National Scholar Updates

Questions of personal status are among the most sensitive issues in Judaism and thus require responsible rabbinic leadership.
That is one reason why there was such an outcry last year when Israel’s Chief Rabbinate refused to allow my teacher, Rabbi Avi Weiss, to vouch for the Jewishness of a couple marrying in Israel. While the Chief Rabbinate ultimately backed down and agreed to accept Rabbi Weiss’ word, there are still unanswered questions regarding this episode.

On Jan. 4, 2014, the Rabbinical Council of America — a leading Orthodox rabbinic association — issued this statement: “Recent assertions that the Rabbinical Council of America advised the Chief Rabbinate of Israel to reject the testimony of RCA member Rabbi Avi Weiss are categorically untrue.”

The problem with this statement is that when I visited the chief rabbi’s office with Weiss’ attorney, we were told directly that the chief rabbinate was acting upon the recommendation of RCA officials.

We may not know who is telling the truth in this case, but we do know that the RCA has not been candid about its recent approach to conversion.
In 2007 the RCA drafted a new centralized policy on conversions. This policy brought conversions under the auspices of a new and more stringent approach. At the time, there were some who warned that this new policy could lead to retroactive annulments of previously accepted conversions.

But the RCA protested loudly that it would never retroactively reject conversions and that to do so would be a blatant Torah violation. In 2008, the RCA’s Rabbi Steven Pruzansky dismissed suggestions that the new policy would lead to the reevaluation of all past conversions by RCA rabbis as “an especially despicable falsehood, as it serves only to make generations of converts in the Jewish community anxious about their status and acceptance in the community at large.”

“The reality is that not one past geirus is being reviewed by the RCA or the Beth Din of America, and such was never contemplated,” he wrote, using a term for conversion. “To even suggest otherwise is to blatantly violate the Torah’s numerous admonitions against tormenting the ger.”

Yet we now know that the RCA is casting aspersions on prior conversions by its own members. We know this thanks to Karen Brunwasser, who last month wrote about her personal ordeal in The Washington Jewish Week.
Brunwasser spelled out how, despite her Orthodox conversion nearly 35 years ago, she was rejected by the Israeli chief rabbi’s office in her initial attempts to establish her Judaism and thereby marry her beloved fiancé. She wrote movingly of the emotional turmoil she went through and how she was concerned that it might affect forever her relationship with the new family she was hoping to join.

The RCA, through its Beth Din of America, played a crucial role in actively hindering Brunwasser’s effort to marry.

Brunwasser converted as an infant with a beit din made up of Orthodox rabbis who were graduates of Yeshiva University’s rabbinical school and RCA members. Rabbi Bernard Rothman, a former RCA vice president, wrote a letter to the chief rabbi’s office vouching for Brunwasser’s conversion. In this letter, Rothman praised the head of the beit din that converted Brunwasser, Rabbi David Wachtfogel, as an Orthodox rabbi of the highest standards.

However, as was the case with many RCA rabbis of that era, he was for a time a rabbi in a synagogue in which men and women sat together. Many of these rabbis took jobs at synagogues with mixed seating after receiving explicit guidance on the matter from Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, mainstream American Orthodoxy’s leading authority.

In the past, conversions by Orthodox rabbis who had served in mixed-seating congregations were routinely accepted in the Jewish community. But now, thanks to the direction of the current leadership of the RCA, such decades-old conversions are being rejected.

Thus, on Aug. 11, 2013, Rabbi Michoel Zylberman of the RCA’s Beth Din of America wrote the following in an email to Israeli chief rabbi’s office regarding Brunwasser’s conversion: “We are unable to approve the conversions done by a rabbi who serves in a synagogue without a mechitza.”

Zylberman continues: “Of course, one can argue with this position and if you want to be lenient here on the basis of other authorities you can do that which is right in your eyes.”

Responding to apparent confusion on the part of the chief rabbi’s office regarding Rothman’s current status with the RCA, Zylberman concludes: “With respect to the letter of Rabbi Rothman in which he is signed as a ‘former Vice-President of the RCA,’ that was twenty years ago and he did not sign in the name of the organization.”

Despite what the RCA promised in 2008, it is retroactively negating and rooting out converts who were for decades fully integrated into the Orthodox Jewish community. In doing so, it has set a dangerous precedent that should make every convert afraid and all of us angry and disappointed in its leadership.

A few years ago, I spoke about domestic violence on Yom Kippur. Afterward, two very sweet members of my synagogue came up to me and said, "Rabbi, you shouldn't speak about such ugly things from the pulpit. That doesn't happen here."

I thought to myself, "Two rows behind you and a little to the left, it does."

Domestic violence happens in Jewish homes. This article is the reopening of the conversation, because we need to confront this issue. I wish we didn't have to. But this isn't only an issue in the Catholic Church. It is much closer to home than we'd like to admit.

Abuse happens within Jewish families. Physical and verbal abuse happen in Jewish families.

We don't like to talk about what is ugly and painful. We feel shame in revealing our less than perfect family lives. We don't want the outside world to know. We don't want each other to know. So we remain silent. But we are hurting. Some of us are suffering, right here, in our midst. Others inflict deep pain upon those they claim to love.

Victims of abuse can be women or men, young or old. It has been suggested that, on average, Jewish women stay in abusive relationships for five to seven years longer than non-Jewish women, primarily because they don't want to believe that Domestic Violence happens to Jewish women.

There are aspects of traditional Judaism, present even in modern congregations, that maintain the weak position of the victim in the face of abuse. Here are two:

1) Some rabbis have invoked the Jewish ideal of "shalom bayyit," of maintaining peace in the home, as justification for sending a woman back to her abuser. Some rabbis continue to counsel this way, and have only served to disempower suffering Jews.

2) A get, or Jewish divorce decree, by Orthodox law, can only be issued by a man, who can torment his partner with the get's legal power and its control over the wife's future. This makes the vulnerable woman an agunah, a chained woman, trapped by Judaism's rules.

These two aspects of traditional Jewish life are problems. They make victimization possible within Jewish families, and they must be changed. We must take the deeply Jewish step forward and, together, condemn abuse of any kind in our community.

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Abuse can be physical, sexual, verbal or emotional. It can come in the form of the ongoing use of demeaning words like "you're stupid," or ugly, or crazy. It can be total access to and control over bank accounts and finances. It can be threats to injure children or pets. It can be monitoring and limiting friendships, going out, talking on the phone.

Domestic violence is not about having a bad temper or being out of control. It is about power and control—one person exerting power and control over another. Domestic violence impacts on the entire family, injuring also the children who witness abuse by hearing it or seeing it.

I offer two anonymous testimonies from Jewish victims of abuse. One is physical, and might help those in verbally abusive relationships say, "Oh, that's not me." But the second is a case of verbal abuse, perhaps even harder to escape.

1) "The Jewish Community sees my husband as a respected professional who is educated, talented, outgoing, friendly, loving, caring, and compassionate. They were not witness to what took place in the privacy of our home. No one saw him hit, kick, and choke me. No one heard him tell our child, 'Mommy's dead.' No one was present when he threatened to commit suicide in the presence of our child, wipe me off the face of the earth, and promised that I would not survive the night."

2) "I have a boyfriend who is charming to everyone, a real mentsch, sharp thinker—and everyone around looks up to him. So you can understand how I feel alone in how I am feeling, since everyone thinks so highly of him. It's difficult to talk to him about anything because everything I say is either "stupid" or "crazy." Sometimes I have to lie because I'm afraid of how he'll react to certain things. I don't mean to ramble—today was just a bad day. He says it's my fault that the relationship is going south. I know I have to distance myself from the relationship but, honestly, I don't think I can."

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We bear witness to these anonymous testimonies, wondering whether or not people sitting near us are in similar situations. We wonder, perhaps, what to do with the inescapable knowledge that there is, most likely, someone reading this article who is hurting.

So how do we do that? We can turn to halakha, Jewish Law, for guidance. The following is a brief summary of a lengthy teshuva, a Jewish ruling, by Rabbi Elliot Dorff, entitled "Family Violence (HM 424.1995)":

1) Beating and other forms of physical abuse, such as sexual abuse, are absolutely forbidden by Jewish law.

2) Verbal abuse is absolutely forbidden by Jewish law.

3) An abuser has the responsibility to acknowledge his behavior and do teshuva by getting help.

4) Parents may never cause a bruise to their children, no matter what decisions they make regarding corrective parenting.

5) Children may not beat their parents, even when parents were formerly abusive themselves.

6) The requirement that one preserve not only one's own life (pikkuah nefesh) but others as well, demanded by the laws of the pursuer (rodef) and of not standing idly by when another is in danger (lo ta'amod al dam ra'ekha), not only permit, but require others who discover spousal or parental abuse to help the victim report the abuse and take steps to prevent repetition of it. Jews who suspect that children are being abused must report such abuse to the civil authorities, no matter what the consequences. Saving a life takes precedence over the presumption that parental custody is best for the child.

These policies are halakhically binding. They are not optional. We are commanded by our tradition to protect ourselves and to intervene when necessary for others. There are times when it is necessary to act to protect the vulnerable.

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Opening up darkened spaces is a scary, saddening task, but it is a sacred one as well. We've been taught by our tradition that "anyone who saves one soul, it is said about her that she has saved a whole world” (TB Sanhedrin 37a).

And one person's safety is reason enough for us all to spend the energy talking about abuse.

Perpetrating violence on an intimate partner is an affliction with a spiritual dimension that threatens the welfare of the entire community. We act with commitment to the health of our community when we hold abusers accountable. We act in accordance with halakha's call to pursue justice when we declare that abusers cannot remain in our midst and must dwell outside the camp.

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The fabric of our Jewish homes is tradition's instruction to create spaces of safety. The fabric of our homes is our Jewish ethics, which demand that we pursue justice. The fabric of our homes is our developing liturgies and holy days, which call upon us to heal and create wholeness in our world.

For the welfare of both the individual homes we are blessed to have, as well as the collective one we create together, I pray that we commit ourselves to doing so.

May our homes be safe and healthy.

When our Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals was established in October 2007, we knew we wanted to publish a journal--but did not know how we could make this happen.

But then we met Mr. S. Daniel Abraham.

Mr. Abraham immediately understood the need for an Orthodox journal that was high quality, open to new and diverse ideas, and challenging to readers. He promptly "invested" in our Institute, and became the founding "angel" of our journal, "Conversations."

The first issue of "Conversations" appeared in spring 2008. Thanks to Mr. Abraham, we were able to publish and circulate thousands of copies to readers throughout the world. The reception was so positive that we expanded the format of "Conversations" so as to include more articles and generate more reaction.

"Conversations" has been appearing three times per year, and has always been published on schedule. In the spring of this year, we will be coming out with our 19th issue!

We know from the responses of many readers that "Conversations" has had a powerful impact in the community. It has literally changed lives for the better; it has brought readers a vision of an Orthodox Judaism that is intellectually vibrant, compassionate, and inclusive; an Orthodox Judaism that respects legitimate diversity of opinion; an Orthodoxy that has a message for Jews of many backgrounds and viewpoints.

As we complete work on issue 19 of Conversations, we express our profound gratitude to Mr. S. Daniel Abraham for his friendship, support and encouragement. Without his "investment" in our Institute's work, "Conversations" would have simply remained an empty dream. With his investment, thousands of lives have been impacted positively and meaningfully.

Hazak uvarukh, Mr. Abraham. Thanks for being the founding patron of "Conversations" and for setting an example for generous, principled and visionary leadership.

Review by Israel Drazin
A Synagogue Companion, by Rabbi Hayyim Angel
Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, 2014, 351 pages

Rabbi Hayyim Angel is a scholar who writes very readable, interesting, and informative books. He presents “a vision of the Torah that is authentic, passionate,
reasonable, and embracing of people of all backgrounds.” He exposes the plain meaning of biblical texts. He raises thought-provoking questions. He shows that many biblical
books do not state what people think they state, and surprises and delights readers by revealing what the Bible actually says.

In his Synagogue Companion, Angel, the National Scholar of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, has brief essays of no more than a page and a half on the 54
Torah portions and the readings from the prophets that are recited with these portions, and short to-the-point articles on many prayers.

Starting his discussion of the Five Books of Moses, for example, he talks about the “clashes between the literal reading of the Torah and the findings of modern science.”
He quotes and explains Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, “the verses do not pretend to teach us science, but rather spiritual ideas,” and Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz that the idea that God “descended on Mount Sinai to compete with the professor who teaches history or physics is ludicrous, if not blasphemous.”

When speaking about the trees in the Garden of Eden, Angel tells us that “Professor Umberto Cassuto found that nearly every ancient mythology had a tree, a
plant, or a fountain of life. The quest for immortality was an obsession of the ancient world.” And Angel shows how this information helps us understand the depth of the Garden of Eden story.

The Bible gives no reason why Moses shattered the Decalogue, and many scholars offered their ideas. Rashbam thought that Moses was tired and dropped them
since he lost the energy to carry them. Nechama Leibowitz disliked his view: “Rashbam, a literalist par excellence, veers far from the plain sense here. There is no clue in the
text for his interpretation.” Professor Elazar Touito of Bar Ilan University suggested that Rashbam was engaged in an anti-Christian polemic. He was denying the medieval
Christian claim that Moses destroyed the tablets to show that God’s covenant with Israel was cancelled. Rashbam deflated this argument by stating in essence: no, he dropped the tablets by accident.

Rabbi Angel mentions the view of Malbim to contrast and later explore the differences between the leadership of Moses and his successor Joshua. When Moses had an experience of God at the burning bush in Exodus 3:5, he removed both shoes. When Joshua had a vision of the presence of an angel in Joshua 5:15, he stripped off a single shoe. “Shoes symbolize human involvement in the world. Jews are required to remove their shoes while in the Temple precincts and also on Yom Kippur to elevate themselves to the level of angels.” Moses reached the highest level. But according to Malbim’s analysis of Joshua’s “one sandal on, one sandal off” leadership he “had one foot in Moses’ ideal world of prophecy, but at the same time kept the other with his people.” Yet, his shortcomings “enabled Joshua to succeed as a leader in a manner that even his master could not.” Moses suffered continually from Israelite dissatisfactions, but Joshua never faced his people’s discontent.

Among much else about the Torah, Angel discusses the enigmatic, indeed incredible longevity of the early biblical people; the apparent revelation that God wanted humans before Noah to be vegetarians, Professor Uriel Simon’s, Joseph Bekhor Shor’s, Yehuda ha-Hasid’s, Abarbanel’s, and Ramban’s explanations why Joseph, who had the ability to inform his grieving father that he was still alive, did not do so; and why the Torah ordered the creation of a hereditary priesthood.

Commenting upon Joshua 2, the prophetical haftarah reading for the Torah portion Shelah, Rabbi Angel points out that the Canaanite woman, Rahab, with whom Joshua’s two spies communicated, referred to God several times when she assured the spies that the Israelites can easily defeat her people and conquer her land. Gersonides felt she was only flattering the spies to seduce them to accept the deal she planned to make with them. However several Midrashim took Rahab at her word; she genuinely accepted God and even converted (Mekhilta Yitro 1 and Deuteronomy Rabbah 2:28). “One rabbinic tradition asserts further that Rahab eventually married Joshua (Babylonian Talmud, Megillah 14b).” Whether one accepts these midrashic statements as historical facts, “our sages make a remarkable point: Someone from the lowest echelon of the most depraved society can convert sincerely and marry a prophet.”

Angel contrasts Rahab’s acts with the misdeed of the well pedigreed Achan of the tribe of Judah who in Joshua 6 and 7 is executed for plundering the city of Jericho against Joshua’s religious ban. The contrast make crystal clear that it is not ethnic or pedigree that is significant, but behavior. “Canaanites such as Rahab who acted righteously were accepted, whereas Israelites who acted wickedly such as Achan were not accepted.”

In his section on prayer, Angel discusses the meaning, purpose, and challenges of prayer; the origin of the leader of the prayers, called Hazan and Sheli’ah Tzibbur; the differences between biblical and pagan prayer; and the meaning of the more famous prayers, such as Shema and Amida. Among much else, he quotes Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik: “The foundation of prayer is not the conviction of its effectiveness but the belief that through it we approach God intimately.”

In short, this book contains a wealth of information presented in a clear and interested manner by a scholar who understands his subject well.

To the editor,

I am writing in response to Rachel Tanny’s article, “Religious Jews Leaving Religious Life,” printed on June 14, 2013, and distributed last week via email.

I was raised in a loving Orthodox household in the wonderful Jewish community in Sharon, Massachusetts. But the intolerance I faced at Maimonides School in Brookline and the disinterest I had in continuing a lifestyle with so many prohibitive restrictions on my interaction with the modern world led me to stop leading a religious lifestyle when I left for college. As I made this decision, and as I have continued to work out how I would like to lead my life and raise a family, I have felt accepted and supported by my religious family, friends, and members of the Sharon community.

Rebbetzin Tanny’s article was written in such a way that it would resonate very strongly with relatives and friends of those who have chosen a different religious path, but the tone of the article — which made it sound as though the relatives of religious-turned-non-religious Jews should actively try and bring them back into the faith — was such that anyone who has decided not to be religious would be turned off simply by reading it. When I read the article, I thought it came across as exceptionally judgmental and patronizing of those who have made the active choice not to continue leading a religious lifestyle. Many of the factors that she listed as justification for religious Jews leaving Orthodoxy were accurate — but she failed to mention that sometimes a person chooses to leave Orthodoxy completely of their own volition, and that there is nothing a relative or a friend could do to prevent it or change their mind.

Rebbetzin Tanny’s article had the right intentions, but it should have given the audience one final piece of advice: that it’s okay if someone chooses to practice their religion in a different way. If the author had written that Judaism is a religion of tolerance and acceptance, and that as Jews we must embrace people for who they are, she would have done a service to religious and non-religious readers alike.

I hold no animosity for people who choose to live a religious lifestyle because for me and others like me, choosing how to live my life had nothing to do with ‘going off the derekh.’ It was about choosing to discover my own.

Ari Massefski, 22
Sharon, Massachusetts

Dear Ari,
Thank you very much for your letter sharing your views on my recent article, “Religious Jews Leaving Religious Life.” Please understand that this article is a mere summary of some of the main ideas in the book “Freiing Out,” written by my husband, Rabbi Binyamin Tanny. In the conclusion to his book, he writes, “This entire book is a summary,” thereby giving rise to the challenge of writing a summary of a summary. I apologize if the tone of the article was hurtful to you in any way.

I am glad to hear you hold the Sharon community with high regard. My husband spent a lot of time with people from there and is in fact an Eagle Scout from Sharon’s Jewish scouting group, which is chartered out of the Brookline school. It is possible you even know some of the same people!

I am sorry to hear you had a troubled time in school, an experience with which you are not alone. Problems in the educational system are quite common among people who choose to leave religious life. Please read Rabbi Binyamin Tanny’s book “Freiing Out” and you will see that there are others like you who have gone through similar – or possibly even worse – situations.

You write, “Sometimes a person chooses to leave Orthodoxy completely of their own volition.” I would not say ‘sometimes;’ but rather, ‘all the time.’ Anyone who leaves orthodoxy does so of their own volition. Those who are confident in their decision and happy with their choice and their new lifestyle will take the credit personally. Those who are angry, frustrated, and unsure will blame others, such as their parents, rabbis, religious institutions, etc.

You also write that “it sound[s] as though the relatives of religious-turned-non-religious Jews should actively try and bring them back into the faith.” The religious person should always try to bring their fellow Jews to the beauty of Judaism. The truly religious and spiritual Jew knows how beautiful a Friday night Shabbat meal with the family can be, how much brilliance is transmitted in the Torah, and how much love their can be in a harmonious community. Why should they not want to share this with their fellow Jews? To not share is to not care.

Finally, you say you “hold no animosity for people who choose to live a religious lifestyle.” I am happy to hear this because part of our religious lifestyle is to spend time every day finding Jews who have not experienced a beautiful Judaism and actively try to bring them back. They may not like us for this, but we are okay with that because as long as they feel some irritation there is still a fire burning.

Thank you again for your letter and my husband and I both wish you a peaceful and meaningful life that you find spiritually and emotionally fulfilling.

Rebbetzin Rachel Tanny

Four idealistic religious social activists started making the rounds among rabbis and other religious leaders four years ago, to see if perhaps they were missing something. Assaf, Chili, Efrat and Shmuli had grown up together in Jerusalem, been through the religious youth movements, yeshivas, army — but they were troubled. Times in Israel were difficult. Of course they were concerned about the recent Intifada and the security situation, but they were equally concerned about internal social problems: steadily rising poverty, trafficking in women, employment rights. These problematic trends were beginning to characterize their beloved country. And they could not understand why there were no organized efforts or cries of protest from the official rabbinic community, or efforts spearheaded by their own religious spiritual mentors. Where was the voice of Judaism on these issues? Thus was born the concept for a new organization in Israel, Bema'aglai Tzedek, to address the numerous social ills in Israeli society in connection with the millenia-old Jewish ethical traditions, which speak of Tzedek and Tikun Olam. These young and dynamic religious activists strongly believe that Jewish tradition has essential ideas to contribute to the current socio-economic discourse in Israeli society.

And this organization is making waves. Slowly, some rabbis are starting to acknowledge and try to deal with these issues. But why so few, and where were their voices beforehand, and where are their colleagues’ voices now, both here in Israel and in North America?

In Reform synagogues throughout North America, the voices from the pulpits talk about social justice, civil rights and other such issues. Why are these basic humanitarian issues not being regularly addressed from Orthodox pulpits? Surely humanitarian ideas do not conflict with deep-rooted Jewish values. Where is our concern for the commandments regarding social justice repeated many times in the Torah, such as "You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. You shall not afflict any widow or orphan" (Ex. 22:21-2), or "If there is among you a poor man, one of your brethren, in any of your towns within your land which the Lord your God gives you, you shall not harden your heart or shut your hand against your poor brother, but you shall open your hand to him, and lend him sufficient for his need, whatever it may be"(Deut. 15:7-8).

I don't pretend to have answers to why the religious community has separated itself from issues relating to civil rights and social justice. In the current socio-political environment these values have become associated with the secular left. But it is unclear why that has happened. Assaf Banner, the director of Bema'aglai Tzedek, said that when he and his friends started talking the social justice lingo, people were surprised: “We didn't fit the stereotype of the secular Tel Aviv Ashkenazi with round wire glasses…."

When I discussed these issues with a colleague of mine, an intelligent young woman who grew up in the Reform movement in upstate New York, but is now a newly married, religious, head-covering Jerusalemite, she theorized that “halakhic imperatives emanating from the rabbinic tradition stipulate various laws aimed at preserving Am Yisrael, using the strategy of social isolation: inflexible kashrut laws, prohibitions against consuming alcohol in ‘mixed company’, etc. This isolationist approach has given way to the development of an Orthodoxy that is self-absorbed, ethnocentric, and the sociological backdrop to the stunted growth of social justice initiatives in the Orthodox community.” This seems to me a very important insight into our present situation, coming from someone who once sat on the other side of aisle, as it were. And it echoes certain thoughtful academic voices as well. As Menachem Lorberbaum, Chair of Hebrew Culture Studies at Tel Aviv University and a Senior Fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute, told me: "Part of the problem is that there is no sense of Jewish peoplehood in Orthodoxy, no appreciation of the depth of diversity of Jewish people." He sees Orthodoxy as very insular, and legitimacy has become more important than substance.

Can it be that the Orthodox establishment is more worried about punctilious and zealous application of halakha, and keeping Jews separate from the rest of the world, than about enacting the elemental responsibility to uphold the dignity and basic rights of the disadvantaged and the weak? Why do the two have to be mutually exclusive?

Don’t get me wrong. I am not suggesting that the Orthodox religious community shows no concern for others. On the contrary, the commitment of Orthodox Jews to Hesed and Tzedakah is on whole exemplary. The ultra-Orthodox community takes care of its own, in a well-organized fashion, somewhat reminiscent of the institutionalized welfare-community infrastructure outlined in chapter one of the Talmudic Tractate Baba Batra. However, it seems that although the Orthodox community certainly practices Tzedakah with a laudable passion, the institutionalized and almost bureaucratic welfare state described in the Talmud has not been adopted.

There is a difference between Tzedakah and Tzedek. This distinction becomes critical in the context of the Jewish State. Tzedakah helps to ease an immediate urgent situation in a specific case, but does nothing to solve the deep-rooted social ailments which are the root of the problem.

Rambam's Tzedakah ladder is well-known. The highest degree of charity, the 8^th level, requires strengthening the hand of one’s poor Jewish brother and giving him a gift or [an interest-free] loan, or even entering into a business partnership with him. In other words, we must help a poor person to get on his feet, so that he can break his dependency and progress on his own. In the context of the Jewish State, perhaps there is a level that is even higher – a 9^th level which requires an institutionalized effort to eradicate poverty, to budget sufficiently to help the weakest citizens adequately, to enforce minimum wages and affordable health-care.

In the summer of 2003, when a series of budget cuts in Israel slashed welfare allocations, the single parents were among those hit hardest. Their summer vigil in an improvised tent-city outside of the Knesset attracted tremendous attention from the media and ultimately from the decision-makers themselves. But where was the organized rabbinic response as this group of (mainly) women fought for the State to help them provide food and shelter for their children? There was silence. This proposed 9th level requires proactive efforts for social change: if the government does not act, its citizens must raise their voices in protest; civil society organizations should not take upon themselves the State's responsibilities.

At the recent opening of a new Center for the Study of Philanthropy at Hebrew University in mid-March, the keynote lecture was delivered by Professor Leslie Lenkowski from the Center on Philanthropy at Indiana University. Although he did not refer to a 9^th rung on the Rambam ladder, he did speak of the 8^th rung, using the classic metaphor of "not just giving the fish, but teaching to fish, and… perhaps even reforming the fishing industry." Interestingly, in the second chapter of Baba Batra, in a discussion of fair business practice, detailed regulations are provided relating to the fishing industry that essentially allow for equal access to fish for all fishermen. This chapter could well be cited by Orthodox voices of social conscience here in Israel and abroad. North American Orthodox philanthropists who generously give to Israel tend to have a knee-jerk, negative reaction to social advocacy organizations – even while fervently supporting the soup kitchens, or their favorite Yeshivas and orphanages. Those causes are indeed extremely important and worthy; but is the exclusive focus on such service-providing charities really in the spirit of Rambam's highest rung?

Bema'aglai Tzedek is running numerous programs to try to wake up the religious Jewish community to the need for strong Jewish advocacy, Tzedek (and not just Tzedakah). Together with Bet Morasha they run a Bet Midrash Program that brings Rabbis and religious leaders together to study texts and develop Jewish responsa to social issues. Rabbi Benny Lau, nephew of the former Chief Rabbi, Israel Meir Lau, has been one of the main teachers in this program. Another leader active in these efforts is Rabbi Yuval Cherlow, Rosh Yeshiva of the Yeshivat Hesder in Petach Tikva and one of the leaders of "Tzohar" (an Israel-based group of religious Zionist Rabbis trying to shape the Jewish identity of the State of Israel, according to principled understanding and moderation). Rabbi Cherlow recently published an article in a journal, “An Introduction to Questions of Social Justice in Halakha."

Among its many interesting activities, Bema'aglei Tzedek's most innovative move thus far has been the creation of the "social seal" (Tav Hevrati). This plays on the authority and status of the required Kashrut certificate. Businesses (mainly restaurants), have to live up to certain standards of employment rights, disabled access, minimum wage, in order to receive the "social seal," which they are then entitled to display in their window. The "social seal" in Israel has caught on and is now prevalent in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Kfar Saba and Be'er Sheva. In the same way that customers routinely ask to see a Kashrut certificate before buying products or services, they may now confirm that a business has conformed to the standards of the the social seal. As Assaf Banner asks, "Shouldn't an observant Jew check first that the eatery has this social seal and then the Kashrut certificate? After all, the social seal concerns requirements that are Torah laws, and a number of the Kashrut standards came only later, as rabbinical laws."

It seems so obvious. I recently came across an article written by Rabbi Haskel Lookstein in 1971, titled "Kosher Lettuce." The reference was to the boycotts on agricultural products that were being harvested by underpaid and abused migrant workers. Given the human rights violations of these workers, he argued that the lettuce was not kosher. Kashrut here has a moral basis. To drive the point home, Rabbi Lookstein cited a moving Hassidic story: “It is told of the great Hassidic sage and saint, Rabbi Simha Bunim, that he once visited a matzah factory and saw the workers there being exploited. ‘God,’ he exclaimed, ‘the gentiles falsely accuse us in a vicious libel of using the blood of gentiles in our matzah. That is false. But we do spill Jewish blood into our matzah--the blood of the exploited workers.’ He thereupon issued a most unusual ruling. He declared the matzah produced under exploitative conditions as being ‘forbidden food,’ i.e. non-kosher.”

In order for social justice to return (and I say return, because I do think it was there in the early stages of the Jewish community, and certainly present in the times of Hillel), there has to be a combination of bottom-up and top-down efforts. The grassroots efforts to establish a society on the great pillar of social justice are many and impressive, but the religious leadership has to get on board, relentlessly teaching their constituents about the importance of social justice as it affects society at large.

Storied Jewish Lives around the World, by Hillel Goldberg

Feldheim Publishers, 2013, 228 pages

Rabbi Hillel Goldberg, an award winning author who has published inspiring Jewish stories for over 45 years, and has authored five previous books, has now given us three dozen well-crafted, easy-to-read, inspiring tales of people who we will admire, people we should emulate.

“There is greatness,” Rabbi Goldberg writes, “not only in well known leaders. ‘There is no person who does not have his hour.’ I have known this person too – the ‘simple Jew,’ the poshuteh Yid – shining in his moment of distinction. I have tried to capture” the greatness of these Jews, and their contribution to those around them.

The rabbi succeeds. His stories are interesting, inspiring, and very moving. He tells of people who lived normal lives, but unexpectedly became angels of God.

Among many others, Rabbi Goldberg tells about Professor Frank Talmage who died at age fifty. Despite being very ill, he devoted himself to what became a classic work on the Bible commentator David Kimchi (1160-1235). Although at times quite ill, he continued to teach and inspire students.

He tells us about Daniel Kravitz who because of kindness to a skinhead neo-Nazi, he was able to persuade him to reconnect with his parents and abandon his neo-Nazi group.

There are also stories of an eighteenth century Polish nobleman who converted to Judaism and surrendered his life for his new religion; a holocaust survivor who died years
after the holocaust with the same pious behavior as his grandfather when he died; and the tale of Werner and Lucie who despite numerous difficulties, including the horrors of
the holocaust, difficulties created by the British when they administered Palestine, and a separation of seven years, were able to remain true to each other, reunite, and marry.

In short, this is an inspiring book that readers will enjoy because the stories are fascinating and because of the positive feelings they will produce when they are read.

The pace of technology grows so dizzyingday by day that it’s likely we’re now living more in the future than we are in the present.What were once mere imaginings of science fiction films -- the “futuristic” landscapes of Fritz Lang’s silent classic Metropolis,the flame-belching towers of Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner, and the gravity-defying dream scapes of Christopher Nolan’s Inception, to name but a famous few-- have proven, in fact, to be visionary. They have become our actual homes, our daily workplaces, our shopping malls and amusement parks. Stepping out of the subway into the digital blitz of Times Square after dark, for example, we might feel much as though we werehurtling headlong into cyberspace itself. Doubtless, we already inhabit a world where, as one modern author has observed, “technology is visceral…pervasive…Not outside us, but next to us. Under our skin; often, inside our minds.” Standing herein the midst of this brilliant, hypnotic, infinitely distracting (and, one might argue, ultimately illusionary)21st century atmosphere, would any of us notice the unadorned glow of a Hanukkiyah, Hanukkah lamp?

I raise the question to make a simple point. As human beings, we are eminently fallible, always distractable. Rabbi Moses Isserles (the “Rema”),in a gloss on the Laws of Prayer (Hilchot Tefillah 101:1),clearly suggests as much when he questions whether we ought to repeat a section of the Shemoneh Esrei if our attention wandered when we recited it the first time.The Rema’sargument is straightforward.What’s to prevent us from being similarly distracted the second time around? Still,though as physical beings we are all of us prone to distraction, as spiritual beings we try to transcend. As Jews in particular, we try to develop a capacity to hone in on a more truthful spiritual realm beyond the often-illusory realm of distractions in the material world. And that is the metaphorical significance of the question about Hanukkah lights in Times Square.

As thinking Jews,with an abiding allegiance to Jewish ideas and ideals,we try to see beyond the big lights of the big city in order to discover a more permanent, a more honest beacon that shines true, no matter how hidden, no matter how small. As thoughtful beings, we come to recognize true worth in the quality of our experience not in its quantity. Perhaps that, too, is what the Rema above is getting at, cautioning us against mere repetition of a blessing without a concomitant unclouded concentration and a meaningful change in spiritual perspective.

In his essay“Maamar al ha’Emunah,”Rabbi Elchonon Wasserman wonders how the great Greek philosopher Aristotle – to whom the Rambam attributed genius just below the level of ru’ach ha’kodesh and nevuah, divine spirit and prophecy – could somehow, despite his great intellect, fail to see past the illusions of the material world. Rav Wasserman concludes that Aristotle’s failing was an overriding attraction to the very physical olam ha’zeh and a consequent reluctance to turn away from its many seductive attractions.

Among the many heirs to Aristotle,committed to the continued transmission of Greek thought and practices known as Hellenism, were the Seleucid Syrians, whose kingdom was established from a slice of the divided empire of Alexander the Great, himself a world conqueror tutored first-hand by Aristotle. It is against these Seleucid Greeks that the warrior Maccabees fought long and hard, their ultimate spiritual victory coalescing into the very essence of the Hanukkah holiday. If we examine the decrees issued against the Jews of the Seleucid Syrian king Antiochus Epiphanes – as traditionally described in the discussion of Hanukkah by the Kitzur Shulchan Aruch (139:1) – we find the inevitable battle lines of Hellenism versus Judaism being drawn. Unsurprisingly, Antiochus sought to annul the Covenant between Israel and its Lord, “And Antiochus decreed prohibitions against the Jews, forbidding them to study and practice their Torah Laws.” The ancient extra-canonical Scroll of Antiochus, Megillat Antiochus,specifies (in verse 11) three gezerot, prohibitions, in particular. The enemy king’s designs were to uproot and eradicate the practice of a) Shabbat, b) Rosh Chodesh, and c) Brit Milah.

What makes this precise choice of prohibitions so pointed, in light of the above discussion, is the symbolic spiritual value they possess. First, the light of the Shabbat candles is analogous to the light of the Temple Menorah rededicated by the Maccabees; indeed, the Talmud itself (Shabbat 21a) introduces this analogy between Shabbat and Hanukkah candles in launching its locus classicus discussion of the Hanukkah holiday. Next, the so-to-speak “rekindled” light of the moon at Rosh Chodeshi s analogous to the renewal of the Menorah’s light after a period of spiritual darkness.Finally, the eight days of Brit Milah are analogous to the Talmud’s description of a tiny cruse of pure oil that, nonetheless, burned by divine miracle for eight days, exemplifying the transcendence of quality over quantity.

This theme of quality versus quantityi s reflected again in the Hanukkah “Al haNissim” prayer, which speaks of“the strong defeated by the assumed-to-be-weak,the many defeated by anacknowledged few.” The small burning “wicks” of Judaism outshone the bright lights of the imperial force of the Syrian army, the spiritual light of the Temple Menorah here dispelled the illusory darkness of the physical, earthbound Seleucid empire indebted in so many ways to Aristotle and Alexander. Despite the variety of traditional and ethnic culinary delights that have come to be associated with the “feast of lights,” there is no chiyuv of seudat mitzvah attached to Hanukkah, no obligatory festive spread. In celebrating the holiday, we acknowledge Israel’s rescue from spiritual annihilation. By contrast, because of the threat of physical annihilation that faced the Jews at the first Purim,we indeed rejoice n that holiday with the mitzvah of a substantive physical meal.

By publicizing the true meaning of Hanukkah, by placing the Hanukkiyah in the public eye – even in Times Square – we appeal to all humankind, Jew and non-Jew alike, to come and share, as an agudah achat,in the spiritual insights the Hanukkah lights afford us. The Talmud itself (Shabbat 21b) affirms this.Beit Shammai, the School of Shammai,maintains that we kindle the Hanukkah lights “keneged pri ha’chag.” The suggestion is that the lights correspond to the mussaf sacrifices of Sukkot that were brought specifically in consideration of the seventy gentile nations, meant to beseech Divine protection of the shivim umot ha’olam as our colleagues and compeers on this earth.

Rabbeinu Bachya ben Asher quotes a midrashic parable on the Torah portion of Beha’alotcha. A king once asked a beloved subject to prepare his home for a royal visit. Rather than flushing with pride, the poor fellow grew mortified. How could he host in his humble cottage a king accustomed to glorious gifts, golden goblets, and bountiful banquets at court?When the king arrived, resplendent in his retinue, the subject nervously fumbled to hide in shame the simple meal he had prepared. Yet, the king declared, “For love of you, my humble servant, I prefer this simple, heartfelt offering to all the artificial trappings my palace provides.”

The lights of Hanukkah are the Jewish nation’s simple offering for all the world to wonder at and reflect upon. They are a gift to God from the heart and soul of the People of Israel. Is it any wonder that the Master of the Universe, Who created at will the blazing sun, the bright moon, the luminous stars and galaxies, nonetheless, like the king in Rabbeinu Bahya’s parable,prefers our tiny, flickering lights of the Hanukkiyah which continue to outshine, from the time of the Maccabees to this very day, the brightest lights and biggest cities of history’s greatest empires.

It’s painful to have one’s rabbinic credentials challenged by the Chief Rabbinate of Israel. But that’s exactly what’s happened to me. In truth, it’s much more hurtful to the many people I’ve been honored to serve over the years.

In recent days, I have been informed that letters I’ve written attesting to the Jewishness and personal status of congregants have been rejected by the office of the Chief Rabbinate. I’m not the only Orthodox rabbi to have his letters rejected – there are others.

I have chosen to go public because the issue is not about me, it’s about a Chief Rabbinate whose power has gone to its head. As Israel’s appointed rabbinate, it is accountable to no one but itself.

Nor could the Chief Rabbinate have denied letters from me or other rabbis without input from select rabbis here in America who, I believe, are whispering into the Chief Rabbinate’s ears. For me, they’ll whisper one thing, for another they will find some other reason to cast aspersions.

This is an intolerable situation. It not only undercuts the authority of local rabbis who are in the best position to attest to the religious identity of those living in their community, but wreaks havoc for constituents whom these rabbis serve.

Penning these harsh words about Israel’s Chief Rabbinate is not easy for me. I grew up in a home that venerated the Chief Rabbinate. After my parents made aliya, my father served as rabbi of Shikun Vatikin in the outskirts of Netanya, Israel. There he worked with Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau, then Chief Rabbi of Netanya who went on to become Israeli’s Ashkenazic Chief Rabbi. Over the years I’ve met with many chief rabbis. I found them individually to be not only learned but caring.

But for some time, I’ve come to the conclusion that the Chief Rabbinate as an institution just doesn’t work. Built into the very fabric of the institution is the principle of kefiyah, rabbis overlording the citizenry, forcing their religious dictates down their throats. Indeed, the Chief Rabbinate has become a subject of scorn amongst the grassroots public in Israel.

Spiritual striving and religious growth can only be nourished in a spirit of openness. For this reason, Israel as a state should give equal opportunities to the Conservative and Reform movements. Their rabbis should be able to conduct weddings and conversions. For that matter, civil weddings should also be recognized by the State. As in America, it should be left to the general public – if they wish, in consultation with their local rabbis – to decide whether to accept or reject these conversions and wedding ceremonies.

Such an open attitude is not only important for non-Orthodox Jewry, but for Orthodoxy as well. When Orthodoxy is presented as the only option, when it’s forced upon people, it turns people off. A spirit of openness will make Orthodoxy more attractive.

A related reason that the Chief Rabbinate does not work is that it involves centralization of rabbinic power, that is, rabbinic power left in the hands of a select few who dictate religious policy throughout the country.

When the Chief Rabbinate years back questioned American Orthodox conversions, an Orthodox rabbinic organization, the Rabbinical Council of America, (RCA), rather than challenge the Chief Rabbinate and say clearly we have faith and trust in our rabbis in the field, capitulated to the Chief Rabbinate, and imported Israel’s failed rabbinic centralized format to the US.

And so they established a system where only a select, relatively few rabbis are permitted to sit on conversion courts, undermining the authority of local community rabbis, and placing unnecessary stumbling blocks before serious potential converts. In a piece I co-authored over five years ago, I strongly criticized this policy.

I predicted then that this would be but the first step towards further centralization. That it would not be long before a centralized rabbinic body fully usurps the authority of local rabbis, deciding which select few can do marriages. And only this body will be able to sign off on letters attesting to the Jewishness or the personal status of individuals from across the country. Is this the type of religious authority we want here in America?

The time has come for the government of Israel – its Prime Minister and Knesset – to pronounce in clear terms that the Chief Rabbinate will no longer have a monopoly on religious dictates of the State. This will present challenges. But these challenges pale in comparison to a coercive and centralized system which is vulnerable to abuse. As the motto goes, power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely.

It’s only in the spirit of openness that Israel as a Jewish democracy will thrive. It’s in that framework that Israel’s citizenry will be able to reach higher heights – spiritually and religiously.
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RCA deal hurts rabbis, converts
By Rabbi Marc Angel And Rabbi Avraham Weiss, JTA, March 10, 2008

(Rabbi Marc Angel is Director of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, the rabbi emeritus of Congregation Shearith Israel in New York and past president of the Rabbinical Council of America. Rabbi Avraham (Avi) Weiss is the senior rabbi of the Hebrew Institute of Riverdale and founder of Yeshivat Chovevei Torah and Yeshivat Maharat.)

NEW YORK (JTA) – The Chief Rabbinate of Israel and the Rabbinical Council of America have concluded an agreement related to conversion that will allow the two groups to work together. This solves a problem that reached its peak when Israel’s Sephardic chief rabbi, Shlomo Amar, announced in April 2006 that he would no longer automatically recognize conversions performed by rabbis belonging to the RCA, the main union of Orthodox rabbis in America.

According to the terms of the agreement, the Chief Rabbinate approved a list of about 15 RCA rabbinic courts and approximately 40 rabbinic judges whose conversions will be accepted. From this point on, only conversions done by these rabbis or tribunals will be recognized. Any rabbi who wishes to be added to that list needs the approval of two leading Yeshiva University rabbis representing the RCA and one from the Chief Rabbinate. The RCA and the Chief Rabbinate also agreed that all conversions previously performed by rabbis, other than the 40, are subject to re-evaluation by the head of the RCA’s Beth Din of America.

This agreement is deeply disturbing on many levels. What is most troubling is that conversions, done years ago with the informal backing of the RCA, are now being scrutinized. This, we believe, strikes at the very ethical fabric of halacha. Over the years, thousands of people have been halachically converted and now they and their children, and for that matter, their marriages, will all be questioned. The pain that this will cause the convert, a person whom the Torah commands to love, will be unbearable.

Indeed, the RCA’s capitulation to the demand of the Chief Rabbinate to scrutinize past conversions done by its members raises the strong possibility that down the line the bar may be raised even higher. Already, the Israeli institution no longer represents the centrist, religious Zionist ideology, but is, in effect, made up of religious appointees of the haredi world. Years from now a new, more extreme Chief Rabbinate may very well pressure the RCA to question “sanctioned” conversions being done now.

Not only is the convert’s status questioned here, but the respected position of the local rabbi is also at stake. The policy sends a clear message that rabbis who have Orthodox ordination and are not among the chosen 40 do not have sufficient knowledge, judgment and wisdom to perform conversions – and they never have.

There is an irony here in that, from a certain perspective, congregational rabbis have a greater understanding of the issues surrounding conversion than those who are primarily situated in the Beit Midrash. These synagogue rabbis who are “in the trenches” with the potential converts have a unique understanding of the situations and conditions that affect their respective constituents. As is displayed on their ordination documents (smicha klaf), these rabbis are sent to spread Torah to their communities and have been invested with the trust, power and weight of our Torah to help shape the Jewish world. This decision undermines their mission.

If this agreement was meant to develop a mechanism of oversight, there are other ways in which this could have been accomplished. One proposal could have been that junior rabbis in their first three years do conversions under the guidance of senior rabbis. Additionally, the RCA could have questioned individual rabbis whom they suspected were doing conversions improperly.

We are not the first to raise concerns about the Israeli Chief Rabbinate. Over the last few years, there have been legitimate and important Orthodox voices in Israel that have expressed opposition to its rightward trend and its hard-line position concerning conversions in Israel. Now, through its deal with the RCA, the Chief Rabbinate is dictating its specific conversion standards to those living thousands of miles away in the United States.

Rather than extend the Chief Rabbinate’s reach to the Diaspora, the RCA should display confidence in its loyal members by declaring that their conversions are valid and acceptable in the eyes of God and halacha. This should be our posture as we move forward together with like-minded voices in Israel.

This was a moment of truth. The criteria on conversion as drafted by the RCA/Chief Rabbinate are the most stringent and do not reflect the range of legitimate halachic opinions. The approach insists, for example, that parents converting an adopted child commit to 12 years of yeshiva education. But suppose parents are only prepared to make an eight-year commitment; suppose they are committed to sending their child to a community day school; suppose, as is a growing trend in our Jewish world, they simply cannot afford tuition; and suppose their child has a learning disability and must be sent to a secular school?

We have received reports that such potential converts have already been turned away. What is next? Will past conversions, such as these, now be nullified retroactively?
If these standards become the criteria for who is a Jew, it means there will be only one voice – enforced by just two rabbis – speaking for Modern Orthodoxy in America.

The first issue is the question of who is overseeing the overseers: What are the criteria for appointment? What makes these 40 judges competent and hundreds of others not? What communities do they represent? Are the appointments based on merit? On politics? On being dedicated students of particular rabbis?

To consolidate so much power in the hands of so few rabbis – whether left, center or right – is a frightening step. Making matters worse, the RCA has chosen as its representatives two Yeshiva University rabbis who speak only for the right-wing of Modern Orthodoxy – effectively abandoning the organization’s trademark commitment to providing a home for both right- and left-wing voices. With its cowering to outside dictates, the RCA appears to have opted to reflect the haredi-controlled voice of the Israeli Chief Rabbinate, instead of insisting that the broad spectrum of Modern Orthodox positions be part of the solution.

What makes this chapter especially sad is that the new arrangement not only undermines the power of the local rabbi as teacher and spiritual guide, but even worse, puts fear into the hearts and minds of many wonderful converts who are upstanding Torah-observant and God-fearing Jewish souls.