Searching for Authenticity

 

What do these pictures have in common?  Read on!

Rabbi Aharon Leib Shteinman (pictured on the left) died just before Chanukah at the age of 104.  He was a Chareidi rabbi and posek in Bnei Brak, widely regarded as the Gadol Hador (Leader of the Generation) of the non-Hasidic Lithuanian Jewish world.  Born in Brisk, he escaped the Nazis by fleeing to Switzerland and was the only member of his family to survive the Holocaust.  Rabbi Shteinman, along with several other rabbis, was a driving force in the expansion of the Chareidi community.  At the same time, he was also known as a more moderate voice in his community, lending quiet support for those who decided to leave yeshiva for IDF service or to pursue secular studies.

Following his passing, the most common attribute mentioned about Rabbi Shteinman was his humility.  “Ten people at my funeral would be enough,” wrote Rabbi Shteinman in his will.  When he immigrated to Israel shortly after World War II ended, Rabbi Shteinman received a stark, no-frills mattress from the Jewish Agency, par for the course for Jewish immigrants at the time.  He used it until 2012 when he needed a new one for medical reasons.

Several hundred thousand people attended his funeral.

This showing far exceeded his wish of only 10 people at his funeral.  In recent years, the funerals of other gedolim (Torah greats) such as Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach and Rabbi Ovadia Yosef also drew huge crowds.  Such attendance reflects the stature and impact of these revered sages.  When do we ever see so many Jews come together?  I wish it would happen for something related to Jewish living and not only a response to dying. 

On the day after the funeral, Razi Barkai, a popular Israeli radio presenter on Galei Tzahal began his daily show with a short monologue.  Barkai often begins his show with a tirade against the ultra-Orthodox community, but this time, he took a different tone: 

Yesterday, it took me two hours to get home from the studio, a journey that normally takes me just 20 minutes.  I was furious and cursed the delays.

But I saw crowds of thousands of young and old people who parked their car at the side of the road and set off toward Bnei Brak on foot, walking 10 or even 15 kilometers.  It was obvious that they would not get to the funeral on time, but nevertheless they decided to walk, even though they knew that they would have to walk the same distance back to their cars.

It was a surreal scene, and at the same time an awe-inspiring one...

…my curses turned into a kind of jealousy for this devotion.

Sivan Rahav Meir, Israeli TV host and popular Torah teacher, notes that even people whose lives are so completely different from that lived by Rabbi Shteinman can identify with the values he espoused during his life: simplicity, study, perseverance, sensitivity, and gentleness.  People find it gratifying to discover that such personalities still live among us.  It is a welcome contrast to the headlines we often read about corruption, egocentrism, materialism, and shallowness.

People who generally only have negative things to say about Careidi society, suddenly, for one day, are in awe and even jealous of their values.

Why?

I believe the answer has to do with our appreciation or even longing for authenticity.

What is authenticity?

One definition is “Not false or copied; genuine; real like an authentic antique.” Another is that something is authentic when it is “has an origin supported by unquestionable evidence; authenticated; verified like an authentic document of the Middle Ages or an authentic work of the old master.”

Today, there is so much that seems inauthentic and difficult to verify.  Facebook.  Fake news.  When we encounter something that transcends such uncertain categories, we just know it is authentic, and we crave this.

In addition, as we hurtle into the future, there is often nostalgia for the past.  We find ourselves thinking of “the good old days” or simpler times.  Vintage clothing is popular.  Young people often listen to the music of a generation ago.  Vinyl records are popular again!  These “relics” of the past resonate. They’re just…authentic.

How about Judaism?  What is authentic Judaism?

Tradition.  Torah.  God.  Chesed.  Acts of kindness.  Performing mitzvot because we are commanded to do so.  Having a mission.  Being a part of something larger than ourselves.

Authentic Judaism is found in the feeling we get when we realize we have participated in a holy activity.  Studying a text.  Shaking a lulav.  Lighting a Chanukah candle.  Going to shul or a shiva home.  Feeding the hungry.  Making someone smile.  Doing something that our ancestors would do and feeling like we are being true to their legacy.

At moments like these, we feel authentically Jewish.

Despite all of our differences today, just 250 years ago, we were all on the same page!  Various segments of the Jewish community have taken Judaism in all sorts of directions since the dawn of the Enlightenment.  Some of these new directions have been great and others not so great.  For still others, the jury is still out.  Yet, every Jew – regardless of background, education, or affiliation – has the wellspring of authentic Judaism from which to draw.

While the ultra-Orthodox community of Rabbi Shteinman lives more exclusively in the traditional arena, authentic Judaism is there for each and every one of us for the taking.

Jewish authenticity is found in our history and tradition.

Even for Jews who don’t normally engage in or appreciate this kind of authenticity, sometime, it just comes out and expresses itself.

Radio host Dennis Prager has observed, “I’ve been in many Jewish homes.  I’ve noticed that Reform Jews often adorn their homes with much Judaica and Jewish art.  I often will find a painting of dancing Chassidic Jews on their walls.”  [He goes on to note. “I’ve also been to the homes of many Orthodox Jews who have a lot of Jewish art.  I have never seen paintings on their wall of dancing Reform Jews.”]

Jews know authenticity when they see it or feel it, and there is a desire to express this feeling. 

Sometimes, like when a Jewish leader who has made a huge impact dies, everyone feels that connection – even those who are far removed from Judaism being a major part of their lives.  Sometimes, the latent desire for authentic Judaism reflects itself in the choices of the paintings on the walls or in times of crisis, sadness, or celebration.

We need to make the conscious decision to engage in authentic Judaism.  We need to encourage others to do so.  We need to talk about this issue so that it becomes something real for us, our families, and the Jewish community.

Authenticity may take on different images.  It may be a venerated religious figure or a traditional religious scene.  Far more important than what authenticity looks like is our seeking out an authentic Judaism that captures the best of Torah and tradition.  How’s that for a 2018 resolution?

Chanukah's Gift to All Humanity

I have had a most illuminating and interesting Chanukah so far!

Last night, I shared some Chanukah and seasonal insights at the AIPAC Connects Holiday Party.  This initiative of AIPAC attempts to build bridges with communities that haven’t traditionally had a relationship with Israel and create more allies for a strong US-Israel relationship.   

  

The Jews in attendance were a very small minority, but the Chanukah spirit was strong.

The AIPAC event came on the heels of a Chanukah celebration in our home with an imam and two Evangelical pastors and their families.  I know – A rabbi, two pastors and an imam walk into a room…

 

I met these clergymen on my recent visit to Rabat, Morocco to participate in a gathering of rabbis, imams, and Evangelical pastors from 20 US cities coming together to get to know each other better and find ways to work together and enhance peace, coexistence, and mutual recognition.  It was wonderful having Imam Talib, Guy, and Taylor over for latkes and sufganiyot and to meet other’s families.  It was even more wonderful to hear how Chanukah has such powerful resonance for people of different faiths.

This makes sense.

Jewish law states that the most appropriate time to light Chanukah candles is at sunset.  However if for whatever reason it is not done at sunset, the Talmud states that one can light Chanukah candles “until there are no more pedestrians coming back from market.”  The Talmud goes on to explain that that the very last people to go home from the market were the “Tarmoda’i,” merchants who sold small twigs to other merchants as firewood.  One is allowed to light Chanukah candles so long as these Tarmoda’i have not made it home yet.

What is fascinating to note is that according to Rashi, these Tarmoda’i were not Jewish.  It emerges that the criteria for lighting Chanukah candles is not necessarily that Jews should see the Chanukah lights.  So long as any individual – Jew or non-Jew - would see the Chanukah candles, one has fulfilled the obligation to publicize the miracle of Chanukah.  The question is why does it help to publicize this Jewish miracle to non-Jews?

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik suggested that the victory of Chanukah deserves the attention of the non-Jewish world as well.  As opposed to other celebrations of victory and salvation (for example- Purim), on Chanukah there is no indication that the physical lives of the Jewish people were at stake.  Rather the threat that the Maccabees encountered was an existential, spiritual one.  To fight for one’s life is something that all people would do - even animals use their instincts to fight for survival.  In the battle of Chanukah, however, the Jews fought with similar vigor to defend their right to live Jewish lives.  That is something that not everyone understands.  Jews and non-Jews need to recognize that values are worth fighting for, even worth dying for.  It is this aspect of the story and victory that is appropriate to publicize to all - even non-Jews.

           

As we celebrate Chanukah, let us ask ourselves: What are the values and causes for which we are willing to fight?  If we cannot think of any causes that we feel such passion for, then we need to look at the Chanukah lights a little longer for some inspiration.

The Blessing to Speak Out & the Purpose of Protest

ראה אנכי נותן לפניכם היום ברכה וקללה

See, I present before you today a blessing and a curse. (Devarim 11:26)

The Torah goes on to explain that the blessings and curses result from our choosing to follow God's commandments and live a life of purpose and meaning.  

This week, I understand the verse differently.  

Each of us has the responsibility to see both the blessings and curses around us.  There is tremendous goodness and opportunity for making a positive difference and, simultaneously, the opportunity for evil and hatred to rear their ugly heads in the world around us. 

The events of the past week in Charlottesville, VA prove this premise so vividly.  The murder of Heather Heyer and the ensuing fallout are powerful demonstrations of the curses in our midst. 

Where are the blessings?

We still have many blessings.  We live in a great country which affords us many freedoms to live Torah lives of purpose and meaning.  We have a State of Israel which provides an additional path for our religious and spiritual lives to flourish.  We have the blessings of family, friends, community, and (hopefully) health.  

We also have the blessing to be able to choose a path of tolerance and love and promote this path to anyone around us who will listen.  We have the blessing to speak out. 

We must speak out against the hatred in Charlottesville and all forms of hatred.  We need to protest the rising hatred and intolerance of the right as well as the left. We should expect - and demand! - moral clarity from the President and all of our leaders as well as ordinary citizens.  

Is speaking up enough?  Will anyone listen to the protest? 

It's a start. 

Elie Wiesel tells the following story that sheds light on the purpose of protest.  ("Words from a Witness", p. 48)

One day a Tzadik came to Sodom.  He knew what Sodom was, so he came to save it 
from sin, from destruction.  

He preached to the people.  "Please do not be murderers, do not be thieves. Do not 
be silent and do not be indifferent."  

He went on preaching day after day, maybe even picketing. But no one listened.  

He was not discouraged. He went on preaching for years. 

Finally someone asked him, "Rabbi, why do you do that? Don't you see it is no use?" 

He said, "I know it is of no use, but I must.  And I will tell you why: in the beginning 
I thought I had to protest and to shout in order to change them.  I have given up this hope. Now I know I must picket and scream and shout so that they should not change me." 

We have to remind ourselves there is hatred - even if we cannot change all minds and hearts.  We need to talk about this hatred with our family, friends, and community.  We need to protest in whichever forum we can access.  At least, we will ensure that we stand firm in our commitment to love, tolerance, and respect. 

This Shabbat, one organization is promoting an initiative to encourage Shabbat table discussions about values and morality.  I think it's a fantastic idea!  We need to speak and educate ourselves, our families, and our communities about these topics which are often taken for granted and don't get the headlines they deserve.  If not us, then whom?

See the blessings and the curses.  Embrace the blessings and speak out against the curses.  We may not change the world, but we will strengthen ourselves and each other. 

Food for Thought this Tisha B'Av (Since You Can't Eat)

A few years ago, my son asked: Why do we fast on Tisha B’Av?  He knew the answer is to commemorate the destruction on the Beit HaMikdash.  What he was really asking was, “What is the relevance of Tisha B’Av for us today?”

Tisha B’Av was established because of the tragedies and difficulties of the past.  But what about the present?  We have Israel.  Things are far from perfect everywhere, but Jews have it better today than any time since the Temple stood.

So, why DO we fast and recount the tragedies of the past and sit low to the ground?  How does Tisha B’Av relate to us?

Our Sages were aware of this issue. Here are three statements of the Sages in which they teach how the Temple’s destruction may be relevant for all time.

1)  The Talmud in Berachot 32b states in the name of Rabbi Elazar:

מיום שחרב בית המקדש נפסקה חומת ברזל בין ישראל לאביהם שבשמים

From the day that the Temple was destroyed, a wall of iron has separated Israel from their Father in Heaven

The Temple was an inspiring location, one in which daily miracles occurred.  When the Beit HaMikdash stood, if you ever questioned the existence of God or God’s role in your life, you could go to Jerusalem and feel God’s presence.  That was one of the purposes of the three pilgrimage festivals on which everyone would go to Jerusalem: to recharge the spiritual batteries.

What about today?  Where should we go when we have religious questions or feelings of doubt? 

On Tisha B’Av, we need to come to terms with a more challenging religious environment.    

2)  The Talmud in Sota 48a states:

מיום שחרב בהמ”ק – אין יום שאין בו קללה           

From the day that the Temple was destroyed, not a day goes by without some sort of curse.

There is pain in the world: the pain of those who are ill, isolated or marginalized.  There is the k’lalah of rising anti-Semitism around the globe and uncertainty that many Jews endure.  There is the continuing danger to Israel from all kinds of threats.  There is insecurity here in America: violence, inequality, a loss of morality, and a sense of being adrift. 

On Tisha B’Av, we have the opportunity – the responsibility – to confront that pain and resolve to address it the best we can.

3)  The Midrash states:

מיום שחרב בהמ”ק נתמעט השלום

Since the day that the Temple was destroyed, peace has been diminished

The modern Jewish community is noteworthy as much for our dwindling affiliation rates as we are for our divisiveness, strife and discord amongst the Tribe.  I don’t think I need to (or want to) list the ways in which our community disagrees.  It is so unfortunate that it takes a mortal threat for Jews to put aside our differences.

On Tisha B’Av, we are reminded just how divided and fragmented we can be.

Tisha B’Av has always been about much more than the Temple.  From the time of the Temple’s destruction, we have faced the complexity of religious experience, the curses, and the loss of peace.

If we have difficulty mourning the historical tragedies, their reverberations provide plenty upon which to reflect and be sad on Tisha B’Av.

There is another event that took place on Tisha B’Av.  According to the Sages (Midrash Eicha Rabba 1:51), Mashiach was born on Tisha B’Av.

What does this mean?  It is not an historical event or an aspiration.  The intent is that every year, Tisha B’Av generates a new impetus for redemptive action.  In addition to mourning that which has been destroyed, Tisha B’Av is a time to rebuild.

May this Tisha B’Av usher in different types of building:

A building of our spirituality and connection to God

A building of peace: within our families, our community, and the world

A building of lives committed to mindfulness, emotion, and responsiveness

This kind of Tisha B’Av observance will bring each of us that much closer to redemption. 

Radiohead, The Kotel & We Need To Talk

I am in Jerusalem participating for a second summer in the Shalom Hartman Institute’s Rabbinic Leadership Initiative (RLI), which brings together 26 North American rabbis of different denominations to study together and explore some of the critical issues facing Judaism and Israel today.

There’s a lot going on in Israel.  (When is that not the case?)  

On Wednesday night, the British rock band, Radiohead, played a sold-out concert in Tel Aviv.  It was a big story as the group had been under intense pressure to cancel the concert over Israel’s policies regarding the Palestinians.  Radiohead responded to the pro-BDS pressure campaign that their playing in Israel does not signify approval of the government’s policies.

I can’t say I’m a fan, but Radiohead’s Thom Yorke made a great point that can apply to the harsh disagreements which seem to always “rock” the Jewish community.

Music, art and academia is about crossing borders not building them, about open minds not closed ones, about shared humanity, dialogue and freedom of expression.

Why can’t Judaism and Jewish ideas - even divergent ones - accomplish something similar?

It seems like Jews cannot tolerate that others have differing views.  If there is ever going to be progress or even just civility in the Jewish community (or in any community), we need to start having less shouting and more talking.  Our communities need to stop making comments about “the other” and start finding ways to engage each other.

Recently, the Israeli government suspended an agreement to expand and enhance the area near the Kotel for non-Orthodox prayer services as well as to appoint an interdenominational commission to oversee the area.  It was a terrific compromise for a very complex issue, and it was abandoned due to coalition politics.

This decision angered the leadership of much of the Diaspora Jewish community and has led to an angry war of words between both sides.

Does the suspension of the Kotel Compromise really mean that the State of Israel doesn’t care about American Jews?  Can’t reasonable Jews disagree over the propriety or importance of egalitarian prayer?

Chareidim are intent on denying any ounce of legitimacy to non-Orthodox Jews or, really, any Jews with whom they disagree.  They should try and understand where non-Orthodox are coming from instead of writing them out of the Jewish people.  Non-Orthodox Jews should try and understand the utra-Orthodox position as well as recognize how the average Israeli may not view egalitarian prayer at the Kotel as an important issue.

I get it.  I think the Israeli government decision is terrible.  I think there needs to be a path for non-Orthodox Jews to express themselves religiously in the State of Israel.  I think the Chief Rabbinate is deeply flawed and in need of replacement.  

At the same time, I want to move forward.  There is too much anger surrounding these issues and not enough appreciation for the need for genuine conversation and mutual respect.

There are many areas of disagreement in the Jewish world.  Reasonable people can disagree about the importance or necessity of an egalitarian prayer space at the Western Wall.  How Judaism confronts the changing dynamics of relationships, family life, and sexuality in the modern word are complex issues.  At the same time, is anything positive accomplished with shouts, insults, threats, or exclusion?

The appropriate response is to engage.  

The Talmud (Eruvin 13b) famously teaches that the bat kol (heavenly voice) sided with Beit Hillel in their disputes with Beit Shammai.  Even though “eilu v’eilu divrei Elokim chaim - these and these are the words of the living God,” the law follows Beit Hillel.  Why is this is so?  If both sides are the words of the living God, why follow one and not the other?  The Talmud answers that Beit Hillel would study and teach both their opinion and that of Beit Shammai, and moreover, they would teach the view of Beit Shammai before their own.

We can be committed to our own views, but we are more effective when we include consideration and discussion with those who maintain an opposing view.  It worked for Beit Hillel, and it can work for us.

Dr. Tal Becker is a fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem and also serves as principal deputy legal adviser at the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs.  As a senior member of the Israeli peace negotiation team, he is no stranger to disagreements.  He quotes the Rambam (Guide for the Perplexed, Part 1, Chapter 5) that a person “should not decide any question by the first idea that suggests itself to his mind, or at once direct his thoughts and force them to obtain knowledge of the Creator…”

Humility and patience are important traits in our intellectual endeavors and should also be brought to our arguments.  We shouldn’t view our disagreements as zero sum exercises with one side winning and one side losing.  Becker writes:

We should want a Jewish debate that reflects the pluralism, complexity and contradictions of our tradition and experience.  And we should engage in argument, not mainly in order to persuade, but in order to refine and broaden our understanding.  This does not mean the argument should be any less rigorous, or that poorly reasoned positions should not be weeded out.  It means that the objective of an argument is to learn and not to win. It is a pedagogical exercise, not a competitive one.

Professor David Hartman, founder of the Shalom Hartman Institute, had a similar approach:

My desire is to speak to all Jews.  This does not mean that if I speak to them, I legitimate them...I talk with Jews because if I do not talk with them, I cannot influence them.  And not only do I talk to them, I also listen to them.  For if they do not feel that I listen to them and take them seriously, they are not prepared to listen to me.

(“Judaism in a Secular Society” in Orthodoxy Confronts Modernity, p. 27)

The battles being waged in the Jewish world will not be won with angry pronouncements.  They won’t be won at all if they are viewed as battles that need to have winners and losers.  We should not focus on who screams louder or makes the more outrageous or even heartfelt statements.  

The path forward is pretty simple.  In the words of the late Joan Rivers, “Can we talk?”

Each of us should find someone with whom we disagree and ask them to explain their position.  Don’t let our understanding of opposing positions come from the most egregious quotes and soundbites that make it to the media.

In addition, we would benefit from exploring issues in greater depth.  What are the sources relating to the Kotel or conversion or the Middle East peace process?  Might there be legitimate reasons behind the views of those with whom we disagree so vehemently?

The issues we face are the future of Judaism.  We need to start a conversation between differing worldviews about what matters to each of us.  We need to have the humility to acknowledge there are views which differ from our own.  We need to open our hearts to those with whom we disagree in order to deepen our commitment to our own values.  This can lead to a better understanding between people and genuine progress towards creating a positive relationship between different segments of the community.

Let’s stop shouting past each other and begin engaging with one another.

Reading "Right to Left" on Intermarriage

Golda Meir had many interactions with Secretary of State Henry Kissinger during and after the Yom Kippur War.  The Prime Minister marshaled many reasons for assisting Israel - the country’s geo-strategic importance, its promotion of democracy, its attitude toward the Soviet Union, but she also appealed to Kissinger’s identity as a Jew.

Unimpressed, Kissinger responded, “I would like to inform you that I’m first an American citizen, second Secretary of State, and third a Jew.”

To which Meir replied, “In Israel, we read from right to left.”

I often quote this story in discussing the weakening of Jewish identity and connection to Israel.  For example, a recent headline in the Times of Israel proclaimed, “Jewish Millenials Putting Zionism Second and America First.”  

Do we let our modern values shape our outlook?  Do we read “left to right?”  Or deep down, does our Judaism guide us?  Do we read “right to left?”

Regardless of ritual observance or politics, a strong connection to Judaism or Israel requires looking at the world through Jewish lenses.  As with all of life’s decisions, we may choose to ignore or veer from that Jewish perspective, but Judaism needs to be the deeply rooted starting point if it is to remain an important part of our identity. 

More and more Jews – sincere, well-intentioned, and passionate – view the world from “left to right,” with an outlook that is mainly guided by their Western and not Jewish values.

I believe that reading “left to right” or “right to left” is at the core of the recent trend in rabbis questioning and abandoning the longtime opposition to intermarriage.

Judaism does not permit a Jew to marry a non-Jew.  In addition to being against Jewish law, it harms the Jewish future.  Regardless of the cases where children of such marriages possess a strong Jewish identity, such stories are the exception and not the norm.

As strongly as I oppose intermarriage, I welcome any family that seeks a portal to God, Torah, Israel and the Jewish people.  I encourage all forms of Jewish identity.  It is not my place to tell someone whether they are Jewish.  I cannot validate the status or officiate at a wedding unless the standards of Jewish law are met, but I welcome all Jews - and interested non-Jews - seeking to explore Judaism.

The move by rabbis who advocate a commitment to Jewish law and tradition to officiate, religiously celebrate, or validate intermarriages saddens me.  To hear sentiments that this shift is “grounded in Jewish tradition and inclusiveness” or motivated by an “unwavering commitment to the Jewish future” indicates that Jewish leaders are increasingly reading from “left to right.”

I understand the motivation.  More and more Jews are marrying non-Jews.  How can we keep them at arm’s length and tell them we respect and love them while not validating their marriages?  I don’t want to withhold a “mazal tov” from a cherished congregant whose child is marrying someone who is not halakhically Jewish.

But Jews need to read “right to left.”

There are standards.  Judaism makes demands of us. 

This week, we read about Korach’s rebellion, his challenge to Moshe’s authority.  Korach had a valid point.  He claimed that everyone is holy.  Why should Moshe claim all the authority?  According to the Midrash, Korach also highlighted the inconsistency and absurdity of Jewish law.  If the mezuzah signifies a Jewish home, shouldn’t it be unnecessary on the doorway of a house full of Jewish books?  Why should a blue tallit require a blue strand on the tzitzit fringes?

There are great questions!

Judaism doesn’t always make sense.  Korach tried to read the Torah from “left to right.”  Jews must read from “right to left.”

The challenge for modern Jews is to find authentic Jewish pride and passion in being Jewish.  Without a deeply-felt emotional connection – without reading from “right to left,” Judaism will lose out to American, Western, or progressive values.  These values can be positive ones, but they must not be allowed to overshadow or supersede our Jewish values.

Rabbi Ephraim Buchwald, a pioneer of Jewish outreach and engagement and director of NJOP, recently spoke of the need to be passionate about Judaism.  He said: “If you want moderate children, be passionate.  If you take a moderate approach to Judaism, your kids will be causal.  If you are casual about Judaism, your grandchildren will be Episcopalian.”

Rabbi Buchwald said this to make a point.  We cannot predict the future.  What I am certain of is that casual Jews are not living the kind of Jewish life that will likely inspire the next generation of passionate Jews.

We need more Jews living and teaching an authentic, serious, passionate Judaism.  We need to more clearly recognize that our mission in this world is anchored in God’s Torah and not Western values.  Sometimes, we need to say no, to stick to our standards, and act in ways which don’t make sense.

We need to read from “right to left.”