Thursday, December 28, 2017

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?

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