Below is an old post I wrote from 2008 that appeared on both Little Frumhouse on the Prairie and Beyond BT.  In it, I wrote about how the key to keeping baal teshuvahs engaged  in orthodox observance is maintenance – essentially, ongoing kiruv.  Reading this in 2013, I can see how much my perspective has changed.  As an older baal teshuvah, I still believe that we need injections of inspiration and community support to remain happily engaged.  In fact, every orthodox person does.  We get these motivating injections in the form of our mentors/rabbis/rebbetzins, friendships, shiurim, conventions, Jewish self-help books, fund raisers highlighting philanthropic causes within our communities, etc.

However, I also see that for some people, the frum lifestyle just isn’t for them.  Though they have put in years of effort, they just can’t get comfortable.  I don’t believe in religious coercion, and while baal teshuvas, like myself, initially make their own choice to “drink the Kool-Aid,” sometimes the coercion comes after they’ve made the commitment to be religious.  After they have firmly wedged themselves into a new lifestyle and alienated all of their former secular connections.  After kids, finances, communal ties, and housing considerations make it almost impossible to leave.  In my article, I posit that those who leave the frum world can never truly be happy or satisfied with their decision, but I think I was internalizing how I would personally feel if I ever left.  Indeed, there are people who are happy, satisfied, and even relieved to leave orthodoxy behind.

Did I really see the orthodox world and its inhabitants through such a narrow lens?  Can’t people decide to lessen or change their level of religious observance and not have it viewed as a catastrophe, but rather, as a matter of personal choice?  What the heck has happened to me over the past few years?  Why do I disagree with myself, to the point that I would leave a nasty comment on my own blog, were I to have written it today?

The Key is Maintenance

This is a follow up post to my thoughts on the topic of why some BTs go off the derech. The crux of my theory is that sometimes people go off the derech not so much because they are unsatisfied with their frum lifestyle, but rather, because when life’s pressures become overwhelming we seek to go back to the familiar. This is true even when what was once familiar won’t make us happy today. Though we might have evolved into different people, we stubbornly seek out our old habits, while we conveniently forget the reasons why we changed our former lifestyle patterns in the first place.

As an example, an ex-smoker might feel momentary relief in a cigarette during a stressful moment, but the pain of addiction and fear of cancer will be a quick reminder of why they quit in the first place. The drag of a cigarette can never be as sweet as those first puffs taken in ignorance of the consequences. Additionally, there will also be the sting of personal failure ingested with each inhale. Similarly, imagine the frustrations of a chronic dieter who struggles to lose weight, reaches a modicum of success, only to give up the difficult fight and pack the pounds back on. These analogies illustrate why I believe that BTs who go off the derech are never truly satisfied with their choice to revert back to their former lives. I realize that I am likening becoming frum to overcoming an addiction. However, I believe that this diagnosis is correct for many of us.

I knew a boy in high school who was addicted to drugs (I’ll call him Bill). I didn’t really know Bill, except that he was in quite a few of my honors level classes. Bill was first caught with marijuana when we were in 9th grade. Instead of serving time in a juvenile penitentiary, he was sent to an inpatient drug rehab program. When Bill entered the program, his mother asked our Social Studies teacher if she could pick a handful of students, who she felt might be a good influence upon him, to exchange letters with him while he was in the program. The program encouraged the patients to cut off ties with all of their old cohorts and make a new group of friends who didn’t do drugs. Bill’s mother hoped that if he could establish a few friendships with other kids during his program stay, and know that he had new friends waiting for him upon his return to school, it might give him the incentive he needed to stay clean.

I was one of the people chosen to befriend Bill. I wrote him letters and he wrote back to me, grateful for the communication. He said he was ready to give up on drugs, and looked forward to coming back to school and forming new relationships with new friends. When he came back to school, he put his best foot forward. He was participating in class and sought out the company of those who had written to him. Eventually, his former associates started seeking out Bill, just to say howdy. Bill still liked his old friends, and the only problem he had with them was that they still used drugs. Bill decided that it couldn’t hurt to hang out with them, as long as he stuck to smoking cigarettes and not pot. Gradually, he began to skip classes to hang out with these buddies. The boundary drawn between smoking tobacco and weed became blurred and he was back to where he started. Bill’s new friendships faded fast. His single mom was broken-hearted. Bill dropped out of school in 11th grade. The last I heard about Bill was that he had been arrested for possession and selling of cocaine.

So, what went wrong for Bill? In the beginning, he had lots of support. He was in an inpatient program being monitored and given therapy 24/7. His mom was enlisted to help him on the homefront. His schoolmates were enlisted to support him on the peer front. Bill was responding positively to the support. However, after Bill was released from the program, his mom went back to her full-time job, his old friends came around again, and Bill slipped back into his old patterns. He alienated his new friends who did not approve of his drug-enhanced lifestyle. Bill knew he needed to change or he would go down a dangerous path, but he couldn’t stop himself from slipping into his familiar routine.

How does this relate to the BT who goes off the derech? I have seen similar patterns emerging from the kiruv movement to those that emerge from the rehab movement. When counseling secular Jews who are interested in becoming frum, all of the emphasis is placed on the induction process, and not the life cycle process. In the beginning, there is emphasis on providing proof of the divine existence of Hashem, learning about the rituals, experiencing Shabbos/YomTov, becoming socialized within the frum community, dealing with the secular family of origin (or not), connecting with a posek, and more. There is much communal delight to be mekareve a formerly frei yid. The community gets nachas from turning on the light for the formerly blind. However, light bulbs only have a certain life expectancy before they burn out. They must be replaced every so often to keep the lamps burning. This too, is the way of the BT.

Binyamin Klempner writes of the Bostoner Rebbe and Harav Michel Twerski, and their method of ongoing maintenance and kiruv for the BTs in their communities. In his post, there is an interesting quote from Rabbi Twerski’s son:

“In the words of Harav Benzion Twerski regarding keeping our baalei teshuvah strong, “maintenance is everything in kiruv.” When Harav Michel Twerski or the Bostoner Rebbe is mekarev a Yid, they are accepting upon themselves the lifelong commitment of helping not only the baal tshuvah who they are being mekarev, but that person’s children as well. This commitment includes helping baalei teshuvah attain the necessary level of knowledge required to function in the Torah observant world, helping with shidduchim, shalom bayis counseling, advising the couple as to what is expected of husband and wife in a Torah true home, what kind of chinuch is appropriate for their children, and even taking responsibility for their children’s shiduchim; in short, advising on every aspect of life throughout one’s life.”

There is wisdom in these words. Just as some people unsatisfied with their jobs seek relief by abruptly quitting or just as some unhappily married couples immediately file for divorce, such is the drastic decision of some BTs to go off the derech. How many BTs could be saved from leaving if there were support and programming to help with their doubts and frustrations? I have unsuccessfully tried to find information on the yearly percentage of people who become frum through various kiruv programs (if anyone has knowledge of such a study please let me know). However, whatever the percentage might be, an accurate portrayal would be to follow the study group through the years to see how many remain frum. The key is maintenance.

Despite my years of on and off blogging, I am still a relative amateur in the area of social media relations and communication.  The fallout from my recent posts has really caught me off guard and made me question how to proceed in the future without compromising my intellectual, emotional, and religious integrity.  What I am trying to wrap my head around, is how something I addressed in order to stop hateful speech from being spread in my community has inspired so much hateful speech both online and offline. While I want to protect my right to voice my opinion, I also want to protect the rights of those I might critique from being criticized beyond the content of their language or ideas – tangible concepts I believe I can fairly oppose without denouncing the person.

I remembered a story that my husband told me many years ago, and I hope he forgives me if I get some of the details wrong.

My husband has a best friend who used to live the next block over from us when we were first married.  They had a regular chavrusah together several times a week.  These are two men who love nothing better than a good intellectual debate, especially over a piece of Gemara.   One day they were having a rather loud discussion at the friend’s apartment.  That’s probably putting it mildly.  I can only imagine the loud voices, the gesticulating, the thumb dipping, the – dare I say – wild shuckling (that’s probably taking it too far) that took place.

The friend’s wife walked into the room just as my husband was delivering his crowning argument and interrupted.  She had finally had enough of the disrespect and yelling happening between the two men.  She was putting her foot down and felt that if they couldn’t get along, they should stop learning together.  My husband and his friend looked at each other and burst out laughing!  They assured her that they weren’t angry, and in fact, loved nothing more than these kinds of debates and disagreements.  There was most assuredly mutual respect on both sides.  For her part, it was an “Alrighty then!” moment, as she left the room smiling and shaking her head incredulously (well, I’m imagining that part).

While the situation that has inspired such vitriol didn’t happen in the context of an intellectual debate, that is the spirit in which I conveyed my opposition.  I retain my right to oppose ideas and language, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I am opposed to the person.  I have no basis for such opposition.  I can be diametrically opposed to someone’s positions on certain matters, yet outside of those debates, still have respect for them as a human being.

It’s 2010.  The phone rings and I say a silent prayer that it’s not my child’s school on the caller id.   Drying my hands on a dish towel, I grab the receiver, hoping for once that it will be a telemarketer.  No such luck.  It’s been another rough day for my son, Y.  Another day of calling out and disrupting the class, another day of frustration for both teacher and student, and now another day of feeling like a bad parent for me.  I get that hot prickly feeling on the back of my neck as I hang up the phone and grab my purse to pick Y up from the office.  I am not looking forward to facing the staff as I take home my misbehaving son.  I am not looking forward to once again having a conversation with Y about how disappointed I am in his behavior, and looking into his sad brown eyes as he says, “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

It’s hard to understand how last year’s home pre-school program went so well, and this year’s school nursery program is going so badly.  We were unprepared for this kind of feedback.  My child seems to spend more time in the pre-school director’s office than in class these days.  I am often asked to come pick him up early.  When there are special programs or changes to the schedule, I am diplomatically asked if I don’t feel it would be better for him to stay at home, since he doesn’t do well with changes to his routine.  As a working mother, this isn’t an ideal solution.  Y’s pre-school functions both as an educational outlet and as a means of babysitting so that I can complete my work projects.  Once he comes home, it’s the 24/7 “Y” show, as he demands all of my attention, and I can’t work again until after he goes to bed.

After numerous conferences with the pre-school director, the nursery teachers, school social workers, Y’s speech and occupational therapists, it is recommended that Y not return for kindergarten the following year.  Instead, they think it’s best that he go to a therapeutic pre-school program run under the auspices of Jewish Child and Family Services.  This seems unthinkable.  All of our other children have gone to our current Jewish day school, and each child has had their own journey.  However, we have never been asked to leave the school.  Well, maybe they didn’t directly ask Y to leave, just strongly advised.  If we insisted that we were keeping him at his current school, it’s possible they would continue to try and work with us.  However, stubbornly staying put would mean more frustration, more difficult meetings, and more tears.

Removing Y from the school was one of the hardest decisions we have ever had to make as parents.  What does leaving say about Y, what does it say about our parenting skills, and what will happen at the end of the year at the therapeutic school – will he be able to come back?  The sadness I felt sitting at Y’s nursery school graduation, as all of the kids sang songs and looked forward to returning next year as kindergarteners, can’t be described.  My son wouldn’t be returning next year, and might possibly never be allowed back.

A few of my other kids had some academic issues, but they were not behavior problems and the school was more than happy to work with them.  Behavioral issues are an entirely different can of worms.  A teacher who has 15-20 kids in a class can’t teach effectively if there is one child constantly interrupting.  It used to be that kids who acted up in class were thought to be doing it on purpose.  It was the child’s choice to act out.  It is true, that parents were often blamed for spoiling their children and letting them act like animals with no consequences.  However, the more we know about child behavior, the more those concepts of control and blame are changing.

During Y’s time at the therapeutic school we inundated both him and ourselves with learning about what makes him tick.  He went to the therapeutic school in the mornings, a socialization group at another therapy center in the afternoons, and his week was also peppered with speech therapy (a big issue that contributed to his acting out) and behavioral occupational therapy (learning how to control physical and verbal outbursts when he is feeling emotional).  Any free afternoons were spent taking him to children’s museums, the zoo, arcades – places where he could informally practice the new social skills he was learning with other children.

My husband and I spent many hours meeting with Y’s support staff, going to weekly therapy sessions about Y’s progress, and learning how to understand and help him.  The important message I got – Y’s behavior was nobody’s fault.  There were a variety of factors, such as speech issues, OT issues, and impulsivity issues that contributed to his lack of control in the classroom.  There were concrete solutions available to resolve these issues.  With early intervention, Y could be a successful student in a few years, his current struggles a thing of the past.

When the year at the therapeutic school was drawing to a close, we wondered if he would be accepted back at his old school.  We looked at other Chicago area Jewish day schools, and none seemed like a good fit.  The one school that seemed like they might be able to handle his needs, already had a number of other children that fell into a similar category as Y, and they couldn’t take on another child with his requirements.  Not having a day school for the fall caused me many sleepless nights. Finally, after meeting again with his old school, we worked out an arrangement for him to return with a full time aid and as part of their special education program.  He continued his outside therapies as well.

After a successful year, Y was able to completely wean off assistance with his aids, leave the special education program, and become fully integrated in the classroom.  It was a complete turnaround from a few years earlier.

I write this in 2013, after coming from another staffing at the school last Friday.  When a child has behavioral issues, in Y’s case, impulsivity, there will be bumps in the road.  It’s naive to believe in fairy tale endings where everything is happily ever after.  Every year is a new classroom structure, new teachers, new subjects, new classmates, and new challenges.  As always, we will do all we can to get Y the support he needs to become successful in the classroom.  The one thing we won’t do, although it’s sometimes tempting, is stick our heads in the sand.

As a parent, hearing any critique of my child is more painful than hearing a critique of me.  My kids represent my life’s meaning.  They are the only tangible things I can look to and know with complete certainty, that in giving them life and being their mother, I have accomplished at least one thing that Hashem wanted from me during this go around.

While it is difficult to hear about problems and therapeutic recommendations for any parent, in the frum community, it is exponentially harder.  No frum parent wants to hear that their child is different from other children.  No frum parent wants the stigma of having to send their son or daughter to therapy or special education programming.  No frum parent wants their child’s bad behavior to reflect poorly upon them.  Often parent teacher meetings of this sort become contentious.  Parents dig their heels ever deeper into denial as they stubbornly refuse to hear the negative feedback from educators.  There is simply too much at risk to give credence to such criticism.

If we want our children to succeed there is only one path – walking through the fire.  We must put our own egos and fears aside, and accept the analysis of professionals who are there to help our children.  Teachers, school administrators, academic counselors, therapists, and parents must be on the same team.  Long gone are the days when we assumed a child would “just grow out of it.”  A struggling child left to grow out of their difficulties will only worsen and fall farther behind.  If we catch the problems early, they will blossom.  If we begin tackling the inevitable problems years later, it might already be too late.

We can’t afford to kill the messengers.  We pay tuition for the expertise of educators in our day schools.  If we are financially investing in our teachers, it follows that we feel their expertise is valuable.  Consequently, we can’t then discount their opinions when they tell us something we don’t want to hear.  We must assume that they want the best for our children, and under that assumption, work with them so that indeed, our kids will get the very best assistance our schools can offer.

My family had an interesting discussion on Shabbos this week.  We were talking about a recent phrase that has become popular when talking about shidduchim.  It goes something like this:

“Mazel tov!  Did you hear that Shira and Dov got engaged?”

“How wonderful!  So, nu?  Who is this young man?”

“He’s amazing!  One of the top learners in his yeshiva and such a baal middos.  He comes from a chashuva family.”

“So, Shira is planning on working and Dov is planning on learning?  Nice!  Does Dov have a plan beyond yeshiva?  You know, for when, im yirtza Hashem, children come along?”

“Cell phones have plans.  People don’t have plans.”

This remark about cell phone plans is meant to denigrate the concept of planning for your future.  Planning indicates a lack of bitachon, and quite frankly, planning calls into question your overall emunah.   Anyone who has true faith and wants to live according to the tenets of Torah (kollel for husbands, working for wives), will be provided for by Hashem.  We should never think that we run the world, and by having a plan, we are doing just that.

What we debated over was the concept of hishtadlus; our obligation to make an effort on our own behalf in addition to asking Hashem for help.  After all, we are also taught “ein somchim al haness” (do not expect or rely on a miracle).

Rabbi Yosef Gavriel Bechhofer quotes Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler on this subject of hishtadlus:

“ (Dessler) explains how one must balance one’s personal efforts and exertions vs. his trust in Hashem. If your emunah is strong, you are able to discern the spiritual trends that are active in the world, in what direction they are propelling the world, and you within it, and accordingly to direct your own efforts. The goal is to know and be conscious of a basic principle of Bitachon: That any exertion or effort that is not motivated by spiritual aspirations — an exertion or effort that is motivated by materialistic aspirations — clashes with emunah.

Admittedly, concedes Rav Dessler, the balance between legitimate and necessary Hishtadlus — your quest for resources that are required so as to fulfull your spiritual aspirations and their needs; and illegitimate and unnecessary Hishtadlus — your quest for resources that you desire so as to fulfill your materialistic aspirations and their prerequisites — is very fine. Much prayer, and much divine aid, are required to attain that balance.”

In the case of the cell phone plan scenario, it seems that we are talking about planning for basic necessities and not over the top materialistic aspirations.  In my opinion, the problem with allowing young couples not to have a plan is that it depends upon someone else having a plan.  That someone else is usually a parent, grandparent, another philanthropic benefactor, or even the government.  Someone has to have a practical plan to support young couples, so that they don’t have to have one.  Those marrying without a practical plan for their long term support will find themselves hard pressed to offer the same luxury to their own children in 20 years.  There will be no planners to turn to anymore.

To be fair, this same concept of plans being useless is not only an ultra orthodox concept.  The Yiddish axiom, “Man plans and God laughs,” is popular among Jews and non-Jews alike.  “Let Go and Let God,” is another commonly used phrase to emphasize faith in Hashem’s ability to guide our lives without our input.  Even The Beatles got into this concept of life taking unexpected turns despite planning, in their song Beautiful Boy, which quotes Allen Saunders, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

Where is the fine line drawn between building goals and steering yourself in a solid direction to reach them and allowing the river of life to float you toward whichever bank Hashem deems best?

There is a growing awareness in the Jewish community that the new politically correct way to condemn Jews is to condemn Israel.  Critiquing a country’s policies is more socially acceptable than critiquing an entire religion.  A November Haaretz article discusses ancient anti-Semitic themes that crop up in criticisms of Israel.

“…an ancient anti-Semitic theme is that Jews and Judaism stand in the way of some form of universal (re: European) harmony.  former U.K. Foreign Secretary Jack Straw’s comments that Germany’s “obsession” with defending Israel prevents concerted European action to pressure Israel, is one example of such a transformation of an ancient theme.”

“Another ancient theme is that Jews use money in order to manipulate world affairs and steer governments away from the will of the people….Today, it has evolved in the Israeli context: To use Straw’s comments as an example, “unlimited funds” available to Jewish organizations and to AIPAC to divert American policy. The implication again is that without these funds, U.S. policy would be substantially different, and that it would no longer stand in the way of global harmonious action to pressure Israel.”

Recently, The Washington Post reported that the American Studies Association, the nation’s oldest and largest association devoted to the interdisciplinary study of American culture and history approved an academic boycott of Israeli universities over the objections of numerous former presidents of the organization and Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas, who angered activists by saying that he does not support a boycott of Israel (though he does support a boycott of Israeli products in the occupied territories).  Several universities, including Harvard, have slammed the boycott.   Penn State University at Harrisburg and Brandeis University both said they are withdrawing their memberships from the American Studies Association, and other schools are considering doing the same thing.

While reading about this growing method of couching discrimination in politically acceptable jargon, I was reminded of a different way to discriminate using underhanded means.  I am talking about using religious piety to mask sexism.

In many segments of the orthodox world, it is politically correct to be ever more stringent in the area of tznius, and warn of the untold level of harm that will come to communities where women are not dressed modestly.   Fire and brimstone speeches warning of the tragedies that will befall us due to short skirts, sexy sheitels, or low necklines are well received from orthodox pulpits, publications, and pashkevillin around the world.

I’ve previously shown examples on my blog of proclamations claiming that women covering up can prevent car crashes, enhance parnassah, and generally cure societal ills.  Tznius standards are detailed down to the button and used as an excuse to exclude women from the public sphere, including synagogue involvement and the IDF.  There are those who are starting to recognize this phenomenon and are speaking out against using modesty as a rationale for oppression.

Halachic pronouncements can be used to justify sexism just as protesting the Israeli government can be used to justify anti-Semitism.   Just because both methods have current social acceptability (each in their own worlds – political/academic and religious), does not mean their arguments are sound.  Of course, not everyone who criticizes Israel is an anti-Semite, just as not everyone who criticizes lax tznius observance is a misogynist.  The onus is upon each individual to see beyond the veil of words and fix their gaze upon the true intentions of the speaker.

The other day I read an article in the Toronto Star profiling the Jewish cult, Lev Tahor.  Court documents have been released detailing evidence of abuse charges leveled against the group by Quebec child protection officials.

One of the allegations that struck me in the Toronto Star article concerned widespread foot fungus among the girls and women.

“A social worker testified at the Quebec trial that the feet of one of the children were blue from the fungus.

“There was not a toe that was not infected,” she said. “It was based in the toenails, which meant that her nails were very, very thick and her feet very swollen, all blue, and all her toes were infected.”

“We heard about concerns about fungus,” said Goldman. “It’s a very, very minor thing, but because there were some concerns we tried to do more than we needed. We brought a special dermatologist.”

The worker testified that the infection was widespread among women in the community, as they were made to leave their socks on. The worker said a meeting with the community leaders led to a loosening of this restriction.”

I have to wonder if, among members of Lev Tahor, the blue fungus is a visible sign that women are complying with the rule of constant foot covering?  Obviously, the condition must cause extreme discomfort and is aesthetically distasteful, but might it also be a cause of pride for women who put their own comfort and vanity aside for the sake of faithful adherence to extreme modesty codes?

This made me wonder about another commonly diagnosed ailment among members of the orthodox community, vitamin D deficiency.  In 2001, the British Medical Journal published a report that concludes that ultra orthodox women are at a higher risk for vitamin D deficiency.  The study also says that there is a higher prevalence of vitamin D deficiency among women in other religious groups whose skin doesn’t get sun exposure, such as those within Muslim and Bedouin communities.

This study came on the heels of another smaller study profiling orthodox adolescent girls and boys, who were found to have significantly lower spinal bone mineral density than their non-haredi counterparts, partly because of lack of exposure to sunlight.  The boys were actually found to have greater risk than the girls, due to studying in a closed beis medrash all day.

Although not a visible ailment, being diagnosed with vitamin D deficiency could indicate strict adherence to the laws of tznius.  I myself was diagnosed with vitamin D deficiency this summer, and had to take an 8 week megadose of the supplement.  This surprised me, because although I dress fairly modestly, I often am outdoors in the sun biking, walking, or jogging.  One Chicago area doctor says that 70% of her patients are vitamin D deficient.  Because of our cold climate, we are covered up around 9 months of the year, leading to lack of sun exposure to the skin.

In my case, I suppose the deficiency is due more to my climate than my extreme piety.  Still, I can’t help but wonder if I deserve  a small sense of pride that I have lab results proving my lack of skin exposure to the sun?  Is vitamin D deficiency a badge of honor among those of us who strive to dress modestly?  I can imagine women lining up in droves at the Osco pharmacy, receiving a blue ribbon of recognition along with their 50,000 IUs of vitamin D.  Of course, men are diagnosed with vitamin D deficiency too, and that could attest to their dedication to learning Torah.  Is it praiseworthy to suffer a non life threatening medical condition for the sake of Torah observance?

I have to giggle now at this piece I wrote in 2007.  At the time, I had a 2 year old, so being pregnant and being judged for being pregnant was still fresh in my mind.  My youngest is 8 years old now, so it’s been a minute since I have dealt with this issue.  However, my umbrage at critical remarks I received regarding my fertility showcase the stereotyping I felt as the “barefoot and pregnant” oppressed Jewish orthodox house frau.  It reminds me that I have been on both sides of the fence when it comes to haredi bashing.  Although I don’t view myself as haredi, folks who wouldn’t know a matza ball from a wrecking ball do.  Like it or not, I have more in common to the outside world with the ultra orthodox community than with the secular community.  This alone should inspire a sense of solidarity and an attempt at mutual understanding.

She’s ALWAYS Pregnant…

So, I was having a conversation with a frum and married friend, who also happens to work as a receptionist in Mr. Frumhouse’s office. She is pregnant. VERY pregnant.

She was sitting at her desk when a woman came in and started making conversation with her. The woman asked my friend if she was Mr. Frumhouse’s wife. She replied that she wasn’t. The woman then responded, “Oh, I thought you were his wife because she is ALWAYS pregnant!”

What the @&#%??!!

I should say that Mr. Frumhouse works in an environment where there is a very large secular Jewish population. I suppose if one ventures beyond the 2.5 kids, your status upgrades to ALWAYS pregnant.

I have another story that happened to me many years ago when, for about 3 years, I really was ALWAYS pregnant. I was sitting in the waiting room at my obstetrician’s office, pregnant with my 3rd and with 2 other very small children in tow.

As I sat in the waiting room, a drug rep (you know the type – skinny, blond, and wheeling a cutesy little piece of luggage with all her wares behind her) came out of the doctor’s office shmoozing with the nurse as she headed out the door. As she passed by me with my kids and obviously pregnant belly, she commented to the nurse “Looks like SHE could have used some of my samples!” (birth control pills)

Again, what the %$#&??!! Hello, I can HEAR you!

Do any of you moms with large families hear rude comments about being pregnant or the size of your family? For that matter, do any of you moms who have smaller families get comments from people assuming you have (or will have) huge families by virtue of the sheitle or tichel on your head – “She’s orthodox, she must have a million kids!”

Post a comment and tell me about it!

The other week a commenter on my blog, Dean Cowan, linked to a 2006 employment study done on the haredi Stamford Hill community in London.   Dean referenced this study in response to my article on poverty within the haredi community.  His point was that in the haredi neighborhoods of Stamford Hill and Manchester, there is a greater balance of “learners and earners” than my post suggested.

Although my post was mainly referencing the kollel lifestyle espoused by Israeli haredi society, and the resulting poverty, I also suggested that this way of life is becoming prevalent in American haredi communities as well.  Dean suggested that London was a role model for how economic balance can be achieved in haredi communities.

While the Stamford Hill study was interesting, and did suggest that working for a living is not frowned upon in the London community, it still suggested that most haredi workers lack education and the means to secure higher paying jobs.  Although some men did well in diamonds, real estate, import/export, teaching, and running small businesses, overall the types of jobs that were available without secular degrees offered limited income.

I think that it’s terrific that working isn’t a stigma in Stamford Hill, but based on the study, it seems that higher education still is.  The Stamford Hill community still suffers from poverty and makes regular use of both private and public funding to make ends meet.

At the same time I was reading the Stamford Hill study, I had set up a phone interview to speak with a haredi New York area fellow I’ve become acquainted with on Twitter.  He goes by the handle, @shlomo_kay (not his real name), and I became curious about him when he once referred to himself as resembling a “Yoeli” (a follower of the Satmar rebbe, Yoel Teitelbaum).

Shlomo is very well spoken, at least in 140 characters or less, and interested in a wide variety of topics in the Jewish orthodox spectrum.  He also has a personal interest in economic theory, which led me to believe he might have a college degree or work in finance.  Additionally, he is fluent in Yiddish, and told me about the scholarly chasidish Yiddish dialect comprised of Yiddish, Biblical Hebrew, and Aramaic that top learners often use in the beis medrash.  This language of discourse is only mastered by the upper echelon of Torah scholars.  He pointed me to a website for examples, but I couldn’t read it, and Google Translate was useless.

At first, I wanted to interview Shlomo about his involvement with Twitter.  I had noticed that there were a lot of Yiddish speaking chasids on Twitter under pseudonyms and I was curious about this “Twitterburg” underground.  However, after reading the Stamford Hill study, I thought that perhaps Shlomo could enlighten me about whether such a balance between learners and earners also existed in Williamsburg or Borough Park.

I am going to divide up the interview into three posts, as our conversation forked into three related but separate roads.  Below is a transcript of my conversation with Shlomo, comprising a combination of direct quotes and my own paraphrasing.

Shlomo Kay is a rabbi who grew up in the Brooklyn neighborhoods of Williamsburg and Borough Park.  He spent many years in kollel and by his description, attended “yeshivish yeshivos, the creme de la creme of ultra charedi type.“  Eventually he made his way through yeshivas in New York, Brisk in Israel, and Lakewood.  He left chasidism at a fairly young age, initially because of the level of learning and eventually because of the friends he made in yeshivish circles.

His ideologies evolved from chasidish to yeshivish, and he currently finds his place in a yeshivish community in New York.  He now works as a rabbi who acts as a consultant on halachic matters.  Shlomo is married with several children.

Shlomo told me that when it comes to haredi  Jews, chasidic and yeshivish groups are often lumped together into one by outsiders.  In truth, however, the two groups’ kollel lifestyles are based on entirely different sets of principles.  For most chasidic groups the issue is secular education.  They are opposed to college in principle, and they frown on a secular education.  Even if they are not opposed to teaching basic skills in elementary school, they make light of it. For them, the issue isn’t the desire to learn or the prohibition of Bittul Torah, it’s about the lack of a secular education.  With the language barrier and minimal education, their choices are limited. In the yeshivish community, on the other hand, it’s all about learning. They are not necessarily opposed to secular education in principle. The driving principle for the yeshivish community is learning Torah.

In previous generations, most chasidim worked, it’s only recently that more people started staying in kollel.  In the past, only the best and brightest chasids stayed in kollel.  Those who were not the best and brightest went to work after high school.  However, even the best and brightest eventually have overwhelming financial concerns and at some point government programs are not sufficient to support their families.  By the time their financial situation reaches a crisis, their only option for a lucrative career is to become an entrepreneur.  However, to be a successful entrepreneur, one has to take risks.  It’s one thing to take business risks when you are starting out at 18 years old, it’s another thing to take them when you are already responsible for a large family.

Shlomo went on to say,

“It’s (the kollel lifestyle) not sustainable, so I believe more people will be going to work.  The trend seems to be heading toward people learning full time, but I think the trend has reached its maturity.”

“As kids grow up and see their brothers and perhaps even their parents spending their whole lives learning and have no future in the system except perhaps to get a job in chinuch and, as in academia in general, (they find that) those jobs are few and far between.  Kids watching this will not want to buy into the system.  They will look for ways to go to work and educate themselves.”

“In the yeshivish population there is a segment that will go to work and even to college. But the trend will likely shift toward people getting education in yeshivish circles.  But by chasidim, it’s not happening anytime soon.  There is a language barrier and minimal education as it is.  They are against going to universities in general.  In yeshivish circles college is Bittul Torah but by chasidim (it’s cultural).”

In Shlomo’s new yeshivish community, most people work.  He says that the most frustrating thing about the haredi lifestyle is that so many people are not planning for their future.  Most of their kids will be growing up in a society where they have no prospects for a sound financial future.

“I am a product of “the system,” but I don’t see how it is sustainable or even permitted on such a wide scale.”

“It used to be that in yeshivish circles, (a man in yeshiva) after a certain amount of years would get a chinuch job, but the field is saturated even for really bright ones.  What’s more, the learning is at a very high level.   The brightest ones are learning in a sophisticated way. The more time they spend perfecting their learning in Lakewood, the more sophisticated they become, the less qualified (they are) to teach kids – too high a level.”

“(The) ones who have innate talent in teaching kids will get grabbed (right away).  (They) spend 10-15 years of kollel perfecting a skill that nobody wants (meaning, teaching young kids).”

“They all wanted to work at some point, but most will be left without any prospects for jobs.  Nearing 40, marrying off children, they have no occupations, and have no patience to learn anymore the same way they did 10 years ago.  Children growing up in these houses will eventually turn away, how far is unclear.”

Here is Part II and Part III of the interview.

Today’s post is a continuation of yesterday’s interview with Rabbi Shlomo Kay (not his real name).  We continued to discuss the financial viability of the kollel lifestyle for future generations.  However, the conversation veered off into personal interests outside of Torah study; interests which compelled Shlomo to venture into the online world of Twitter.

The interview reveals a man with more liberal views than one would normally ascribe to a former Lakewood talmid.  In fact, Shlomo was a surprise to me in general.  At first, I assumed that he might be a baal teshuvah, due to his intelligent observations regarding religion, politics, and economics.  However, it turned out that Shlomo grew up chasidish and by his own admission,

“My formal secular education, if you can call it that, ended at grade 8.”

Speaking with Shlomo has made me confront stereotypes that I have held about those in the haredi community.  Since the haredi community generally eschews college education, it’s easy to draw the conclusion that they are less intelligent than their more modern orthodox counterparts.  For many chasidim, for example, English is a second language to Yiddish.  That language barrier immediately makes for miscommunication.  Secular education, at least for boys, often ends around grade 8 – yet another reason to claim intellectual superiority for those of us with college degrees.

However, while Shlomo might not have had an extensive limudei chol education, he has had an extensive limudei kodesh education.  He has learned with the best and brightest in both chasidic and litvish yeshivas.  It is a testament to his brilliance that, even without a secular higher education, he expresses himself so eloquently and displays such an aptitude for discussion and analysis on a wide variety of topics.

I think the kind of stereotyping facing chasidim today is similar to that which immigrants coming to America in previous centuries faced.  Mistaking language and cultural barriers for a lower level of general aptitude is a common error.

After speaking with Shlomo, I also realize that it’s a mistake to think that the haredi yeshivish life is based on a communal sense of entitlement.  As Shlomo said in Part I of the interview, most young couples enter the kollel life assuming that the husband will go to work at some point.  That naïve and distant plan is shattered when the time comes for its implementation and there are no jobs available.

Below is Part II of my interview with Shlomo.

I asked Shlomo how a kollel couple can afford to have the husband learn and the wife work long term, especially after having a kids.

“People starting kollel planned to get jobs in chinuch, but it’s not happening for most of them.  However, Lakewood is set up for the (kollel) lifestyle.  Babysitting is cheap, many are supported by parents, and (both men and women have) opened successful businesses.  Overhead and advertising costs are low because (many are) basement businesses.  However, at some point it has to come crashing to a halt.  People need not just money, but an occupation.  Most people are not cut out to learn for the rest of their life without a normal job and most people never intended to stay forever.”

I asked Shlomo if he could think of an example of someone who had found an unusually lucrative career after their years in kollel.

“One person became a lawyer after years of learning.  However, you have to be able to afford to do that and be educated (bright) enough – (there is) lots of catch up to do.”

I wanted to know if there has been a rise in charitable collections for kollel families.  Are people having a harder time making ends meet as the generations of working grandparents and parents die out?  Who will subsequent generations depend upon financially, if their own parents are also products of the kollel system?

“There is no rise in the number of people collecting (door to door) for themselves.  (The solution for many is to) open a small business.  You don’t see much (outward) poverty in Lakewood.  The only people you see collecting for (their own needs) are from Israel.  People are working in Borough Park and Williamsburg.  Those who aren’t have some kind of plan in place – (usually involving) government entitlements.”

“Many people are eligible (for government assistance), but they can’t do much with food stamps.  Until the (recent) affordable health care act, it was probably harder to go to work.  You would have to make a lot of money for it to be worth working.  (Insurance can cost) $1500 per month.  If you make less than, say, $40,000 you can get free health insurance, but if you make over $40,000 (you must pay for health insurance).  There is little incentive to work if the job will not overcome that gap.”

I switched topics and asked Shlomo why he signed up for Twitter.

“I signed on to read, and 140 characters or less is pretty appealing to me!  A certain amount of equality (exists on Twitter).  If I make a point (about an article) the writer may (directly) respond.”

“I take an interest in and follow other yeshivish or chasidish people.  I find it fascinating, (for example) @GroynemOx, he seems to keep shabbos and follows an economic theory that is more to the left politically than, Paul Krugman’s from the New York Times.  (Krugman’s theories) are among the most progressive in the country!  I became interested in monetary theory myself personally and it’s interesting to find another chasidic person who also became interested.  Groynem Ox is more vocal and seems to be a more fervent follower than me of theories such as MMT (modern monetary theory).”

“Charedim are usually more right wing (in their politics).  It usually comes from the fact that they only have access to the radio.  (They tend to listen to) conservative right wing talk radio.  Also, the Yated newspaper (a Jewish newspaper printed in Hebrew and English editions) is the voice of Rush Limbaugh.”

“I find it interesting that people who benefit from government entitlements are so against it!  Finding a kid who grew up chasidic (Groynem Ox) who is so progressive is interesting to me.”

“(I don’t) often get to interact with people from different angles of frumkeit.  (It’s interesting to see) what my religion looks like to other people.  Until you see it from other people’s perspectives, (you don’t realize that it’s) not all positive.  You recently wrote a post (critiquing your former viewpoint on why people leave orthodoxy). Seeing it from other people’s perspectives changes your perspective, which has its positives and negatives.”

I asked Shlomo why he wanted to risk seeing his religion negatively.  Why open up a can of worms by going online?

At this point, Shlomo shared with me a treatise he drafted for himself, “The 13 Principles of My (Charedi) Religion.”

Here is the link to Part I of the interview.  Part III of Shlomo’s interview will discuss these 13 principles.

This is the final installment of my interview with Rabbi Shlomo Kay.  Here are the links to Parts I and II. I want to thank Shlomo for his insights, his time, and his editing skills.  My eyes have been opened ever wider to the possibility that as a whole, different Jewish factions are more similar than perhaps we would care to admit.

At the end of the last interview, Shlomo shared a treatise he created to clarify his philosophy on being a charedi Jew.

The 13 Principles of My (Charedi) Religion

1. Don’t lie to your children. Ever.

Example: Don’t tell your children the immunizations won’t hurt. Don’t tell stories of tzadikkim that are bogus. Don’t tell them the Rebbe is a tzadik if he is a corrupt gangster.

2. Be kind. To everyone. Yes, even to goyim and kofrim. And not just to make a kiddush hashem.

3. To thyself be truthful. If there’s a religious tenet that seems fantastic, find a convincing reason that you should believe it. Tradition is an acceptable reason-provided it is well documented. If you can’t find a convincing reason, discard that tenet.

4. Do not give credence to xenophobia (including toward charedi societies). Societies are similar to each other more than they are different. And, your group isn’t exactly perfect either.

5. An ancient cultural norm is not automatically a religious principle.

6. Pursuit of happiness is a right, but it does not trump any other right. No, you don’t have the right to ruin the lives of others even in order to make yours bearable.

7. Understand that faith is a difficult challenge as well as a great achievement.  Your job is to explain why you believe, not why someone else doesn’t. Don’t assume everyone has the capacity to believe.

8. Do not fault individuals for their corrupt leaders. Power corrupts, and many leaders are rotten. And there isn’t a blessed thing anyone can do about it.

9. Do not trust any religious leader who heads a political party. Politics destroys all souls. Political operatives always create an airtight environment around a gadol so that he lives in an alternate reality.

10. Do not fear change. Not everything that’s old is good. The preceding generations weren’t always smart and perfect.

11. Do not automatically embrace change. Not everything that’s old is bad. The preceding generations weren’t stupid.

12. Do not impose your value system on other cultures. Most of your value system and set of beliefs is the product of cultural norms.

13. Be compassionate to all. Even to those who don’t adhere to these very principles.

For some reason, these principles bring tears to my eyes.  I suppose it’s because I wouldn’t assume that anyone other than a more modern rabbi would write them.  Can it be that a man, who has spent his entire life in insular chasidic and yeshivish Israeli and New York communities, could have the compassion and depth to write something so…grounded?  Is it possible that someone who has spent years with his head in the spiritual clouds could still be so rooted to the earth?  Yet, here is this document of faith that stresses each Jew’s responsibility to themselves and to others.  A document that tells people not to believe based on blind faith, but also on thoughtful analysis.  Here is a charedi rabbi who is proposing compassionate treatment toward Jews of every stripe, non Jews, and even non believing Jews.

I asked Shlomo how he thinks people from his yeshivish community would respond to his 13 principles.

“I don’t think I’d get flack for it, if it weren’t for the confrontational tone.  I think that I could best affect people’s attitudes if I were to drop these ideas one at a time.  These are not revolutionary ideas.  Most people, if they are not put to them in a confrontational manner, most people can find it within their hearts to (know these principles to) be true. (I think it would be) more useful to discuss them in a quiet manner as the (individual questions) come out.  ”

I asked why Shlomo tweets under a pseudonym.

“l tweet under a pseudonym  because rabbis or klei kodesh professionals have a different level of expectations (than lay people).”

I asked if he had other rabbi friends who he could talk to honestly about his philosophies.

“Yes.  If you strip away some of the myths they are taught, most people will agree.”

“I don’t know that I am liberal. My politics are somewhat progressive, but I do want people to connect more with their compassionate side, even if they are not liberal.  Rav Ovadia Yosef was not a liberal, but was a compassionate rav.  Rav Moshe (Feinstein) was not a liberal by any definition, but he was a very compassionate rav.  (There might be) differences between liberal and orthodox (rabbis), but we can all use a dose of compassion.”

Since Shlomo was being so accommodating, I decided to press my luck and ask him about his views on homosexuality in the orthodox world.

“I know someone who had approached his rabbi (about this issue).  This man told his rebbe that his friend had come out of the closet to him.  He wanted to know how to handle this friendship. The rabbi quoted the Ramban and told him that homosexual activity stems from being very hedonistic and that he should cut off ties.”

The man was disturbed by this psak, because this was a good friend.

“I told him that, first of all, most people he has contact with are just as hedonistic – they just don’t happen to be gay.  Also, how can you say there is such no such thing as people being gay, just hedonistic?  There is every kind of sexual inclination possible out there.  How is that even plausible?  Certainly, for the (sake of the) person he should continue the friendship and be compassionate towards him and not cut off ties.  (This is a) perfect example of basic humanity, wherever you stand on the issue in terms of religion.”

Based on a discussion that developed on one of my posts, I asked Shlomo his feelings on allowing children of same sex couples into Jewish day schools.

“Even heterosexual couples, who are overt about their sexuality, (could be a problem).  The children of many yeshivas are from sheltered homes where sexuality is not open for discussion and parents who are open (about sexuality) no matter (if they are) heterosexual could pose a problem.  The parent’s sexual inclination in itself should not be an issue.”

Summing up his thoughts for this interview, Shlomo went on to say,

“These things are cyclical – the financial strain (of the kollel system will result in) people coming back to their senses.  (They will realize) that it’s not possible. There’s a Sefer Meshech Chochma from Rav Meir Simcha of Dvinsk who died in 1926, before Hitler rose to power.  (Rav Meir Simcha outlines a) model of Jewish history that when kids can’t improve on their parents (generation), they are bound to leave, at which point there is a major upheaval.  (After the destruction) we can then start improving and improving, until (once again) we can no longer improve, and then it (society) will be destroyed and start again.  The historical model is pretty compelling.”

“The Arab Spring was not based on democracy but economic issues.  Every societal upheaval results from economic hardships.  The struggle for parnassah is always a catalyst for change.  If people are smart, if their child is not inclined to stay in yeshiva, (they will) send him to college and (allow the child to) remain close and remain in the fold.  If they don’t they (their child) will go farther to the left.  I don’t see that it’s avoidable.”

With 2014 ringing in a New Year promising more rumblings of discontent and disagreement among various segments of Klal Yisroel, it was interesting for me to find this old post from 2008 about the threatened cancellation of a Lipa Schmeltzer concert to have taken place at Madison Square Garden, which he dubbed, “The Big Event.” The concert was ultimately cancelled.

To me, Schmeltzer’s concert debacle, and indeed Lipa Schemelzer himself, represent the tension in the haredi community between pushing 21st century boundaries and maintaining old norms.  This is true on both sides of the argument.  While Lipa and his followers promote exploring new creative horizons in Jewish entertainment, those against visiting these new vistas want to pull back the reigns on such journeys in ways previously unseen.  Before 2008, there had been some distant grumblings in America (louder in Israel) about Jewish musicians crossing the line and disguising secular niggunim with Jewish lyrics.  However, never before “The Big Event” concert had there been such a decisive smack down by the powers that be for Jewish musicians and music lovers alike.

Uncontrollable Klal

Those of you who have been hibernating from the Jblogosphere the past week may have missed the Lipa Schmeltzer/Big Event Concert story. Basically, the current king of the Jewish music jungle, Lipa Schmeltzer, has been deemed too wild by certain factions of the orthodox community. Furthermore, these factions believe that current Jewish music has become goyified (my word, not theirs). Songs that stem from non-Jewish melodies, even if the words and taam have been changed to elevate their kiddusha, are deemed inappropriate for kosher Jewish entertainment. Concerts have taken on an air of such frivolity that people might, Chas Vesholom, Numa Numa right over the mechitza in the concert hall!

The Big Event Concert is scheduled to be held at Madison Square Garden on March 9, 2008. Due to the concerns of community members and rabbanim, this concert and future Jewish music concerts have been banned by a group of about 35 rabbanim. They also prohibit people from hiring any performer who partcipates in the Big Event Concert. Lipa Schmeltzer, after long consultation with his rav and family decided to pull out of the concert. As of now, it isn’t clear whether the entire concert will be cancelled. I am not going to rehash the story and reactions at length, Gruntig has a good synopsis that includes a radio interview with the concert producer, Sheya Mendlowitz.

I had read an amazing article by Marc D. Stern, entitled, “On Constructively Harnessing Tensions Between Laity and Clergy.” After reading opinions about the concert ban and discussing the issue with my husband and best friend, I remembered Stern’s article and it gave me pause. Trying to eliminate the emotional reaction to the particular situation at hand, the piece makes me think about the issue that’s larger than the concert. Both Schmeltzer and Mendlowitz pleaded with outraged fans not to bash the rabbanim who called for the ban. The negative reaction has been overwhelming. It could be because many of the concert ticket holders affected are not talmidum of the rabbanim who forced the issue. It could be that many are followers of the various rabbanim, but still feel that they made an unfair and uninformed decision.

In his article, Stern writes,“Tension between the laity and the rabbinate is not a new phenomenon. It existed in Talmudic times—as for example in Rabbi Akiva’s reminisces about his feelings towards scholars when he was not yet one and, in the same discussion, of the reciprocal hostile feelings of scholars towards non-scholars….The rabbis insisted that any talmid chacham who has no enemies cannot be a true talmid chacham—presumably because he is not fulfilling his function of rebuking those whose religious observance falls short.”

On the one hand, we complain about rabbis who are “in the back pocket” of wealthy baal bateim. The “buy-a-psak” variety, if you will. We demand integrity from our poseks. On the other hand, if the poseks make an unpopular decision, we are quick to criticize and wonder why they don’t cater to the desires of the majority.Many arguments against the concert ban are based on the premise that the rabbanim who signed the decree were either unaware of what they were signing or that their signatures were copied. Either scenario implies that the rabbinic leadership are a bunch of elderly senile rulers or that their heads are so far up in the clouds of Torah, they are blind to the earthly lives of their congregants down below.

Addressing this issue, Stern says,“A rabbinate which the laity believes is abusing its authority or living in another religious and intellectual universe, unresponsive to the intellectual, spiritual, or economic needs of the average Jew—the latter, the very failing for which Rabbi Yehosua memorably rebuked Rabban Gamliel—is destined to failure. This is not hyperbole; it was just such a reaction that characterized the broad rejection of the early American Orthodox rabbinate and its European predecessors.”

Is the response to the concert ban highlighting the failing of American orthodoxy?

Stern sites the reason for the growing alienation between the rabbinate and layperson as the displacement of the pulpit rabbi as posek by the rosh yeshivah:

“Today, the pulpit rabbi stands in danger of being eclipsed by the rosh yeshiva, a phenomenon due not only to the supposed greater knowledge of the rosh ha-yeshiva, but by the fact that exposure to the rosh ha-yeshiva is now all but universal in some measure for all males during their formative years—as it not so long ago was not. (While women do not enjoy the same exposure, the tendency to spend a year or two or more after marriage learning means that the central rabbinic authority during the early marital years will again be the rosh ha-yeshiva, not the pulpit rabbi, for women as well as men.)”

What about those of us who never went to yeshiva/seminary and those of us who do not currently live within the yeshiva system? What about those of us who are not hareidi and don’t have a rebbe who sanctions our everyday activities? If the “gadolei hadorim” of our age are people we have never had any immediate contact with, how does that affect our reverence for their opinion and how we feel when their opinions impede our lifestyles?

Stern’s response is,

“A laity alienated from a rabbinate it sees—not by any means wholly irrationally—as obscurantist, ignorant of the world and lost in irrelevant and abstract Talmudic dialectic–will not have the resources to respond to new challenges in an authentically Jewish way, will not have the involvement in Talmud Torah which is, or ought to be, one of the most important hallmarks of an Orthodox Jew…..

At best, an Orthodoxy estranged from the rabbinate and rashei yeshiva will either have only a tenuous contact with halacha or will have to turn for halachic rulings to rabbis who themselves are hostile to, and have (nevertheless) little direct experience with, modern life. And with certain happy exceptions—Rav Moshe Feinstein and Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach are the most notable—the results are not encouraging.”

There is much more to Stern’s article, but these are the passages that I related to the Big Event Concert. Regardless of one’s opinion on whether or not the concert should be banned – shouldn’t our regard for the opinions of revered poskim rise above all else? Clearly, common opinion of our rabbanim is murky. We don’t know who to trust, who to believe, who is authentic and who is not. We are no longer a shteible society where we can knock on the study doors of our gadolim and ask them directly about the issues that frighten us. We can’t personally vouch for their characters. Our opinions are formed on 2nd, 3rd, or 56th hand information by, say, a friend who was once at a shiur given by the Rav’s uncle’s brother’s son-in-law who regaled the crowd with a first hand account of the Rav at his cousin’s seder table in 1973.

The sad thing is that both Lipa Schmeltzer and the rabbanim who signed the ban are victims of the same phenomenon. It’s easy to bash Schmeltzer when he is nothing but a comical figure in a video or a singer on a far away stage. Would it be so easy to condemn him were he our brother, husband, son, nephew, friend, or neighbor? The rabbanim are getting reamed by the same anonymous masses – most of whom have never stood in the same room with them.

Popular Jewish newspapers have turned into the equivalent of People magazine for the Torah observant crowds. We have turned into a tabloid nation – succumbing to the same phenomenon that society has with celebrities – love them, hate them, love to hate them. Are we so naive as to think we intimately know today’s Torah giants and the complicated issues they face because their names, pictures, whereabouts, and activities are so often reported on in the press?

There are arguments to be made on both sides of the concert issue – the important thing is to be able to make an informed argument. There is background and information that none of us on the outside looking in are privy to. I think it’s possible to be dan l’chaf zchus on both sides and expect that a peaceful resolution will be found.

Updated News – The Big Event Concert was cancelled according to the New York Times.

The organizer of the show, Shea Mendlowitz, will appear 2/27/08 at 8pm Chicago time on the Zev Brenner show online at talklinecommunications.com

Thousands of Hasidic Jews dressed in black watch as an Ultra Orthodox Jewish rabbi dances with the bride during the Mitzva Tantz ritual

Photo from The Daily Mail

The Mitzva Tantz is a dance customarily performed at chasidic Jewish weddings.  Throughout the wedding, dancing between men and women is completely separate.  Men and women dance on either side of a large opaque divider, called a mechitza, separating two dance floors.  At some point during the wedding, the bride and sometimes a few close female relatives, venture over to the men’s section.  At that time the rebbe, father, or grandfather will dance with the bride.

On the bride’s end, this “dancing” involves standing still (with the occasional stiff shuckel or pivot to allow for the man’s movement) and holding one end of a long gartel, while the man she is dancing with holds the other end and shakes his “groove thing.”

To those in the chasidic community, the Mitzva Tantz is a spiritual and emotional highlight of the evening.  To those uninitiated to the custom, it seems quite awkward.  A young bride, no doubt unaccustomed to being around male non-relatives, must stand alone among a sea of men clapping and gawking at her.  While the cheers are presumably for the man dancing with her, since she isn’t showing off her moves, it must still be a blush-inspiring experience.  Whenever I see a photo or video snippet of a Mitzva Tantz at a large wedding, I cringe inside for the girl.

At the same time, I wonder if there has ever been a spunky bride who took advantage of her moment in the spotlight by breaking into a dance of her own?  What would the men do if they suddenly found themselves tethered by their gartel to a “Malky Cyrus?”

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the concept of credentials.  In any realm of life, if someone wants to be taken seriously for an opinion, it seems they must have proven expertise.  In some cases, requiring credentials is obviously prudent.  I wouldn’t go to a plumber to have my tonsils removed.  Likewise, I wouldn’t contact my physician to clear a clog in my pipes.  When it comes to religious matters, likewise, I wouldn’t stop by my local falafel shop to ask the owner a shailah, just as I wouldn’t go to my rabbi to buy a shwarma.  Obviously, guiding the religious community on matters of halacha requires certification. This certification comes in the form of smicha from a recognized yeshiva or individual rabbi.

However, sometimes credential requirements can be a bit ambiguous.  For example, I have my credentials listed on my “About” page, but do I really need any of the degrees listed to be qualified to write this blog?  Even if I were a high school dropout, I would still be entitled to the opinions and experiences I share here.

Similarly, when it comes to the layman’s voice of 21^st century orthodox Jewry, there seems to be a division between the credence of “kol isha” and “kol ish.”  It is a rare (but slowly growing) experience to find an orthodox woman writer who is openly critical of frum society or the rabbinate.  Yes, there are those who critique within the realm of feminine experiences (e.g. mikvah, niddah, tzniut, mothering).  However, women simply don’t have the credentials (smicha or an extensive yeshiva education), or the possibility of obtaining the credentials, to have their voice be taken seriously on a grander scale.

Sometimes, from my vantage point, it seems that anyone with a bris is heard and debated with more respect, simply due to a happy accident of birth.  At the very least, the male voice of dissent inspires some sort of reaction beyond plain vitriol and name calling.  To use a Sons of Anarchy reference, men are the actual club members and we women are just their “old ladies.”

For example, how would you feel about my blog if I told you I had a confession to make?  Maybe this is the perfect time for me to come clean about something.  Some of you have already guessed, but to others this will be a surprise.  It may even seem like a betrayal, but I assure you, it isn’t.  My deception was done without malice.

My confession is that while I have been blogging as a Jewish orthodox woman, in reality, I am actually a Jewish orthodox man.

My name is Chananya Pollak.

That’s right.  Let it sink in.  There, there, it will be ok!  It’s still me, just with an XY chromosome pair.

Why did I do it, you ask?  Why would I waste my time posting fake photos, creating a fake profile, or generally assuming a female persona?  At best, it’s psychologically abnormal.  At worst, I could be accused of “simlat isha” (virtual cross dressing).

I did it to put myself in the precarious stilettos of my wife and daughters.  You see, while I do have my own gripes about the state of affairs in the Jewish orthodox world, I view those concerns through the lens of one who can take an active role in making changes.

I have the credentials to voice my opinion on both halachic and hashkafic matters.  Well, I don’t have the ultimate credential, which would be smicha.  However, spending many years in yeshiva does entitle me to a certain level of credential.  So does the knowledge that I could obtain smicha if I chose to pursue that course of study.  My wife and daughters will never be able to obtain smicha.  Without that credential, or the possibility obtaining it, their voices will never have direct influence in shaping the future direction of our community.

I never realized how true this was until I created Kol B’Isha Erva on a dare from my wife.  I have had my own blog since 2003, called Chazak Chazak V’nitchazek.  Over the years, I have critiqued our modern interpretations of halacha and mesorah, but I’ve never experienced the personal attacks that I have on Kol B’Isha Erva.  Granted, I present myself as a talmid of Rav Yosef Ber Soloveitchik and a fervent proponent of Torah Umadda.  As an educator, my credentials seem to have garnered me some measure of respect among my readers and opponents alike.

However, I refused to believe that my gender played any role in the level of acceptance with which my views were received.  My wife and oldest daughter told me, after one particularly controversial theory that I published, that had a woman written those same words, she would be skewered.  I felt that they were overstating the case, and thus, the concept of Kol B’Isha Erva began.

Gitel and Shayna, I know you thought you would never hear these words, but you were both right.  It’s not only the reactions from readers that has been eye opening (if one more random guy named Yossi emails to ask me if I am sure that I’m “happily married” I might have to go NSA on his ass!  Why are they always named, “Yossi?”).   The main revelation for me has been seeing the world through the eyes of a woman.  I actually felt as if I were looking at my community through Sharon’s eyes; Sharon, a fictional character, a mere figment of my imagination.

I have grown so attached to Sharon that I’m actually thinking of making her the protagonist in a full length novel.  She’s given me some great material and I hate to let her go, so to speak.  Sure, Sharon can be self-absorbed, irreverent in her humor, overly sarcastic, and pretty neurotic when it comes to gay rights and women’s issues.  However, I knew I only had a short time for Sharon to serve her purpose, and so I had to make her rather extreme in her modern orthodox liberal feminist viewpoints in order to garner as much feedback as possible.  I think I can safely say that my strategy worked.

Or has it?

Did I have you believing, even if for only a moment, that I am really a man?  If you had even a shred of doubt, did it cast a temporary cloud of change over the landscape of opinions you’ve read here?  If the same words come from a man versus a woman (both equally observant, both lay people, both in a similar age bracket), how likely are you to give credence to one or the other based solely on their sex?

This motzei shabbos I logged onto Facebook to find two more tragic suicide stories of formerly religious young people.  Sadly, this is becoming an all too common theme.  Tonight I read about the young mother of a 3 year old child, who jumped to her death from a Tel Aviv hotel room.  The other case was a 24 year old son of a rabbi, who apparently took his own life after being repeatedly rejected by his family.  While the timing of the event that precipitated the man’s suicide is under debate (it is said that he was recently turned away at the door of his brother’s engagement party – the family says this party happened 3 years ago), the one thing that remains clear is that the man’s family cut off contact with him as he went off the derech.  The man’s family issued a brief statement, in Hebrew, citing the young man’s mental illness as being the reason for the family rift.

Which came first, the chicken (mental illness) or the egg (going off the derech), is anyone’s guess.  When going off the derech is seen as a form of mental illness, it’s hard to take charges of instability seriously.  Alternately, if someone suffering from mental illness doesn’t get the help they require, it can cause such extreme family tension that the sufferer will seek to shed old ties and find relief in a fresh environment.  The family might likewise feel relief that they are no longer saddled with the burden of a mentally ill child.  In certain ultra orthodox circles, they can blame their child abandonment on a socially acceptable excuse – their child went off the derech.

Last week there was an article in The Times of Israel written by a wonderful man, Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz.   Rabbi Steinsaltz talks about how the role of the rabbi has changed from being charged with halachic questions, to relationship questions.  Most people now approach rabbis needing therapeutic advice, and not halachic advice.  Rabbis are not trained therapists, and as such, are often not qualified to offer the best solutions –

“Consequently, nowadays rabbis are, unfortunately, dealing mainly with issues for which they have not been properly trained, and rarely are they dealing with those areas for which they did receive the proper training. How can a typical rabbi who married at the age of 19 and has been living with the same wife ever since, truly help someone who is involved in a relationship with his friend’s wife? How many rabbis have actually delved into issues of faith in sufficient depth as to enable them to answer questions on this topic?”

In some instances, when a parent struggles with a child who is lapsing in their religious observance, they are given the advice to throw that child out in order to save the remaining ones.  Basically, one bad apple will rot the entire bushel.  The deviant child becomes a korban to save both their sibling’s religiosity and the family’s good standing in the community.

A recent article in Mishpacha magazine highlights this phenomenon.  For a window into a world where it is praiseworthy to abandon wayward children, read an article in Mishapacha magazine by Rabbi Moshe Grylak called, Shame, Blame, and the Eviction Game.  In his article, Rabbi Grylak interviews Rabbi Yair Nahari, who works to save young girls from religious families who have been thrown out into the streets.

Rabbi Grylak tells Rabbi Nahari –

““…ever since we spoke, I’ve been imagining such a girl in my mind’s eye, seeing her wandering in the street with an overnight bag over her shoulder, and I’m trying to fathom what thoughts are going through her mind — we’re talking about a girl of 15 or 16! True, she brought it on herself. But the image makes me feel so awful that I just want to escape from these thoughts, although my brain has me trapped. What sickened me most of all was what you told me about the father who phoned and threatened to have you arrested for kidnapping if you took his daughter in. Kidnapping! Something is very wrong here, don’t you think so, Rabbi Nahari? What kind of society are we living in where a parent can, for whatever reason, abandon his child to the elements? What am I supposed to think?””

Rabbi Nahari, despite every type of family dysfunction he has seen, exhorts Rabbi Grylak not to judge these parents, who are in a difficult situation.  Rabbi Nahari goes on to explain –

““So what you need to understand, Reb Moshe, is the shame these parents have suffered because of their daughter. They feel that she’s betrayed them. She’s humiliated them in public, because everybody’s talking about how their daughter went off the derech. This is what she does to us, she puts us to shame in front of the whole world? After we sacrificed so much for her, after we nurtured and raised her, she turns around and spits in our faces? Feeling betrayed, Reb Moshe, is the worst feeling. A person who feels betrayed is capable of anything.””

The section of the article that is most shocking, comes from a story that Rabbi Grylak heard about Rabbi Aharon Leib Steinman -

““What you’re saying, Rabbi Nahari, reminds me of what I heard recently about Rav Steinman shlita. Some of the big rabbanim were protesting the fact that he didn’t object to the founding of the Nahal Haredi army unit for young men who were already off the derech and on the streets. Rav Steinman asked one of these rabbanim if anyone had come to him yet to ask him to daven that their son should die. The rav was taken aback by the question, naturally, and then Rav Steinman told him, ‘This week, 15 fathers came to me with this request regarding their sons who had gone completely off the derech.’ So this is the feeling that brings parents to such an insane conclusion….””

As a mother, reading these remarks is an ultimate test in being dan lchaf zchus.  As a parent, it’s very hard for me not to be judgmental.  An alive off the derech son is preferable to a dead son any day.  I understand quite personally the desire to see my children follow in my footsteps.  I know firsthand the sacrifices that are made to provide religious opportunities and lifestyles for a 21^st century family.  I sympathize with the communal judgment that befalls those who are different or undergoing difficulties that might be seen as the sufferer’s own fault.  However, at the end of the day, regardless if I agree with my children’s life choices, they will always be my children – both in this life and the next.  Likewise, if they have challenging psychological, emotional, or physical health issues, it’s my burden to bear as their parent.   It’s a forever kind of deal.  When we have a child, we all hope for the best, but we must also prepare for the worst – whatever that means to each individual parent.

Last Thursday and Friday, the Twittersphere was lit up with pleas for information about the abduction of chasidic real estate developer, Menachem (Max) Stark.  Motzei Shabbos, those of us outside of Williamsburg read the horrifying news that Mr. Stark’s smoldering body had been found in a Great Neck trash container at the Getty gas station just before 4 PM Friday.  Saturday night, hundreds of chasidic Jews attended Mr. Stark’s funeral.  Menachem Stark, 39, was a married father of eight, and was known to generously give charity to anyone who needed help in his community.

This morning, however, mourning mixed with outrage, as the New York Post ran this front page cover and expose –

The article details Mr. Stark’s notoriety as a slum lord, as well as his legal and financial problems.  It claims that Mr. Stark had so many enemies, that it will be difficult for law enforcement to narrow down a list of suspects in his murder.

Interestingly, both those within Mr. Stark’s community and those outside of it have reacted to the NYP story with intense anger.  A Facebook page, “Condemn the NY Post for Sundays Cover Page” has garnered over 8,300 likes from those outraged by the headline.  This heartbreaking photo of Mr. Stark’s young son tearing kriah at his father’s funeral is also circulating in response – Twitter is rife with tweets using the hashtag #StopNYPostHate.  One blogger wrote a scathing letter to the New York Post, ripping into them for “confirming” Stark’s shady background and resulting murder even before the police have.  The Zev Brenner Talkline Radio Show spent over 2 1/2 hours talking with Stark’s defenders, who decry the media coverage of their late friend.   Benny Polatseck, a chasidic blogger, created the protest video linked at the end of this post.

While the cover of the NYP article is tasteless and speculative, it brings to light a disturbing reality.  Some of the frum community’s most generous supporters acquire their wealth through nefarious means.

Does a business deal gone bad justify murder?  Never!  We have a court system for a reason.  Anyone with a legal gripe against Mr. Stark should have called their lawyer and not a hit man.  What happened to Mr. Stark was vicious and reprehensible.  However, to distract the focus of Mr. Stark’s questionable business practices to the shameful coverage of the NYP story is to miss a learning opportunity.

Mr. Stark, by his community’s own admission, a philanthropic pillar of the community, put his life, his family’s life, and even the lives (or at the very least the reputations) of his entire community at risk through his dangerous business associations.  Mr. Stark paid the ultimate price for his gamble – his own life.  His poor family, forever without their husband and father, will now pay the price as well.  His community is also paying a price, and through their online reactions, the cost is high.  They are feeling the sting of having one of their own, photographed in shtreimel and bekisha, plastered all over the news in a way that reflects poorly on the entire kehilla.

Instead of blaming a rag, such as The New York Post, for its predictably sensational and biased coverage, perhaps the reaction should be reevaluating who we (every orthodox faction) rely upon for philanthropy in our communities.  Is the dearly needed money we count on to support our shuls, schools, gemachs, etc. coming from illegal means?  Is it halachically acceptable to receive these funds?  It would seem that any illegal source of funding will eventually be exposed and halted.  Is the resulting chillul Hashem worth a few good prosperous years?  What kind of financial foundations have we built our communities upon?

As a young Jewish girl, I was exposed to all the buildup of the Christmas season, but never experienced the pinnacle of the celebration.  It’s the story of many secular Jews who grew up with public school Christmas pageants, art projects, round the clock radio Christmas caroling, and television specials – only to light a menorah instead of a tree at sundown.

One yearly favorite cartoon was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.  I was fascinated by the Island of Misfit Toys.  The movie also refers to it as the Island of Unwanted Toys.  King Moonracer, the ruler of the island, searches the world for misfit toys that no one loves.  He brings them to the Island of Misfit Toys until he can find loving owners for the homeless toys.  A toy is never truly happy until it is loved by a child.  However, the king stipulates that the island is not for living things. Unlike playthings, a living thing cannot hide on an island.  He asks that Rudolph and his friends tell Santa about the unwanted toys on the island.

As an adult, I can’t help but make an analogy between those broken toys and broken people.  I live in a world where to admit to being broken is to ruin your chances of a shidduch, yeshiva acceptance, community acceptance, and in some cases, acceptance as a fellow Jew.  So we all walk around taped, stitched, and glued hoping that the fixes will hold until after the bar mitzvah, after the graduation, after the vort, after the chasanah, after our kids are all married, after it won’t matter anymore if people know we are broken.

Those who have been labeled defective are essentially cast away on The Island of Misfit Toys.  The island doesn’t necessarily occupy a physical space, but a virtual one.  It’s the invisible herding of those who don’t pass muster into a shadowy Bermuda Triangle of ostracization.  It’s a place where no living thing can survive for very long.

It might not be overt enough to initially notice, but when a child inexplicably isn’t accepted into the yeshiva of their choice, or a shidduch suddenly falls through after the required phone inquiries, a family knows they have been evacuated to the island.

The problem is, the island population is growing at a rapid pace and land is at a premium.  In some areas, the slightest blemish can banish you to Misfit Island.  Not using a white tablecloth on Shabbos, having a child with special needs, a family with secular extended relatives, an off the derech child, any history of mental illness or addiction, an acute case of appendicitis – all of these reasons and more can be used to justify fear of rejection or the actual rejection of others.

With the growing set of rationales used to diminish others, most of us qualify for residency on The Island of Misfit Toys.  Although the island started out as a club no one wanted to be a part of, its population will soon equal that of the mainland.  In another decade or so, residents of The Island of Misfit Toys will number more than those with gold seals of approval.  The population of perfect people will dwindle as halachically suitable (if not hashkafically and materialistically suitable) partners will have been banished abroad.

In the meantime, the Island of Misfit Toys will expand onto other islands as more people take up residency.  Instead of a desolate landscape of woe and misery, new Olim will find established settlements. Unwanted toys will find happiness, love, and acceptance of both their own imperfections and those of others.  Simultaneously, the mainland of perfect toys will become increasingly empty and paranoid, as residents strive to avoid banishment to the isle of defects.  An island they have been warned about since birth; an island to which others must be sacrificed, so that the majority can avoid the dark sentence themselves.

In recent weeks I have been noticing a running theme.  It seems that many of us in the orthodox community have two faces.  One is the face we show to our community.  The other is the face we show to the rest of the world.

It’s not uncommon to have two faces.  Jews and non Jews alike have many masks that we switch into depending upon the occasion.  For example, the face we display at a job interview is not the same face we show our friends at a Purim seuda.  The face we show our teachers is not the same face we show our parents.  The face we show on a first date is not the same face we show to a spouse of twenty years.

If by “wearing faces” we mean adapting our behavior appropriately depending on the setting, that seems healthy.  However, if we only behave and act civilly when we are on display, it’s inevitable that the false face will slip.  There is only so long a person can put on a show before their true nature reveals itself.

To a large extent, social media has stripped of us of our ability to mask our true identities.  No one knows this better than politicians who are, quite literally, caught with their pants down.  During elections, promises are made and forgotten.  However, in the age of the 21^st century sound bite, nothing is forgotten.  A politician’s every move, good or bad, is recorded for posterity and spread like a virus in the media.

As with most secular social trends, public mask slippage is only just starting to hit the orthodox community.  Before now, yidden didn’t need to monitor the way they spoke about non Jews or non frum Jews in front of their pals, students, or community.  They could rant and rave until the cows came home about goyim, shiksas, or shkotzim when they were speaking to members of their own club.  In the outer world, they wore the respectful mask of appreciation for diversity.  It was all good.

Likewise, a person could be an upstanding frum community member, but a ruthless jerk in their secular place of business. No one in their circle of friends or family would be any the wiser that they were considered pond scum by colleagues and clients.  It was a fairly easy performance to pull off, back in pre social media days.  However, the dance has gotten much more sophisticated and we in the frum world have yet to learn the steps.

I remember back in the day, when I was becoming frum, I would attend shiurim where I was told – do and the belief will follow.  Keep shabbos and you will be shomer shabbos.  Eat kosher and you will be shomer kashrut.  Dress like a frum Jew, people will treat you as a frum Jew, and pretty soon you will be a frum Jew.

The problem with that theory is that it only works if you commit 100%.  If I kept shabbos only when I was staying by frum Jews, but at my own home I didn’t, keeping shabbos wouldn’t stick.  If I ate kosher with my kosher friends and treif with my non Jewish friends, again, the commitment to keep kosher all the time wouldn’t be there.  If I only dressed tznius at shul or around frum folks, but not around secular people, it would be hard to make that complete commitment too.

As frum Jews, when we talk and behave one way in an orthodox setting and a different way in a secular setting, we do a disservice to ourselves and our own personal growth.  We need to merge our two worlds into one and be consistent in how we present ourselves.  Heck, I have more respect for someone who is a jerk in both the frum and secular communities, than for someone who plays a tzadik in one and a devil in the other.  Even if we don’t want to remove our masks, social media is doing it for us.  It’s time to get real and own who we really are and how we really feel.  If that thought brings apprehension, then maybe it’s a message that we each need to reevaluate our own behavior.

The other day I was reading a post by Rebecca Ross in her area of expertise – deceptive kiruv practices.  Rebecca’s message is that some kiruv organizations are not up front with their mission to mekareve unaffiliated Jews into orthodoxy.  When kiruv workers initially approach unaffiliated Jews (often young students in high school or on college campuses), they offer them everything from food, in some cases drink, holiday meals, shiurim, low cost trips to Israel, and socialization with other unaffiliated Jews.  Upon this initial approach, there is no mention that their goal is to make them orthodox.

In the post mentioned above, Rebecca quotes a source from Rabbi Mattisyahu Salomon of Aish HaTorah’s Project Inspire, that says,

“…“there can be no compromise” in observance and in the Torah.

Salomon goes on to say that:

“At the same time, becoming observant requires drastic changes in a person’s life, and in many if not most cases, it must be accomplished gradually, step by step.”

That sounds reasonable. The fact that Salomon recognizes that becoming orthodox is a drastic change is good. However, he continues on to say the following:

“But you must make it clear to the people that halfway measures are not acceptable as a permanent state. They are no more than intermediate stages on the way to full observance. There is no rush, no pressure. They can take their time and progress at their own comfortable pace. But they must recognize that the goal is full and complete observance of the entire Torah.””

Basically, there comes a point in outreach, after a potential recruit is “hooked,” where the kiruv professional must make it clear that halfway measures are no longer enough.

This got me thinking about the recent spate of Haredi rabbis who have begun to make a name for themselves on the Modern Orthodox speaking circuit.  Rebecca Ross often talks about how some kiruv workers will initially use popular music and slang to appeal to their subjects; music and language that wouldn’t be allowed in their own homes, nor will it be allowed in the homes of those they finally mekarev. However, the end justifies the means for the purpose of kiruv.

Similarly, some rabbis attempting to spread their right wing viewpoints to a more liberal crowd, speak and dress in a way that will be appealing to their audience.  They might reference popular music, movies, commercials, or television programs.  Instead of eschewing the internet, they might make sophisticated use of social media tools to spread their message and make connections with new followers. Instead of wearing chassidic or haredi levush, these rabbis might don an Italian double breasted suit and tie.  Instead of an unkempt never-shaved beard and long payos, they might sport short payos, a trimmed beard, or a clean-shaven face.

While their pop culture references, online engagement, and more modern appearance might result in some push back from their own communities, the end justifies the means if they can spread their message to a larger audience.

Courting the Modern Orthodox communities can have a big payoff.  Modern Orthodox communities tend to comprise more college educated professionals who are “earners not learners.”  Speaking engagements at Shabbatons, Pesach resorts, and retreats can bring in a nice income.  Aside from parnassah considerations, those rabbis who truly feel that they embody the correct hashkafah, are eager to spread their emes to those who live by the “halfway measures” mentioned earlier.  Often these types of rabbis are loud, aggressive, and tend to use shock value to grab the audience’s attention.  In some cases, their speaking methods may have alienated some folks from their own communities, and so they have another incentive to branch out elsewhere to places where they are relatively unknown.

It’s hard to say why some in the Modern Orthodox community are susceptible to these “Evangelical Haredim.”  In some ways, it seems that we are almost apologetic for our interactions with larger society.  While we go out of our way to do the hard work enabling us to blend both of our worlds, there still seems to be the underlying guilt or doubt that haredi society comprises true Torah Judaism.  In my opinion, that’s one of the reasons behind the phenomenon of some Modern Orthodox machers giving the bulk of their tzedaka to Haredi institutions.

Rabbi Salomon’s quote regarding a limit to how long “step by step” observance will be tolerated is being played out on a larger scale in Israel.  In my opinion, the recent brouhaha over the Chief Rabbinate rejecting the rabbinic credentials of Rabbi Avi Weiss, is a symptom of this attitude.  In Israel, the rabbinate is controlled by Haredi rabbis, who for years, have accepted the testimonies (on the status of marriage, divorce, conversion, being a Jew from birth) of rabbis affiliated with the RCA (an organization that includes many Modern Orthodox rabbis).  Now, we see that the tolerance level for those rabbis who are too “assimilated” into modern culture are being called into question.  While the Chief Rabbinate in Israel will point to a lack of central authorization for American rabbis, you don’t see them rejecting the credibility of, for example, an Agudath Israel rabbi.

Rabbi Weiss drew the ire of both Haredi and Modern Orthodox rabbis alike for (what else?) his endorsement and ordainment of women as orthodox religious leaders.  His initiative, Yeshivat Maharat called into question his adherence to both halacha and mesorah.   However, the controversial Rabbi Weiss isn’t the only rabbi on the confidential Chief Rabbinate’s black list.

While it is unknown exactly who and how many American rabbis are on the “no fly zone” for the Chief Rabbinate in Israel, an additional Modern Orthodox rabbi has come forward announcing that his testimony has also been rejected.

Hebrew Theological College alumni, Rabbi Scot Berman has also been deemed unacceptable by the Chief Rabbinate. Gary Rosenblatt from The Jewish Week reports –

“Now another North American Orthodox rabbi with none of controversial baggage of Rabbi Weiss has come forward and expressed indignation that he, too, was found to be unacceptable to the Chief Rabbinate for the purpose of verifying that a young couple he knows well is indeed Jewish.

“I’m outraged that I would be disqualified,” Rabbi Scot Berman told me this week. He received his ordination from the Hebrew Theological College (known as “Skokie yeshiva”) in Chicago and has had a three-decade history as a Jewish educator in Orthodox schools.

Rabbi Berman has been a principal and administrator at several Orthodox day schools, including the Rabbi David Silver Academy in Harrisburg, PA, the Ida Crown Academy in Chicago, the Kushner Academy in Livingston, NJ, and the Yeshivat Ohr Chaim Bnei Akiva school in Toronto, where he now lives.

The Chief Rabbinate said he lacked the tools and skills of a congregational rabbi…………

…. Rabbi Berman, a member of the RCA, said he shared the news of the Chief Rabbinate’s decision about him with the group’s leaders and colleagues during a meeting in Toronto last month. “No one responded verbally,” he said.

He chose to step up now, in part, so that the community could understand that the issue is about far more than Rabbi Weiss, who is initiating a lawsuit against the Chief Rabbinate for questioning his credibility as an Orthodox rabbi. (Rabbi Berman does not plan to take such action at this time.)”

Apparently, now is the time for the Modern Orthodox to stop their “halfway measures” and begin the ultra orthodox version of “full and complete observance of the entire Torah.”  If not, their fate is to be sidelined, at least in Israeli religious courts, along with Reform, Conservative, and Reconstructionist rabbis.

————————————————————————————————————

If you want to voice your concerns over the growing disaccreditation of Modern Orthodox rabbis by the Chief Rabbinate, you can send a letter of protest to -

The Honorable Chief Rabbis of Israel

Rabbi David Lau and Rabbi Yitzhak Yosef

Yahav House, 80 Yirmiyahu Street, Jerusalem, P.O. Box 36016, Postal Code 91360

Tel: 02-5313114, Fax: 02-5799361

or

The Chief Rabbinate:
Phone: +972-2-5313-114/3
Fax: +972-2-5377-874
Website/email: http://www.rabanut.gov.il/

I don’t have American contact information in English.  If anyone does have such contact information, let me know and I will post it here.

The other day I was remembering a piece I wrote many years ago for an email listserv group.  I thought it was for mail-jewish, but I couldn’t find it in the archives.  It’s possible it was posted to a Shamash listserv specifically for Jewish women in the early 90s, because I believe I wrote it around 1994, when I started covering my hair.  While I got married in 1993, I didn’t immediately observe kisui rosh.

The concept of hair covering was foreign to me, and I couldn’t imagine facing my non-frum family, friends, and co-workers wearing a head covering.  I felt that if the common custom of the majority was not to cover their hair, then I didn’t need to cover mine.  I later learned that the only majority that counted in matters of tznius was that of the orthodox population who kept those laws, and not the secular population.

While to this day, I still haven’t been able to internalize that the hair of a married woman is the erva equivalent of other normally covered private parts, I’ve come to personally accept that hair covering for a Jewish married woman is a halachic mandate.  The minhag of how much to cover and the type of covering worn can vary by community.

Anyhow, back to my old celebratory article about why I decided to cover my hair.  I really wish I could find a copy because it could be Exhibit A of the euphoria a baal teshuvah experiences upon taking on a major observance.   I waxed poetic on all of the modern day rationales given as to why a married woman must suddenly hide her own hair from public view after her wedding day (basically it’s now something special between you and your husband, just like all of the other naughty bits).  I think I mentioned something about cat calling construction workers no longer being a problem?  Don’t ask. Remember folks, crack is whack.

All I know is that a good friend of mine was visiting a shul in California, and my post about hair covering was tacked onto their bulletin board!  I guess my cheerleading must have been inspiring to other women either considering covering their hair or validating to those who were already committed to the practice.  1, 2, 3, 4 buzz that hair onto the floor!  5, 6, 7, 8 trim that wig and wear it straight!  Did I mention that I used to be a cheerleader in junior high?

At the time, I needed books, classes, the support of other hair covering women, and all the platitudes I could find to justify and bolster my decision to cover my hair.  I needed a wide variety of head coverings to fit every occasion, ranging from the comfortable but frumpy (snoods for those Friday night dinners at home), to the lightweight and summery (colorful scarves), to the stylish and imperceptible to the public eye (sheitels or falls for work, weddings, or when I just wanted to have the appearance of hair).

The first time I looked at myself in the mirror wearing a snood, I felt like crying.  It seemed that I was looking into a magic mirror, whose glass reflected an image at least 10 years ahead into the future.  To a 24 year old, that’s pretty ancient!  I thought that it must be harder for someone still young to cover their hair and purposely make themselves appear less attractive.  Although much is said about the hypocrisy of expensive wigs looking nicer than the wearer’s natural hair, I never found that a wig looked nicer on me than my own hair (when it’s styled, of course).

Today, as a middle aged matron, I find that my youthful assumption was mistaken.  When you are young, you can look good with a dishrag on your head.  When you are older, you have fewer physical charms, and hair is often one of them.  From a vanity standpoint, I actually find it more difficult to cover my hair today than I did back when I was in my early 20s.

I read a recent post in the Times of Israel, where a kabbalistic feminist talks about taking control of her sexuality by covering her hair with a turban.  I say, whatever works to inspire a woman to keep this mitzvah is fine by me.  Truly, hair covering is not for the faint hearted – especially if you weren’t raised with the practice.  It’s a gigantic undertaking that changes both how you see yourself and how the world sees you.  Contrary to the hype, this isn’t always going to be a positive thing.

Like it or not, you are now a representative of the orthodox Jewish community.  Are you tempted to snap at the deli clerk serving that customer who clearly arrived after you?  If you’re wearing a turban, forget about it!  Did you stumble across a $10 bill outside the grocery store?  Sure, pick it up and consider yourself ten bucks richer.  However, realize that to anyone who saw you take the bill, you’ll be viewed as a hypocrite too religious to let a single strand of hair show, but not so religious that she won’t slyly pocket someone’s lost money.  What about going to a movie, a football game, a bar, a play, a comedy club?  What’s a tichel wearing lady doing at any of these venues in the first place, you ask?  Well, that’s what wigs are for, people!  That’s right, wigs are to women what baseball caps and payos tucking are to men.  Deal with it.

I digress.  Hair covering is no longer something I romanticize.  It’s more of a practical obligation these days.  Sometimes I don’t even think about it, and it isn’t a burden.  Other times, like when I’ve just had my real hair done at a salon (a rare treat), only to squash the stylist’s artistry under a tichel before leaving the building, it’s a real tircha.  I won’t even get into covering in hot humid weather, headaches from the vice-like grip of a wig, or the hair pulling from combs and bobby pins.  The platitudes only carry a woman so far before practical realities kick into gear.  In the final analysis, for those who believe, the rationale for why married women cover simply boils down to, because the Torah says so.

“Our lives are not determined by what happens to us but by how we react to what happens, not by what life brings to us, but by the attitude we bring to life. A positive attitude causes a chain reaction of positive thoughts, events, and outcomes. It is a catalyst, a spark that creates extraordinary results.”

-Anonymous

I was looking for inspirational quotes today after a tough training session.  My exertions highlighted just how far I still have to go to regain strength and mobility in the leg I broke last October.  The training assessment also highlighted just how far I’ve fallen from my prior state of physical fitness.

I’ve been remembering someone I haven’t thought about for awhile.  A lifetime ago, in the 1920s, there was a pretty young woman who had the whole world before her.  She was a painter, and her parents and twin sister proudly hung each piece of artwork she brought home from class, until the walls were heavy with oil colors.  Her favorite subjects were rabbis.  Something about the far off look in their eyes, the non-earthly aura that surrounded those learned men, captivated her interest.

While too prim and proper to be an outright flapper, she was definitely a woman of a new era.  With her stylish bob, face powder, and red lipped pout, she must have turned more than a few heads in her heyday.  Certainly, she was not a woman fated to be crippled in a random and senseless car accident.

It was all rather stupid, really.  A father left his car running with his young son still inside.  As he went about his errands, his son slid into the driver’s seat and shifted the car into gear.  Just at that moment, the young artist attempted to dash across the street between two parked cars.  Unbeknownst to her, one of those cars was at the mercy of a young boy, whose feet couldn’t quite reach the pedals.  While she escaped with her life, one of her legs was crushed, and she suffered a permanent limp.  In those days, being “lame,” was a blemish.

Her self confidence plummeted, and she became shy and withdrawn. She continued to paint as a hobby, but all thoughts of a career in art were abandoned.  She was eventually matched to an equally shy and introverted man, and they lived in the home of her sister and her family for the majority of their marriage.  That woman was my great aunt.

It’s late at night, and my optimism is never at its best when the moon is slicing through my window slats. Everything seems to look brighter in the morning. At least, that’s what I’ve told myself hundreds of times and been rewarded with another sunrise to add to my growing collection. As this day, dead of all hope and prospects, draws to a silent close, the anticipation of tomorrow’s newborn sun brings a measure of hope.

I also find some comfort in Rebbetzin Feigie Twerski’s explanation of the origins of the name, Israel -

“Historically, the name “Israel” conferred upon the Jewish people, after the epic battle between Jacob and the Heavenly representative of the evil forces of Esau, derives from the word “soriso” (you struggled). The verse reads, “You struggled with God and with man and you were victorious.” It is noteworthy that the exalted designation in the name “Israel” is not derived from the word denoting victory but from the root that connotes struggle. It is the struggle that God values.

It is precisely the exertion, the anguish and the living experience that transforms us. Thoughts and feelings alone, as important as they are, do not suffice. We live in what our sages refer to as the “world of action.” Behavior and deeds are what modify and define us. It is in the doing that we draw on resources deep within us to actualize what heretofore was mere potential.”

I know that thoughts, prayers, and wishes alone will be insufficient to fully heal and regain my overall health.  I must match those feelings with physical actions to achieve a complete recovery.

Growth is painful.  A person perfects themselves not by side stepping that pain, but by walking through it.  Our character, our faith, our very beings are forged in fire.  We are shaped and refined by the extreme heat of doubt and uncertainty.  Some people melt under the pressure, while others cool and sharpen into a more formidable blade.