (see Yeshaya 29:13).  It is more than difficult to realize one’s personal potential and to experience satisfaction in an environment in which the individual’s unique strengths and circumstances are not recognized.
4. Materialism: Together with our community’s growth in numbers has come unprecedented prosperity.  And while the Orthodox community now faces its own version of the economic crisis, the patterns of consumption still match those of a highly prosperous society.  Every segment of the community seems to exhibit an excessive focus on beautiful homes, clothing, cars, food, and of course simchos.  This focus can only come at the expense of greater pursuits.
5. Secession and Segmenting:  Once upon a time, the serious question facing the small and struggling Orthodox communities was regarding the need for organizational affiliation with the non-Orthodox.  Today, with our dramatic growth in numbers, our communities regularly experience further and further segmenting even amongst the Orthodox, where groups of very specific orientation and belief are strong enough to create their own institutions and infrastructure and do not need to endure the negotiation and compromise that are part of the life of broader institutions. Instead of separate institutions within a community being b’di’eved, where working together is impossible, it becomes a lechatchila, allowing the institution to present its approach in the purest form.  This has produced an echo-chamber effect, where instead of our ideas being challenged by our peers and our perspectives broadened by relationships with those a bit different than us, we surround ourselves with the similar-minded, leading to a communal form of mutual reinforcement, for better and for worse.
6. The Limits of Local Leadership:  As the community has grown, local leadership – of shuls, schools and yeshivos – feel increasingly frustrated at their inability to effect change.  Whatever they would propose or wish to accomplish seems to clash head-on with super-strong national trends that their students or constituents feel they cannot resist.  And these national trends have a life of their own that no declaration of any known body of gedolim, rabbis, principals or lay leaders could or really would alter.

I think it is self-evident how these factors combine to create a situation where it is more challenging for our community to produce greater people and stronger families.  Given these significant realities, and the growing pains of our community, how can we respond and effect change?

Though there may not be an easy way to effect such change on a national scale, to coin a phrase – all change is local. We must take note that despite the disquieting broad trends, there are many shuls, classrooms and dining rooms all over the Jewish world where these challenges are being addressed.

We are blessed with scores of thoughtful and sensitive rabbis, teachers, leaders and parents who are keenly focused on the deepest values of Yiddishkeit, and who work consistently to make those in their orbit greater and deeper people.  They do it by positively emphasizing our core values through inspiring and engaging teaching, by challenging their students to find their individual way and by valuing them as individuals, by turning their attention from material self-indulgence to meaningful service, and by exposing them to the different strengths of various streams within the world of Torah observance. The Torah they teach does not allow those around them to discharge their responsibility with a superficial commitment, but requires a thoughtful and meaningful engagement.

This is meaningful but can be further strengthened, both for the sake of strengthening local agents of change and with an eye to reaching a tipping point, where these values can possibly come to dominate the mainstream.  By creating a national conversation on these matters, individuals focused on this type of growth can be inspired and strengthened by interacting with peers similarly motivated.  Such a national conversation can then potentially create a broader response, awakening the inherent desire for meaning that we all share.

I hope and pray that Klal Perspectives will be a step in that direction.

Rabbi Moshe Hauer is the Rav of Congregation Bnei Jacob Shaarei Zion in Baltimore, Maryland.

Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

The Paradox of Living Orthodox

In the next twenty years, I humbly submit that it will be paradoxically both easier than ever and harder than ever to be an Orthodox Jew.  Our communal strategy in response to this new reality will, in my opinion, determine in large part, the future well-being and success of American Orthodoxy.

On the one hand, every aspect of Jewish living has been rendered progressively easier, more comfortable and requiring of less sacrifice.  Endless varieties of kosher products are available in every supermarket in North America and beyond.  We have pop-up Sukkos and pre-packaged hadassim and aravos.  Gone are the days of preparing the menorah by filling small glasses with water and oil and placing a wick.  Today, we purchase complete Chanuka sets already pre-assembled and ready to use.  Endless potato recipes for Pesach have been replaced by kosher l’pesach bagels, cereal and pancakes.  No longer do mourners hurt their backs sitting on uncomfortable cardboard boxes for seven days.  Now, we have specially manufactured padded, leather arm chairs, designed specifically for sitting shiva.

Artscroll has revolutionized learning, making what were once closed texts accessible to the masses for study.  Bar Ilan, HebrewBooks.org and Otzar Ha’Chochma have provided anyone with an internet connection a Torah library with tens of thousands of volumes.  One can select from over 100,000 audio shiurim online, ranging in subject matter and delivered by a diverse range of speakers.

Looking for a list of the closest kosher restaurants including menus, directions and reviews? There is an app for that.  Looking for a list of minyanim within proximity to your exact location? There is an app for that. Want to know if a particular kosher symbol is reliable or exactly how to check broccoli for insects? There is an app for that.

One can safely predict that the next two decades will bring more inventions, devices, gadgets and programs to ease the observance of Torah and mitzvos.  As a result, fidelity to halacha will require less sacrifice, less compromise and less effort.

Yet, at the same time, living a richly spiritual and meaningful Jewish life that is inspired by an authentic sense of yiras shamayim and ahavas Hashem is growing increasingly more difficult and challenging.

The next twenty years will bring greater competition for our time and attention.  The very technological innovations that were designed to liberate us and free up our time have instead become addictive, diverting, and time consuming.   Overcoming the distraction of our gadgets to concentrate in davening, find quality time with our loved ones or learn Torah without interruption requires nearly heroic and superhuman effort.

The cost of living an observant lifestyle is oppressive, burdensome and often discouraging.   The price of Jewish education and kosher food demands working longer hours with greater effort, resulting in less time and diminished energy for family and spiritual pursuits.

Promiscuity and seductive imagery abound on billboards, subways, busses, TV, magazines and the web, enticing even the most modest observers to gaze.  Infidelity and divorce rates are on the rise, with growing dysfunction in the family unit.

On the surface, the statistics among Orthodox communities are promising and worth celebrating.  We have record enrollment in Jewish day schools, more young men learning Torah full time than ever before in our history, and vibrant and dynamic Orthodox communities across the United States.

And yet, if we are willing to scratch beneath the surface, I believe we will find increasingly the rote performance of mitzvos, which are practically devoid of meaning, purpose and enthusiasm.  Yes – more people than ever are attending daily minyan. But have the quality of our prayers improved?  True – attendance at daf yomi is impressive, and yeshivos and kollelim are overflowing. But are we collectively better informed and are we producing more talmidei chachamim?

Is all of the vigilance and scrupulousness in observance of Halacha, Torah learning, and davening attendance yielding more honest, kind, wholesome and good people?   If we compare an Orthodox community against one that is secular, would we measure a noticeably more ethical, moral and elevated people?

There is no population among whom the consequences of this paradox can be felt more profoundly than Orthodox teenagers.  An informal analysis will make unequivocally clear that despite our teenagers’ greater access to smart-boards, advanced curriculums, and rebbeim and teachers with whom they can relate, their struggle to find relevance in our sacred traditions and practices is greater than ever.

Many of our teenagers cannot overcome the urge to send text messages on Shabbos, despite their general commitment to its observance.  Meaningful tefillah experiences seem to be an anomaly for teens, many of whom don’t even go through the motions or even the outer appearances of participating in prayer.

As is widely discussed, the cost of Jewish day school tuition is becoming prohibitive.  It seems to me that the intersection of the socio-economic challenges with the spiritual apathy and complacency found among many of our teenagers will leave more and more parents wondering: why work so hard to pay for an education that will ultimately graduate an uninspired, perhaps non-fully-observant teenager?

To ensure that Orthodox Judaism doesn’t regress from the outstanding advancements made in the latter half of the twentieth century, I believe we will need to formulate meaningful responses to questions such as these:  How will we as a community provide an educational experience that is compelling, persuasive and clearly worth the effort and sacrifices necessary to afford it?  Are we willing to recognize the paradox of our Orthodox circumstance and seek new ways to inspire and motivate our youth?  Can we continue to embrace scrupulous observance of Halacha while shifting the emphasis of our message from ritual and rote to spiritual and uplifting?  Do we have the courage to communicate – and the tenacity to model – a lifestyle that includes sacrifice, effort and struggle, which are necessary ingredients for a life of meaning and purpose?

The answers to these questions are undoubtedly complicated, nuanced and varied depending on different communities, but one thing is blatantly clear to me.  The leadership of our people must actively set the agenda moving forward and no longer react responsively to whoever creates the loudest stir or commotion.  If Orthodox Judaism is to not only survive but thrive and flourish, we must strategize and plan for how we will confront our modern paradoxical circumstances and their particular challenges and trials.  We cannot afford to be distracted by the crises of the moment, which are often manufactured by individuals seeking to hijack our community agenda.

To succeed in advancing a positive and uplifting religious, Jewish experience, we must remain vigilant in evaluating every innovation and change and seek to anticipate its’ potential long term impact and influence.  If we want our children and grandchildren to be imbued with the memories of building a sukkah, making matzah balls from scratch, preparing the menorah or selecting hadassim and aravos, perhaps we were too quick to embrace the commercialization and mass production of these mitzvos.  If we want to retain the capacity to connect through prayer, perhaps we were hasty in embracing technology’s ability to keep us connected at all times and in all places without building in provisions and regulations to shut down and disconnect.

While daily Jewish living demands the overwhelming bulk of communal resources, from schools, shuls, kollelim, chesed organizations and more, I believe we would be remiss and short-sighted in not allocating both human and financial capital to addressing the questions I raise above.  With changes occurring so rapidly, we cannot afford to remain in the micro, consistently in a responsive mode.   I believe that our community must spend time and energy looking at the macro.  Orthodox Jewish conferences and conventions should spend time not only zoomed in to the current challenges of the day, but should zoom out to address the larger trends and developments in the Orthodox Jewish community.

The contemporary paradox of living Orthodox positions American Orthodox Jewry at a crossroads. If we allow momentum to carry us blindly, without embracing change judiciously, we run the risk of Judaism growing increasingly irrelevant and it failing to resonate, particularly with our youth.  If however, we proactively plan and set our communal agenda moving forward, we can not only preserve our magnificent heritage, tradition and past, but I believe we can be confident that the Jewish’s people’s best is yet to come.

Rabbi Efrem Goldberg is the Senior Rabbi of Boca Raton Synagogue.

Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein

In Praise of Diversity

Them: How many frum Jews does it take to change a light bulb?

Us: What’s change?

“It’s hard to make predictions – especially about the future.” Had Yogi Berra, who formulated that verbal gem, known more about Jewish history, he would have had no trouble predicting that Torah Jews will meet the challenges of today and beyond. They always have. Jews distinguished themselves for their resilience and resourcefulness. We survived whenever galus rocked and shook us. We sometimes thrived and flourished; sometimes we simply held on, refusing to loosen our grip on life and Yiddishkeit. HKBH thrust us into galus; He also equipped us with the wherewithal to deal with it. We have no reason to believe that the formula has been recently altered.

Why, then, are we so clueless about the present and petrified about the future? Perhaps because we have abandoned the most important gift Hashem gave us – the power of individual creative thinking, sometimes called the yiddishe kop. We have no creative solutions because we have too frequently deep-sixed creativity, stifled initiative, suppressed thinking out of the box. We have eviscerated our classic survival tools in favor of uniformity and discipline. We have stifled debate and the exchange of ideas through which solutions could come.

I have no grand solution to any one of the problems posed by this colloquium or the ones I added myself. I firmly believe, however, that we could be doing much better if the debate – the exchange of ideas which naturally occur in other communities – could take place more often in ours. New ideas eventually are proposed, germinate, are tried, fail, are tweaked, and eventually succeed. Some environments encourage the process; ours often discourages it. The problem that I contribute to our already impressive list is this: our resistance to change is too great a burden to bear. By now, this resistance is intertwined with the root of the problem, which is excessive pressure to conform.

Our first step has to be one of attitude. We need to make “change” at least a possibility, not a dirty word. Specifically, we need to turn the volume down on conformity, raise it on diversity, and alter the structure of community institutions to work with these changes.

Conformity has been both the boon and the bane of the growth of Orthodoxy in America. Upgrading the quality and quantity of exposure to unadulterated Torah certainly was the engine that pulled the train of Torah growth. But social pressure in areas of chinuch yeladim, dress, and kevias itim had great positive impact on the achshera dara to which we proudly point.

By now, however, we are aware of the price that it exacts. We saw that it worked, and we disregarded the ma’amar Chazal “tofasta merubah lo tofasta.” We kept our foot on its accelerator until we lost control of the machine. Making demands in more areas, making them more onerous, more restrictive and more limiting, has driven too many young people out of our fold. I am not suggesting that we sacrifice the positive power of social pressure. We just need to moderate it a bit.

The narrowness of our present system of pressures has also had the effect of stultifying thought. We encourage only a small group of interests and activities [1]. Even within Torah, we don’t encourage the free-ranging curiosity and inquiry that we used to. (If a young talmid chacham today had half the talent of the Netziv, would he think of writing a perush to the She’eltos? Would he have heard of the She’eltos? A relative of mine mentioned Moreh Nevuchim in a seminary class. The gifted morah, related to the Chazon Ish, assured her that no one learns Moreh Nevuchim today. Sadly, outside of YU and academic circles, she is probably correct. At a time that more and more people are asking critical questions, is it healthy that those they look up to are familiar with fewer answers?) We claim that we are a weaker generation, and that there is no time for Nach, or machshavah, or halachah. We only have time for shas, and we need people to devote themselves to it to the exclusion of all other things. Gedolim of the past read newspapers; they are banned in so many of our high schools and yeshivos – even the ones that don’t contain prurient material.

Our children grow up without the life experiences they used to have a generation ago that developed self-sufficiency and individuality. There is no time for them. Their teachers by now suffer the same limitations, and therefore cannot provide deep, thoughtful answers to good questions. So questions either go unanswered, or we fool ourselves into thinking that memorizing a kiruv FAQ substitutes for real thought. As we grow less capable of providing answers, we need more restrictions and more conformity to keep people in line. More people are driven away – especially as more of the ethos of freedom and entitlement seeps in from the surrounding culture, despite efforts to apply more restrictions. And the beat goes on.

One of the unintended consequences of the narrowing of choices is that thinking of the tzibbur as a whole is not on the radar of many people. We certainly promote chesed, but our experience with it is in myriad end-point applications – a worthwhile project here, a necessary intervention there. We don’t talk about responsibility for the tzibbur as a whole, except in terms of advancing limud Torah. Few people think in terms of steering the ship of Torah state, of bigger policy issues, or responding to major changes in the world around, or planning for the future. We have far more young people than a generation ago, yet Agudah and OU membership have not followed suit. Thinking about the fine work these organizations have always done is just not so high on the list of priorities of young people. Thinking about the bigger picture has to be taught, by instruction and by example. We are doing neither. Our young people aren’t reading about the issues of the moment, nor about how they were addressed in the past, save in the most simplistic terms. They are not rubbing shoulders with people who do, either. These items are not on the ever-narrowing list of things to do.

Conformity anathematizes diversity, and idolizes certainty. Both of these consequences are wreaking havoc upon us.

Certainty is wonderful – about things one should be certain of, like our ikarei emunah. Sounding certain about issues that are inherently unknowable – either because we don’t have the tools or because there is a legitimate difference of opinion that should not be ignored – makes us look foolish. It leads to cynicism, indifference or even rejection from people who are not so certain, and wonder whether the people writing the articles in the approved venues really have all the answers. The best way to deal with doubt and uncertainty is to validate it, and show that you can live with it. The worst way to deal with it is to create artificial certainty.

Certainty makes conformity easier. Speaking with certainty, one has an easier time of assuring masses of people that that they should listen up and obey.

Some people take this a step further. In order to lead others, they turn possibility into certainty, and certainty into exclusivity. Consciously or otherwise, they believe that if you cannot completely dismiss all other views, you cannot effectively advocate your position. How can you possibly influence other people, unless you show them that yours is not only the way, but the only way? So conformity produces – perhaps as an unintended by-product – a plethora of people who are sometimes apodictic, unyielding and doctrinaire – and proud of it! This takes a terrible toll on the peace of the community, creating discord, animosity and resentment between people and groups [2].

We have to demonstrate that you can advocate for a particular Torah position without deprecating others, and even without being certain. Our audience can accept that there may be different, legitimate points of view about important issues – all of them well within the limits of Torah acceptability. This does not lead to the conclusion that all opinions are valid, if arrived at by honest inquiry. We can still define the limits of Orthodox thinking to exclude what is completely foreign to the collective mesorah. Within those limits, there can be much room for difference, and no one need be certain about a given position in order to champion it. People can be passionate advocates of positions that resonate well within, and about which they have particular clarity. They can accept that Hashgachah itself arranged for their owning of individual perspectives, and expects them to be forceful spokespeople for them. The retzon Ha-Borei is that people speak with conviction and determination about emes as they see it. Those who need their message will find themselves within listening range; those who need a different perspective will find it by gravitating to others. They do not have to feel the need to shout down all competitors.

Conformity, however, does not take kindly to allowing for multiple voices. Too often, people are afraid to speak their minds, or even to ask questions, lest they be seen as different, or off, or strange. The prospects for shidduchim for their children will shrink. If they say something really novel, they may find themselves besieged by sanctimonious email and phone calls from well-intentioned but self-appointed protectors of public spiritual safety. Worse yet, they may not even get those messages, because people will prefer to speak about them behind their backs.

In the short run, all the problems that face us are exacerbated, because options that already exist are not utilized. Parents who recognize that their child may need a slightly different chinuch don’t buck the trend until it is too late, even though the modified educational experience already exists. Parents concerned about their children’s parnasah prospects don’t explore programs that might help them, for fear of not looking frum enough; the good shidduch possibility goes unexplored because something about the young man or young lady seems a tad….different. And we all know that different is bad.

In the long run, our infatuation with conformity drains the life-force out of our ability to respond to the dizzying assortment of new challenges coming our way. Moreover, conformity and its restrictions places us on a collision course with the cultural tsunami of change brought about by the Internet. We can pretend that what “they” do doesn’t affect us, but we would be lying to ourselves. Almost everyone we know is wired.

When Egyptians clamored to Paroh for food, he told them to go to Yosef, and abide by whatever he instructed them. According to Chazal, he demanded that they submit to bris milah. Why? Was he interested in converting them? Hardly, explained Rav Dessler. Yosef knew that his family and their progeny would have to survive as a minority in an alien culture. He understood that some cultural pressures are extremely difficult to resist. He wanted the Bnei Yisrael to hold on to the practice of milah, but recognized how difficult it would be if they were the only ones in all of Egypt to be marked in this manner. If non-Jewish Egyptians practiced circumcision, Jews would have a much easier time of it.

The Internet has yielded memes that will be bequeathed for generations to come, just as the Enlightenment did. One of them is resistance to top-down authority. The Internet has somewhat leveled the playing field, giving everyone a voice. If you have something to say that catches the fancy of enough people, you can become a person of influence. This democratization of power affects everyone with intoxicating freedom, even those who don’t have much to say. Old assumptions about who should speak and who should be silent are crumbling. Many of our institutions have operated until now as old-boys clubs or plutocracies. They will not last that way. For better or worse, the Internet and the new technologies are leaving people more connected, more knowledgeable, and more demanding of personal gratification. (Think of how easy it is to electronically manufacture your own world today, shutting out what you don’t want, and getting what you want – instantly.) Torah institutions will have to deal with these changing realities, in some form or other. Those that cannot be more transparent, more responsive and more participatory may have trouble surviving.

Nothing will be spared examination by this new spirit, not even such an essential institution as looking to our gedolim for leadership. All of us realize that we must see to it that their leadership survives and flourishes. Making this happen might require some small changes. The institution of daas Torah, BE”H, will stay strong; the style may shift a bit:

• In an increasingly complex world and a growing Torah community, the einei ha-eidah require an ever-increasing number of surrogate eyes. Changing the current system of gatekeepers and filters can allow input from a greater number of people, from different perspectives. This will be a win-win proposition for all around

• A mere few decades ago, everyone recognized that Israel was not America and America was not Israel. The gedolim in Israel refused to pronounce policy upon America, knowing that they could not evaluate local conditions thousands of miles away. This was consistent with what we find in the teshuvos of past centuries, where each region relied primarily on local luminaries for policy and halachic matters. For various reasons, after the petirah of Rav Moshe, zt”l, and Rav Yaakov, zt”l, people in America kept pushing reluctant gedolim in Israel until they relented. More and more questions went to gedolim in Israel; fewer decisions were made here. While so much of our life style and chinuch is different in the West, people insist on asking all questions, large and small, of gedolim in Israel. If we are to address the problems already upon us, and those we detect around the corner, we need to have the courage to untether America from complete dependence upon Israel, and seek hanhagah from gedolim closer to where we live.

Postscript

Theirs not to make reply,

Theirs not to reason why,

Theirs but to do and die.

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

(The Charge of the Light Brigade)

Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote those lines with mixed feelings of high regard for their loyalty and discipline on the one hand, and anger at their needless sacrifice on the other. We find ourselves in an analogous situation. Many people can no longer claim to follow all that the community prescribes without questioning why; those who can may be riding with their families into a valley of spiritual miasma for which they will pay too high a price. We need to lighten up a bit.

Conformity should not be wholly abandoned. Positive social pressure has done much good, and can continue to do so. It has to be tempered, however, with a respect for diversity of opinion that was a commonplace in the past.

Hopefully, more and more people will point to the mekoros in our mesorah for appreciating differences of opinion, not uniformity. (A good place to start would be Maharal’s Be’er Ha-Golah, 1st be’er, s.v. ve-amar ba’alei asufos.) They will begin sharing them once more with talmidim. In time, we might once again be able to write honest biographies and accurate history. Readers will learn of genuine chilukei de’os among gedolim of the past regarding important hashkafic issues.

Change will come about when the tzibbur starts acting on the premise that not everyone need look the same and act the same. BE”H, this publication, by bringing together different and sometimes clashing voices will hopefully make a contribution to the acceptability of diversity, which in turn will set free the creative spirit HKBH gave us to find solutions to many of our problems.

NOTES

[1] I recognize that almost all of the assumptions I make in this paper as declarative statements can be (and perhaps should be) challenged. This is an opinion piece, not a dissertation. I wish I could present hard data to support my contentions, or that others could present evidence to discredit them. I suppose that this is my response to the second of the three questions posed to all of us respondents. I cannot fully relate to the question. I can’t think of any question worth asking that would not benefit immensely from empirical research.

[1] See Netziv, Ha’amek Davar, Bamidbar 35:34 (in the Harchev Davar): “The first Bais HaMikdosh was destroyed because of illicit murder, just like the idolatry and gilui arayos [that were equally illicit.] The second Bais HaMikdosh was destroyed by licensed murder. They thought it was a mitzvah to kill their fellow, that he was a Sadducee or the like.”

Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein is the director of Interfaith Affairs for the Simon Wiesenthal Center, a professor of Jewish Law and Ethics at Loyola Law School and a Contributing Editor for Jewish Action Magazine.