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
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?
