National Scholar Updates

“Excuse me for a moment; I need to take this call,” I said to the rabbis I was meeting with at an important convention for Hareidi professionals dealing with practical halakhic issues and public policy. I had just stopped by the convention to meet some of the rabbis who had taught me and mentored me over the years. I was sitting with my main mentor—a Yeshivishe, Litvishe Rav—and his friend, a close associate of some of the Hareidi rabbinic authorities.

What made this moment ironic is that while my mentor and his friend were discouraging me from taking the position of President of Yeshivat Chovevei Torah, the call I received was from the Chairman of the Board of YCT offering me the job! In fact, just that evening, before coming to the convention, I had met with the Board of Directors of the Yeshiva for my final interview. So as I stepped aside, still surrounded by dozens of Hareidi rabbanim at the hotel, I accepted the offer from YCT, fully aware that in some ways I was agreeing to take myself into a different world than where I was standing. In an ocean of black hats, I was committing myself to a modern and open life-boat. But even at that moment of contrast, I still saw myself, and Modern Orthodoxy in general, as paddling in the same direction as the large ship of Hareidi, Yeshivish Orthodoxy. Moreover, I remained hopeful that along the way, there would be bridges from the life-boat to the large ship that would enable passengers in both vessels of Torah to intermingle and inspire each other.

The belief that Modern Orthodoxy, inclusive, open, and connected with the non-Orthodox world, could also connect with Hareidi, Yeshivishe, Hassidishe Orthodoxy animated my decision to take on the presidency of YCT, a relatively new yeshiva founded by Rav Avi Weiss. I had been the rabbi of a rapidly growing (from 90 to 400 members) Modern Orthodox shul in Chicago, and every time I went in to meet the lay leaders and faculty of Yeshivat Chovevei Torah, I made sure to combine the trip with visiting Rashei Yeshiva of my alma mater, Yeshiva University. Some were more encouraging of my interest in YCT, some less encouraging, but all my encounters leading up to taking the job at YCT continued to reinforce within me the belief that as committed as YCT was to a Modern and open Orthodoxy, I could still connect the Yeshiva and its talmidim to the broad world of Orthodoxy, across the spectrum.

In fact, as it was announced that I would be becoming the President of YCT, some well-known rabbis, well-respected in the Hareidi world, said that they were interested in coming to YCT, as long as it was done quietly. These rabbis were interested in discussing kiruv and other pertinent matters with the students because basically, we shared the same goals.

I was quoted in the press as having the sincere desire to reach out and connect with both the “Right and the Left” and to welcome students from the spectrum of Orthodoxy. My experience in Chicago, where both my shul and I had close professional and personal relationships with many Centrist Orthodox and Hareidi rabbis and communal professionals—let alone lay leaders—convinced me that we were all together in this mission of spreading Torah throughout the Jewish world. Certainly there were arguments that justifiably could make me cynical, but I had a lot of evidence that bridges existed, and could be widened, to connect all of Orthodoxy.

Then came the installation. Rav Avi Weiss has been excited and supportive throughout the process of passing on the presidency to me, and with his encouragement and my own excitement for taking on this new role, the Yeshiva planned a gala installation to introduce me to the community. In my own thinking, consistent with the mission of the Yeshiva to train Orthodox rabbis to serve the entirety of the Jewish community, not just the Orthodox community, an installation should include the spectrum of the Jewish community. Yeshivat Chovevei Torah is one of the leading rabbinical schools in America, producing more Hillel rabbis—in various positions—than any other single institution, let alone the dozens of pulpit rabbis and educators in important positions throughout the Jewish community (85 so far).

So it was natural that we invited all the rabbinical schools—from Yeshiva University to Hebrew Union College—to participate in the installation. I had no expectation that every Hareidi or even centrist institution would participate or even attend. I may be passionate about building bridges, but that doesn’t mean every institution or community leader is—that much I recognize. Yet, it was gratifying that Orthodox and non-Orthodox leaders came from all over, together with another 500 people, to celebrate this transition at a Yeshiva, transforming our Yeshiva from a start-up to an established center of Torah. What was interesting—though not surprising—was that much of the Hareidi organized world attacked the bridge-building on the left as a sign that Chovevei Torah was not sufficiently Orthodox. The paradigm that the Hareidi institutional world was presenting, and accepted passively by elements of the organized Centrist world, was that if an Orthodoxy builds bridges with the Left, in an open, respectful way, it will not be able to build bridges to the Right. It is either or: If you want to be part of our type of Orthodoxy, or be in partnership with us, you will have to burn your bridges with the non-Orthodox organized world. No Presidents or Chancellors of non-Orthodox institutions should be on a pre-installation panel discussing the future of rabbinical education; if they are, we do not want to be any part of such an installation. It is either embracing your Orthodox friends and rejecting any respect or honor for the non-Orthodox, or we have no desire to connect with you.

Upon reflection, the strong reaction to placing non-Orthodox rabbis on a stage to be given respect and honor at an Orthodox ceremony could have been expected. Genuine and justifiable fear has built up in the Orthodox world for more than two centuries toward heterodox movements. There is fear that they are out to destroy Torah, mitzvoth, and Judaism as we know it. Indeed, this might have very well been the case in the past: Reform leaders spoke out against the “cult” of ritual in Judaism; Conservative leaders erected synagogues that had mixed seating and called for serious changes to halakha in a process unfamiliar to the Orthodox world. Reconstructionist Judaism represents the teaching of Mordechai Kaplan who rejected the Orthodoxy he grew up in. Perhaps if many of the open and inclusive Modern Orthodox leaders who are pluralistic would have been rabbis 100 or even 50 years ago, they would not have been able to build the bridges to the non-Orthodox world that we can build today.

The fear of the non-Orthodox world is understandable, but it is anachronistic and the wrong approach. Not only do the non-Orthodox movements espouse Torah and mitzvoth—albeit in their own unique ways—they are gateways for thousands of Jews to find more commitment to Torah and mitzvoth. These Jews who find Judaism and Jewish life through the non-Orthodox movements and non-Orthodox leaders, frequently are then drawn to Orthodoxy as well. The competition with non-Orthodox movements will only help Orthodoxy grow stronger, rather than pose a threat. More importantly, the opportunities that non-Orthodox movements provide for Orthodoxy, as far as outreach and connection to diverse Jewish populations should make us Orthodox Jews grateful for the other movements. In fact, placing Orthodox and non-Orthodox leaders on a stage, anywhere, is a way for Orthodoxy to learn more and to shine, rather than be damaged and beaten up.

Nevertheless, we in the Modern Orthodox world who have moved away from a position of fear to one of respect and excitement to build bridges to the non-Orthodox movements and organizations need to be sensitive to this fear. Perhaps in my joy of having such incredible leaders on stage with me, in equal, loving dialogue, I was not sufficiently sensitive to this fear that still exists in the Hareidi, Yeshivish, and Centrist organized world. One way of confronting this real fear is to further develop the idea of “emunat hakhamim”—the belief that rabbis, and the general halakhic rabbinic environment, need to be trusted to work things out. Normally, emunat hakhamim is a construction used to justify rabbis maintaining the status quo, despite how illogical and unethical it may seem, or to justify onerous humrot (restrictions) that make practical living difficult. Don’t question, but trust and believe in the great minds of our time. Emunat hakhamim differs from Da’as Torah: Da’as Torah is accepting the advice of the rabbis on non-halakhic, public policy issues; emunat hakhamim is trusting that the halakhic process works, that as strange as the rabbinic Orthodox halakhic consensus seems, it deserves to be trusted and adhered to.

I suggest that the concept of emunat hakhamim must be emphasized in alleviating some of the fear that people feel when bridges are built to the non-Orthodox world: Trust Orthodoxy! Trust Torah! Trust the halakhic system that as long as rabbis and scholars are learning Torah, are arguing Torah, are making Torah the basis of their decisions, we are safe! We do not need to fear that a Reform rabbi who learns in the Beit Midrash or who speaks to students will corrupt them and their Torah—or, will, God forbid, corrupt the thinking of great Torah scholars, Modern Orthodox or otherwise. No, we need to trust the system of Torah that started on Mt. Sinai and has been handed down to us in an unbroken chain to this very day. If we trust Torah and the halakhic system, we should not fear a slippery slope or the teachings of non-Orthodox rabbis. Our system built up over the millennia, and advanced over the past 200 years by the great Yeshivot that have re-enforced Torah learning, enable us to deal with any challenge, any question, any unexpected understanding of Torah, in a coherent way that will ultimately bring about Torah True Judaism. If we really have emunat hakhamim, we have nothing to fear of bridges to other Jews, even if they have a different perspective on Torah.

Yet perhaps even more important than dealing, sensitively, with the fear of bridges, we need to challenge the core idea of zero-sumism: that if we disagree or have competing approaches, only one of us can win. This is the Israeli concept of “frier-ism”—if I let someone get ahead of me, or freely benefit, then I must be losing and I must be a big loser at that. Thank God, we are in a world of a positive-sum game: We can each have our own approach, we can even compete, and yet, more times than not, we can both benefit from the interaction and relationship. That is essentially at the core of pilpul, or “kinat sofrim”—the competition the Talmud encourages to acquire more wisdom for everyone involved. When I encounter someone who disagrees with me, even on fundamental Jewish ideas, it is an opportunity to learn more, and sharpen my belief, rather than a moment of weakness and failure. Politically, that makes me a proponent of free-trade, immigration reform, even ethical capitalism. When it comes to the realm of Orthodox bridge-building to the non-Orthodox world, we in the Modern Orthodox camp need to demonstrate to the rest of the Orthodox world that our bridges are making us better Jews, not weaker Jews.

Yeshivat Chovevei Torah has an opportunity to demonstrate the value of openness and building bridges to Torah by producing top-quality Torah that comes out of a Modern Orthodox, inclusive-oriented yeshiva, and by pushing our students to continue to model passionate commitment to Torah and mitzvoth, in both the spiritual and ethical realms. It is a challenge. Many in the pluralistic Modern Orthodox world do not show the same passion for ritual laws as those on the less tolerant, more Hareidi side of Orthodoxy. The more we can show that this is a positive-sum world for building bridges, the more we can show that our bridges to the Left make us more passionate toward Torah, rather than more tepid, the easier it will be to demonstrate the value of building those bridges to Jewish life in America.

Bridges to non-Orthodox Jews and bridges to different types of Orthodox Jews are important for the same reason. We have to learn from each other; we have to share the Torah and destiny that God has chosen for all of us. We do not need to build bridges to demonstrate our legitimacy. For that we just need to live, learn, and love as good Jews following God’s ways. We do not require anyone on the Left or the Right to tell us we are legitimate or to make us feel loved; God and God’s Torah are the yardstick for legitimacy. Nevertheless, the bridges that have to go up on both sides help us be better Jews, and they strengthen the Jewish people. It is a challenge to convince many in the Orthodox camp of the value of such bridges to the non-Orthodox—but that challenge should neither stop us from building those bridges to the non-Orthodox, nor should it make us despair from believing that we can build bridges to the Hareidi, Yeshivish, or even Centrist Orthodox world.

After a year as President of YCT, I understand better that it will take a lot of effort, patience, and sensitivity to erect the critical bridges to other elements of the Orthodox world. Yet, my belief in emunat hakhamim and my belief that ultimately this is positive-sum world gives me hope that we will successfully build those bridges to the Right, while holding onto, even strengthening, our bridges to the Left. It has taken centuries for the world to understand the benefits of free trade and commerce, even when products compete with our own products. Judaism is just beginning to build the trust and respect necessary for free-trade bridges between denominations and leaders of the different movements and non-movements. But as president of a Modern Orthodox yeshiva that is committed to training Orthodox rabbis to connect with and learn from all Jews, there is no other way. Bridges to other Jews are the way we become better Jews. And no one will stop us from striving to become better Jews, to learn from everyone and every Jew, and to work together with all Jews to make us “goy ehad ba’aretz”—one, unified nation in the land.

What is the most significant thing that ever happened to you, and what did it teach you?

It doesn't work that way, because there are moments when one thing is significant and moments when something else is significant. For a man to be present at the birth of a child is an overwhelming thing. I've been present at the birth of my children, and it's really amazing. I think that's the greatest, deepest miracle because all other things have their space . . . Yet when I look back, every once in a while I make a list of high moments and start saying, "There were moments of love; there were moments of insight; there were moments of prayer." There were even moments of terror, almost like facing death, which made me say, "Aha! Now I understand what it's all about." But I'm still learning about spiritual and holy eldering. Most people don't know how to live the holy life after retirement. You see, popes have remained in the saddle and rabbis have remained in the saddle until they die. I would like to learn how to withdraw gradually from the active life and to spend the last years furthering my solitude with God. That's what I feel life has to teach me. I'm learning to let go of things that are not in my hands to change, learning to live with what, otherwise, would be increasing frustration when I get older.

Life is my teacher. Artificial intelligence is trying to do what natural intelligence is doing. Natural intelligence means that a naturally intelligent organism continues to learn throughout life. Each situation provides a deeper learning, greater learning, a more profound learning. We're all going through a learning, so if I had to pick out one learning as the most significant, I'd say, "I can't; it's constant. The learning that is happening in life is constant because life is a teaching machine." From whom did I learn about life? I learned from life about life, by living life.

Socialized Meditation

Meditation is usually a solitary task. At times one feels that it may only be a solipsistic preoccupation. Much growth happens when meditation is socialized.

We learn from teachers. Here is an example from the Hassidic master, Reb Moshe Kobriner in a little town in Lithuania. People would come to him from all sides asking all sorts of questions. One day he was having his breakfast and all he has is some kasha (buckwheat cereal), and another man comes in and says, "Master, I have so many troubles."

“Blessed art Thou, O Lord, King of the Universe Who has made everything by Thy Word," said Reb Moshe Kobriner (and this was the proper blessing to make before one eats kasha.)

And the man said, "Master, didn't you hear me? I have so many troubles."
And Reb Moshe said, "You know, your father once came to me with the same situation, and he heard me give this blessing that everything comes by His Word and he stopped complaining. Don't you hear?”

Not only with teachers can one enter into such shared meditation. When Buber taught us of the I- -Thou relationship, he spoke of healing through meeting. From my experiences in “socialized meditation” I am convinced that we need to move beyond transpersonal psychology to transpersonal sociology.

All of our conflict resolution efforts not yet managed to turn a recalcitrant person into a collaborating member of global society. The research in this area is vital to our survival. Look at the extremely sophisticated teamwork in technology that can produce a stealth bomber—and compare this to the primitive state of correcting societal dysfunction.

Cycles and Cycles

Prior to this cycle of world creation, there were other cycles of world creation. Holy sparks from those other cycles of world creation, when they were broken, lodged here. Our task is to find those sparks, gather them and bring them together, and restore the balance in the cosmos—to enthrone God again. The Divine Crown, as it were, has gems missing, and in each physical act, we pick up a spark here, a spark there, and bring them together. When all sparks have been gathered, our tradition speaks about the coming of the Messiah. To me, this means something like global oneness, peace, and harmony.

When we become more conscious of the physical and at the same time aware of the highest spirituality, we'll have what I would call the Resurrection of the Dead. This resurrection happens together on a physical and spiritual level. The physical plane is our plane of observation, though everything that happens on a physical plane is not open to our observing. We don’t see with our eyes what is happening between atoms, but if we were on the atomic level we would say, "Ah, this oxygen atom got married to two hydrogen atoms, and they made a water molecule!" We don't operate on that level of awareness. When I put a pot of water on the stove to cook, a lot of weddings take place between the oxygen from the air and the hydrogen that's in the gas, so water gets created. That's a level of observation, the sub-molecular level,that we don't see.

Now in our personal drama, on another level of observation, higher things are happening. Ultimately it takes a meditative leap into other dimensions to be able to see. There is a Latin phrase sub specie aeternitatis, under the aspect of eternity. It means to look down, to see what is happening in the temporal realm. Then we begin to see what Earth is about, what the planet is about, and what history is about from a much higher level. I believe we are just learning the beginnings of the holy psychotechnology, a spiritual psychotechnology that will allow us to get to such places as observing fine moments-or larger ones. Some people have had the larger experiences. Geniuses have had profound mountaintop experiences. I would say, "If they can see the Infinite, they can see the infinitesimal also, because awareness is up and down the scale." By and large, people haven't bothered to look at the infinitesimal. Now, with nanotechnologies becoming important, people are beginning to concentrate on those things.

Care Packages to Eternity

If you see yourself bound by your skin, then you would ask, "How would something I do help the deceased?" When you recognize that half of your chromosomes are your father's, half are your mother's, and a quarter of them are your grandfather's, you realize that your grandfather is still alive in you, in a quarter of your chromosomes. So if you say a prayer, it is almost as if a portion of him is still available to help that other part of him that is beyond. That's why the disciples of a Master get together at the anniversary of his death to celebrate. There is a feeling that there is so much more of the Master available at that moment.

How does one attain the ideal relationship of body and soul?

First of all, just simply be "you." Feel the earth beneath you; feel the chair; feel how gravity upholds you. Gravity is the way earth loves us and attracts us. We should allow ourselves to be supported by that. Second, do one thing at a time; be totally in that thing you're doing. That's a way to be grounded! The next way to be grounded is to realize that there is stuff above that the groundedness has to support. The point isn't just to be flat on the ground. The point is to be firm enough on the ground so that the rest of you can go up.

What is the greatest obstacle to obtaining new levels?

"The sin that is the hardest to atone for is habit." That is the biggest obstacle to reaching new levels, as one rabbi put it. The more we're in a habitual state, the more unlikely it is that we'll go beyond. We won't be in the moment; we won't be in the here and now. We will hear the routine rather than the challenge that comes at this moment.

Will people eventually reach this ideal?

I believe that all people will reach what they have to reach. I'm a universalist, in that sense. That they will reach the same state is not likely. It is enough for a toe to be the toe of a realized person. If I could be the toe, as it were, of realized humanity, that's fine. Not everybody is going to be the brain cell that fires off a great realization. Still, we'll all be organically connected with that, and the organic connection is what fires, just as an organism has a connection with the toe. So the final enlightenment will have a connection with that concept. It's not likely that there is going to be a final enlightenment. I don't like the word “final”, either, because enlightenment continues to the next level and the next level, and it's infinite in God. We no longer have the Temple in Jerusalem, but when it existed, the holiest person on the holiest day at the holiest time in the holiest place would pronounce the holiest word. There would be a kind of implosion of all the Onenesses. That name is a connection, and each year on Yom Kippur, the old connection goes away and the new connection starts coming in. Sins interfere, spoil, and ruin the old connection.

You can’t attune to what you merely read.

When we learn how to pray, we learn not just how to recite words, but how to open the heart. It's like biofeedback: When we are with a person who is opening the heart, we can feel attuned to it. "Ah, now it feels right in my heart!" But if somebody says, "Open your heart," and you've never had that "thing," how do you know you've done it correctly? If you're in a larger group where all the people are doing this, and there is a liturgy being celebrated, you get to feel at one with the people who are in this elated place. That's how you attune to it.

Total realization can happen anywhere. It can happen spontaneously, and it can happen under direction. Very often, even that which is under direction requires the moment of grace, of spontaneity. But there are people who can achieve attunement in synagogue but not in the marketplace, for instance.

What are the greatest problems in life?

The main problems in life are making a living, making a loving, and making a dying. Making a living is a big problem for many, many people. When that's together, then there's the question of making a loving—how to have good relationships and to receive and to give love. People who don't have that can have all the money in the world, but it's no good! For people who've had a good life and a good loving and a good living, when the time comes to leave that life, the problem is how to do that gently and gratefully.

Why is there suffering in the world?

That's a question that gets us into trouble! One could say that the greatest education we get is through suffering. Consciousness is being raised through deprivation. I will never know what it means to give people food when they're hungry unless I have experienced hunger myself. I will not know how to help somebody who is in pain unless I have experienced pain myself. One could say suffering is the school for empathy. It creates that, but that's only one element of suffering.

Sometimes suffering exists in order to bring us to our senses. Sometimes suffering exists in order to show us that there are tragedies we can't overcome with our childish omnipotence in the world. We begin to see that every choice we make has its consequences. Suffering is the way in which we learn, after the fact, the consequences of our moves.

Then there are some people who suffer and can't identify this reason or that reason. It's just one of those things. "Why do bad things happen to good people?" is the question behind all that, and I haven't yet found a convincing answer. Sometimes no matter what we do, we get clobbered! On a lower level of preparation and understanding we would say, "If we do only the good and the true all the time, we're going to be okay." On a higher level being good doesn't help. The biggest ethical questions are based on just that point.

From Religion to Spirituality

Despite the pessimistic outlook on the whole, there are here and there signs of positive breakthroughs. Meditation is embraced by many people who have no other religious commitment. It has now gone beyond the mere “relaxation response” that meditation can provide. It has led people to greater spiritual growth and awareness. While it seems that religion is “out” for many, spirituality is “in.” People want to learn how to experience the sacred not just talk about it. There is real interest in how adepts do what they do. This interest is not mere curiosity. It is an inquiry into the how that allows for emulation. We have entered into what I have called the dialogue of devoutness. There is a great comparing of notes, of insight and understanding to be shared by those who reverence the name of God and love Him. God listens, hears, and records these things (Mal. 3:16). Such dialogue concerns souls, their journey to God, the difficulties they encounter on the path.

Dialogue of this sort is between the soul and her God. A person who is too busy to live in a state of vulnerability vis-à-vis God has no way to enter into this dialogue. Such a person can say “I believe this” or “I believe that”—and still be spiritually inactive. Religion to such persons is only the things they give verbal assent to, not the things they experience, not the way they face God. They are registered as a Jew or a Protestant or a Catholic like they register as a Republican or Democrat. The function of a creed is to give people a program for life, not just a list of things to be asserted.

What about death and what happens after death?

I do believe that death is only part of the connection between the physical and the inner. It's like pulling the plug. Most people know enough to get their inner out of the way. Let's say you drive in your car and it's rattling; it's in bad shape. Finally, it's all over. You drive it to the junkyard. You get out of the car, and then a crusher comes and crushes it down. You'd be a fool to sit in it after the car is dead. I have the same attitude toward the body. Bodies wear out, and it's a wonderful thing that they wear out. They get recycled, which gives the passenger a chance to get out and pick another car, another vehicle…or to decide not to walk the earth for awhile.

Our tradition teaches that a whole series of things happens after death. A soul has to go through purification because of the contamination of being on this level and the habits that are acquired on this level. After purification come other things that are delightful, ecstatic, and marvelous. Some of them have to do with the realm of feeling. That is one Heaven. Others have to do with the realm of knowing. That's another Heaven. Then there is the Heaven in which we know intuitively and are known by God.

What is most important to you?

I can't say. It varies and changes. If I can't take a breath of air, then the most important thing is to take another breath of air. Imagine: I'm diving underwater and can't get to the surface. How important a breath of air is then! When I have the breath of air, then what's important is how I reach the shore. I don't believe these things are static. There is a dynamic element that's always before us. Right now what I want is to finish the week. Then, to come to a Sabbath rest is the most important thing. It will keep changing all the time.

I do what I do out of concern. My sense is that the more life, the better education, and the more tools that are made available for people to manage their physical and spiritual life, the better off the planet is going to be. And that's what I'm most concerned about.

What is the highest ideal a person can reach?

There is no general statement one can make, because if I say "X or Y is the highest ideal," then we think everybody has to achieve that. But if you achieve what I have to achieve and I achieve what you have to achieve, then I haven't gotten my realization and you haven't gotten your realization. There are individual differences. The Universe is made up of so many individual bits. Each one has to achieve what it is meant to achieve. For someone who is a dancer, the ideal may be the ideal leap. For another person, it may be the ideal meditation. For another, the ideal act of love, kindness, or charity. You have to specialize in your own thing. One Hassidic Master said it very beautifully: "I'm not afraid that God will ask me, 'Zusha, why have you not become an Abraham, Isaac, or Jacob?' But I am afraid that God will ask me, 'Zusha, why have you not become what Zusha was intended to be?'"

What makes you happy? sad? angry?

I'm happy when I have contentment and moments of no conflict. I'm happy when I feel love coming and going from my heart to those who are around me, when I feel integrated with the Universe and at peace with God. The opposite makes me sad. To see people suffering and not to be able to help makes me sad. The child has an earache, and there's nothing at this point that can be done. I can hold a child, but it's not going to make the earache go away. To be powerless over pain that others experience is sad. What makes me angry is willful malicious obstruction of the common good.

If you could meet anyone throughout history, whom would you want to meet and what would you ask that person?

I would like to meet myself at the moment after enlightenment . Then I would like to ask, "How did you do it?" All the other people would just satisfy a kind of curiosity, but it wouldn't help me in my stuff, so I wouldn't want to go into the past so much as into the future. But you want me to name somebody in the past I would want to connect with. There are many Hassidic Masters, but I would like to go to the founder of the Hassidic movement, Ba'al Shem Tov, and just be with him and not ask him any questions. I would want to look at him, to have him look at me, and then to pray in such a way that I could learn something from him. I would want to attune to his spirituality. That's all. It's not words I would want .

Rabbi Cardozo’s analysis rings true: Most synagogues no longer serve as the hub or heartbeat of Jewish connectivity, especially for young Jews. Many people no longer feel God in the pews, nor do they feel the “big” questions are answered in synagogues. God has left the building.

But correct as Cardozo may be about widespread disenchantment, he makes one overriding assumption that’s seems faulty: He speaks about God as if God is a given—as if every Jew accepts “His” existence. The average American Jew doesn’t talk about God, lacks the vocabulary with which to articulate what or who God is or means, or doubts whether God exists at all. Most Jews I encounter don’t know where God might be found, or even if God is missing.

It’s not that science is the sole culprit, as Cardozo suggests, that we’ve been reasoned out of faith. It’s simply that God is not a self-evident or felt presence in the lives of many Jews. If the concept of God is discussed, it is usually as the exemplar of a moral life, or alternatively, as the object of praise and appreciation on the siddur page. Few Jews in today’s world describe themselves as having a deep relationship with God as counselor, confidante, or spiritual center of gravity.

When Cardozo critiques the “regular synagogue visitors” who “only speak to Him when they need Him,” I would counter that most Jews I know aren’t certain there is a “Him” at all, let alone someone they petition. Cardozo says we never “hear Him when He calls for help in pursuing the purpose of His creation,” but I believe that Cardozo’s three assumptions are just that—assumptions that a) there is a God; b) God needs our help; and c) God calls out to us.

Ask the majority of American Jews if they’re sure there is a God. Ask them if they believe God requires our participation. Ask if they’ve ever heard God or think they might.

Certainly there are Jews who believe in the notion that God, if not the sole author of creation, had a decisive hand in our miraculous universe, but those same Jews don’t necessarily believe that God expects us to help complete (or improve) creation, or that God calls to us in a way that we’re able to actually hear or heed.

So if there is a spiritual drought today, it may not just be the fault of institutional Judaism and lackluster shul life, but of Jews who have a basic resistance to God in the modern age.

Reading Cardozo’s essay made me wish God were indeed part of our daily conversation. Wouldn’t every uncertain Jew benefit from a direct, personal challenge: Why does God remain such a problematic idea? What are we looking for when we talk about “spirituality”? What role has God played, not just in our history, texts, and traditions, but in our most private moments?

How refreshing it would be if our institutional leaders—be they rabbis, cantors, or educators— would actually press us to ask the hardest questions of ourselves: Is it possible to be a Jew without God? Might you have already communed with God without even knowing it? Do you accept the role that God supposedly has played in our collective story? How do you conceptualize the God to whom you pray?

When Cardozo writes that “We have replaced God with prayers, no longer realizing to Whom we are praying,” that’s a blunt criticism, deserving of blunt debate: Is prayer a substitute for a more intimate, honest relationship with God? If Cardozo is correct that we don’t realize to whom we are praying, how would we begin to correct that? Where would the realization ultimately come from?

What I observe in today’s Jewish life is a bifurcation between those who, in essence, already have it, or "get it,” and those who are flailing or have given up the search. There’s a gulf between the self-appointed “insiders” who are wholly confident in their relationship with God, and those who, when it comes to belief or worship, are at sea, lack the comfort or fluency of faith, drop in and out of ritual. Cardozo’s essay seems to be directed at those already in the inner circle. I wish he could also have addressed those Jews who don’t yet have a direct line to the divine.

Certainly, there are new epicenters of engagement, be they as formal as independent minyanim, or as casual as coffee conversations. But what both the new guard and the old share is buy-in: unquestioned faith in a deity and a confident sense of spiritual access, neither of which can be assumed among the wider Jewish population. I’d wager that the largest swath of our community feels little or no meaningful connection to the God whose many names fill every blessing we say and every page of our prayer books.

I belong to a synagogue whose practices richly and consistently contradict Cardozo’s characterization of shuls as “religiously sterile and spiritually empty.” An historic landmark with more than 2,000 families, Central Synagogue, a Reform congregation in Manhattan, has managed to create the “excitement” he says is lacking. More to the point, I find God there in every way. It’s difficult to explain why, without sounding lightweight, imprecise, even saccharine; but I’ll do it anyway. To begin with, I feel God in the synagogue's physical space—the soaring ceilings, honeyed lighting, eternal flame, stenciled wall designs that artisans and congregants reproduced meticulously after a devastating fire. I feel God in the fact that on Friday nights, the full pews are populated by busy New Yorkers who could easily choose to go to the gym or the movies instead.

I feel God in the cantor’s soulful voice and in the clarinet melodies that somehow conjure my old Yiddish-speaking immigrant aunts and uncles, the weeping and wanderings of past generations. I see God in the glowing Shabbat tapers lit on a small wooden table on the bimah. God is in the aisles during the Torah’s procession and resonates in the rabbi’s strong embrace, in each friend’s “Shabbat Shalom,” in the sight of children tearing off pieces of challah.

I have felt God in my private conversations with the clergy and in those decisive moments of struggle where the senior rabbi reached out to my family before we asked and before we knew realized how much we needed him.

I felt God on Mount Scopus overlooking Jerusalem and while chanting Shabbat blessings atop King David’s tower, and while walking the beaches of Tel Aviv.

I felt God when the congregation mobilized instantly to clothe and feed victims of Hurricane Sandy—assembly lines of families filling boxes and garbage bags to cart out to Rockaway.

I feel God every Thursday at dawn when my daughter and I serve breakfast to 100 homeless men and women in the lobby of our religious school.

I feel God when I’m deconstructing a line of Torah with the monthly study group that meets in my living room, led by a teacher from Mechon Hadar. There are lessons that stretch my thinking about how to live a grateful, giving life, how to apply our ancient texts to daily decisions.

I often hear rabbis talk about finding God “in relationships,” and I know exactly what they mean: I’ve experienced friendships that feel as if God orchestrated them—to teach me something, ask more of me, make me feel alert, needed, beholden.

I absolutely feel God in my daughter and son’s faces and in my husband’s hands.

I believe that a Jew needn’t be strictly observant to feel God’s presence, but the message that comes through so often is that God only exists for the devout; you have to do more to even get close. Yet many of us have exactly the appetite that Cardozo describes—we “want to study God and understand why He created the world and what the meaning of life is all about. What is the human condition? What is a religious experience? How do we confront death?” What Cardozo seems to overlook is the fragility of faith; it isn’t—pun intended—God-given. He’s right to ask the question, “Who wants to live a life that passes by unnoticed?” But he’s wrong to assume that most modern Jews see God as the clear answer to living a noticed life.

I would love to meet God in that "mysterious stratosphere" in which fundamental questions linger unanswered. But before any of us wander there, let’s acknowledge that most Jews can’t “move to God’s new habitat” until they are sure God inhabits any place at all, or until they see that God has been beside them all along.

Within a three-mile radius of my home, there are about 60 Orthodox synagogue options. Sixty. It’s a staggering number—and even more staggering that despite this number, new synagogues and minyanim are being formed on a fairly regular basis. In fact, not that long ago, I and my husband, along with about 20 other families, created a new synagogue in Baltimore: Netivot Shalom.

Why would we feel the need, in such a strong Orthodox community, to “break away” from other synagogues?

I cannot speak for other minyanim and synagogues that may form for a variety of reasons—from convenience to rallying around a particular rabbi. But for us, not starting a new synagogue would have meant that we probably would have skipped town to find what we now have at Netivot Shalom. Synagogue life has always been central to me—and I simply did not find an Orthodox community where members were heard—and encouraged to speak, learn, and grow. Particularly as a woman in a more right-leaning community, my voice was silenced; literally, I was regularly shushed when praying too loudly, or was told, “not in our synagogue” when I asked about creating more opportunities for women in synagogue life.

Netivot Shalom was founded to fill a void in the community, and create a space where everyone has a voice and an active role.

What is wrong with “mainstream” synagogues? Inherently, nothing. Mainstream synagogues have for generations inspired thousands of Jews to engage religiously, socially, ethically. So what has changed? I want to focus on the three main reasons we started Netivot Shalom, all of which comment to some extent on what may be amiss in many Orthodox synagogues.

1. Size Matters.

Many synagogues have become a little “too successful” in the numbers department. More members means more funds for programming, and more people with whom to pray and connect in meaningful ways. It also means that people can get lost if they are not part of established cliques; they don’t always have opportunities to participate in services and programs; they don’t feel like their presence matters. Whether or not they show up, the show will go on.

Another issue that arises from huge congregations is the divisions into separate services: Within one synagogue, there may be a hashkama (early) minyan, a teen minyan, the “regular” minyan, the beginner’s minyan, the young families’ minyan, the Sephardic minyan, and the Kiddush club. These groups may or may not interact with each other. The multiple-minyanim within one roof leads to two problems:

a. Families and friends are separated for prayer, and the synagogue experience becomes a factionalized, rather than bonding experience.
b. One of the beauties of the synagogue experience is the opportunity to interact and grow with people with varied interests, people of multiple generations, people whose life experiences and perspectives are different than our own. When given the option, people are more likely to gravitate toward minyanim where the social community is more homogeneous in terms of age, stage in life, or interests.

Having only one minyan enforces diversity—diversity of thought, background, and religious ideology. Shiv’im panim la-Torah, the idea that Torah has 70 facets, becomes real in a diverse minyan.

Although our community is still small, drawing about 70 people on any given Shabbat, social and religious heterogeneity is a given. In our services, although our minhag is set, different tunes and voices are heard from people of all backgrounds and ages: In any given week, Spanish and Portuguese, Syrian, and Ashkenazic ta’amim are used for Torah and Haftarah readings; women’s voices are heard for the Prayers for the Government and Army, shiurim, and/or Kiddush; children’s voices are heard for An’im Zemirot and the concluding prayers. Our weekly sermons are delivered by a large rotation of members—men, women, and sometimes children—who represent a wide range of ideologies and backgrounds.

2. Who Runs the Show?

Who is responsible for running the synagogue? The board of directors? The rabbi? The members? I have been a member of synagogues with different political systems. In some, the board controls everything—including some decisions that would be better left to a halakhic authority with a sensitivity to the needs of the community. In these synagogues, it is often a rule of egos; any dissent was quashed, and members were regularly discredited and pushed aside, told “You’re the only one who feels this way.” This is no way to run a community organization.

On the other hand, for a few years, our family was part of a synagogue where the rabbi held all of the power, threatening to quit if the board/membership didn’t vote a certain way on big issues. This authoritarian model didn’t work for us either.
Most successful synagogues have the rabbi-board work as a system of checks and balanaces; this seems to work practically—but can be disenfranchising to members who may want more information about ritual, financial, and other decisions. Where are the voices of the members? And how should they be incorporated into the runnings of the synagogue?

At Netivot Shalom, it’s been rather easy, since to date, we have no rabbi (although we are currently in the throes of a rabbinic search). All board members are elected by the membership, and all members have a voice in ALL issues that affect the community. Halakhic decisions are made by a committee, made up of men and women from different demographic groups, with the advice of an Orthodox rabbi. This rabbi presents the range of acceptable halakhic options, and after studying and deliberating on the different views, the committee makes a recommendation to the board. If it is an issue that affects everyone, such as the height and design of the mehitza, or women saying Kiddush for everyone, the entire community votes—after a series of classes in which everyone can learn the basis of the halakhic options and explore the positions that both permit and forbid the recommendations. Thus, having a voice in synagogue decision-making is not only an opportunity for transparency and empowerment; it’s an opportunity for everyone to learn and grow in our knowledge of Jewish texts.

3. Inertia Rules.

People often find comfort in the familiar, in the status quo. Yes, Netivot Shalom is a comfortable, haimish place. The service is standard nussah Ashkenaz, and the structure of the prayers echoes that of most Orthodox synagogues. But innovation, with sensitivity to all members, is a driving force in our community. We are not driven by inertia, but by intentionality and opportunities for growth. For example, on Purim, we studied the halakhot around women reading Megillat Esther for men and women, and concluded that there are no halakhic barriers to this practice. However, some members were simply uncomfortable with the change; so we opted to have two simultaneous readings—one only read by men, and one read by men and women. Similarly, when the community elected to have women say Kiddush for the community, it was with the caveat that we announce (whether a man or a woman is saying Kiddush), something to the extent of “So-and-so will now make Kiddush. If you would like to be yotzei, listen and answer Amen. If you would like to make your own Kiddush, grape juice is available at the drinks table.” Any change in ritual practice can cause angst, and thus must be approached slowly and deliberately, with sensitivity to the needs—halakhic and extra-halakhic—of the community members.

Regarding mainstream synagogues, Rabbbi Nathan Lopes Cardozo writes, “… God is relocating. He doesn’t want to live in a place where His ongoing creation is unappreciated and even denied.”

I am honored to be a part of a community where God’s ongoing creation is appreciated, studied, and explored. I am honored to be a part of a community where everyone has a voice. I am honored to be a part of a community where our tagline defines us as a community that is “committed to learning and living God’s Torah. Through this engagement we seek to perpetuate the values of respecting the Tselem Elokim in each person, of Ahavat Yisrael, and of Kavod haBeriyot.” For more information, please visit our website at www.netivotshalom.net.

If, ten years ago, someone had told me that I would be a member of the board of a religious, rabbinic organization, that I would attend synagogue services every Shabbat, that I would put on tefillin, and that I would even write an article for a religious publication – I would have laughed and explained how severely mistaken that person was: I, the proud member of Hashomer Hatzair, who is secular in every fiber of his body?! Nevertheless, something no less than a revolution took place in my life, and a substantive change in my worldview. Like many revolutions, the change began with something small. But, if I may, I would like to begin at the beginning. I was raised near Haifa, and I was taught the values of secular socialism, the love of Israel, tolerance, social responsibility – and many other values that can also be found in the Torah – as a member of the Kiryat Haim section of Hashomer Hatzair. In my childhood, there was no connection between the religious and secular residents, and no attempt was made to establish such a connection. The two communities lived side-by-side like oil and water, never mixing. In the army, I served in a mostly secular unit, whose members came from backgrounds similar to my own. When a religious soldier would arrive, our mission was to see how long it would take for us to get him to watch television on Shabbat, and to remove his kippah. We had quite a few “successes”. After the army, I met my wife, Irit, who had been raised in a traditional Jewish home, and we had four children. Until about a decade ago, a connection ith God was foreign to me, and was always associated with the corrupt religious establishment, on the one hand, and extremist settlers, on the other. I wrongly assumed that there was a part of the Jewish people that had an exclusive license from God. In the meantime, my hard work bore fruit, and I managed to purchase the Israeli Building Center. The biggest change in my relationship with religion and Judaism began in that framework, as I came to know several religious people involved in the construction industry. Work-related discussions began to digress to discussions about life, family, children, lifestyle, and we even got together with our wives. Slowly, for the first time in my life, I began to have real friendships with religious people. One day, our friends, Meir and Revital Noga, invited us to their home for Shabbat dinner. Meir gently suggested that I come early and accompany him to the synagogue. What I did not know at the time was that Meir had consulted with his rabbi, and had received what was then a rather innovative rabbinic decision, allowing him to invite me and my family for Shabbat, even though it meant that we might desecrate Shabbat. We went to synagogue together – for me, it was the first time in 30 years – and we sat down together for Shabbat dinner with their beautiful family. Back then, we also became very close friends with a family from Givat Shmuel, Michal and Meir Mizrachi, whose children became close friends of our children, and Iris and Dvir Granot from Tzur Yigal. Through those acquaintances with those special people, I learned how beautiful and special Judaism is, and that, wow, some of it suits me. Who would have imagined that one day the rabbi who allowed us to come for Shabbat, and who opened that door, Rabbi Ronen Neuwirth, would become a friend whom I would join in working together to establish the Beit Hillel organization?! More than ten years ago, I began putting on tefillin daily, making kiddush and saying birkat hamazon after meals. Two years later, I began attending synagogue services on Friday evenings (in the community center of my moshav, Ramot Hashavim), and a year later, I began attending Saturday morning services, as well, becoming a regular member of the minyan. Due to the small number of worshippers in the synagogue in Ramot Hashavim, Benzi (perhaps the only Orthodox person in the community), began to encourage us to lead services. Slowly, we began to add other “secular” Jews. But the turning point came during the Second Lebanon War (2006), when one of the women began attending Friday night services on a regular basis, and other women followed. The women began bringing their children, and their husbands soon followed. Today, twenty-five families are members of the Ramot Hashavim congregation. If you had asked people in Ramot Hashavim five years ago if such a thing were possible, they would have said that you were hallucinating. Every Monday, we study the weekly Torah portion at one of the homes in the community. Because we did not have a kosher Torah scroll, I assumed the responsibility of having one written (when I was told that I was crazy, and that it was very expensive, I replied that, in any case, everything I earn is granted to me from Above, so it really isn’t mine anyway), and two years ago, I brought it to the synagogue in a procession in which hundreds of residents participated, with musical accompaniment that rocked the whole neighborhood. This year, we held hakafot shniyot for the first time. We are on the way. We are not (yet) Shabbat observant, and perhaps some of us never will be. But we are now firmly rooted in the world of Torah and tradition, like thousands of other Israelis throughout the country – people with “invisible kippot”. None of this would have occurred had it not been for the Noga family from Kfar Ganim, the Mizrachi family from Givat Shmuel, and the Granot family from Tzur Yigal, who opened their hearts and their homes, and were it not for the invitation to be their Shabbat guests, and having us as guests in their home. They lit the Jewish spark that exists in every Jew. They showed me the beautiful side of Judaism and Jewish tradition. Thanks to their outstretched hands, my children are growing up together with theirs, and when my son joins the army, he will not be motivated to encourage his observant friends to watch television on Shabbat, but the opposite. So, what do I ask of the religious community? I ask them to learn from the Noga, Granot and Mizrahi families. Open your hearts and homes to your friends, coworkers and neighbors. Friends, the time is ripe in Heaven and in Israel. You must take advantage of this opportunity to be part of the unification of the Jewish People. That, I believe, is the current mission of Religious Zionism. May we fulfill the statement of the rabbis in the Midrash (Song of Songs, 5:2) - “Open up for me an opening like the eye of a needle and in turn I will enlarge it to be an opening through which wagons can enter.”

National Scholar Six Month Report June 1-November 30, 2013

I am pleased to report that I now have completed the first six months of working as National Scholar of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals. It has been an honor and privilege working to support our vision, primarily through teaching and also through writing and internet classes. We have hit the ground running, and this report summarizes our various projects and activities over the past six months. Our initial goals reflect a desire to reach broad segments of the community, joining them in learning dialogue and representing the kind of Torah Judaism that is authentic to tradition and intellectually sound, engaging, and vibrant.

Our major areas of focus are:

University Students:

o Teaching four courses this semester to undergraduates at Yeshiva University forms the heart of this educational element. I will be teaching four more courses in the spring semester. Many of my students have gone on to rabbinical school and careers in the rabbinate and in Jewish education, and many others form the lay backbone of communities nationwide and in Israel.

o Through our University Network, I have given classes at Columbia University and at New York University. A class at the University of Pennsylvania is coming up and I am in touch with campus representatives in several universities as we work on logistics for upcoming classes.

Community Education:

o There is a serious thirst for the kind of learning represented by our Institute, and a growing number of communities have pursued us. Through a combination of Shabbat scholar-in-residence programs, several series’ and lectures in different communities, and many more to come, we are reaching many hundreds of interested adults directly.

o I have developed a series of lectures on the underlying worldview of our Institute. Thus far I have given several lectures in different communities, and look forward to giving a fuller series in the New York area in the near future. • Teacher Training:

o One of our central goals is to train other leaders and educators to spread Torah to schools and communities. In this manner we create bridges with many people in the field to work together.

o Last year I taught a year-long course in “How to Teach Bible in Synagogues” to the honors rabbinical students at Yeshiva University. This past semester I taught a one-semester version of the course to the women in the Graduate Program for Advanced Talmudic Studies at Stern College for Women of Yeshiva University.

o I have given teacher-training seminars to Bible faculties at the Ida Crown Academy (Chicago) and the Ramaz High School (New York). Given the complexities of Bible and Jewish Studies our graduates are likely to encounter on secular university campuses, our training focuses on how to better equip Jewish Studies high school faculties to prepare their students for the University setting.

Internet Learning:

o We have created an Online Learning section on the Institute’s website, jewishideas.org. You will find links to a number of classes of mine, and this section will grow as more of these classes are recorded and posted online.

o I have developed a new kind of class with the Aleph Beta Academy (alephbeta.org), in which I record classes and their video editors create an online video experience. Thus far my classes on the Books of Joshua, Judges, and Lamentations are online, and Samuel and Kings are in process, with more to come.

Publications:

o We are publishing my newest book, A Synagogue Companion, through the Institute this January and it will be distributed to all Institute members and interested synagogues, educators, and laypeople across the country. This volume makes accessible comments on the Torah, Haftarot, and Shabbat morning prayers.

o I have published a second revised edition of my first collection of essays on Bible, Through an Opaque Lens. It is available at amazon.com.

o I have begun organizing a Holiday Companion to be published through the Institute that will contain commentary on the holidays and their major themes. Below is an itemized listing of the various classes and programs over the past six months, as well as some upcoming highlights.

• May 31-June 1: Scholar-in-residence, Young Israel of Jamaica Estates, Queens, NY.
• June 10: Teachers’ in-service at the Ida Crown Jewish Academy (High School) in Chicago.
• June 21-22: Scholar-in-residence, Young Israel of Stamford, Connecticut.
• June 26 Lecture in the Experiential Education program by Yeshiva University, “Teaching the Book of Job.”
• July 19-20: Scholar-in-residence, Mashadi Persian community in Great Neck, NY.
• July 26-27 Scholar-in-residence, Lincoln Square Synagogue in Manhattan.
• August 16-17 Scholar-in-residence, Lincoln Square Synagogue in Manhattan.
• September 10: Stanley Rudoff Memorial Lecture at the Drisha Institute for Jewish Education: “Introduction to Kohelet: confronting religious challenges.”
• October 6: Speaker at Book Reception for new commentary by Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik: Chumash Mesorat HaRav: Chumash with Commentary Based on the Teachings of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik. Young Israel of New Rochelle.
• October 9: Queens College Annual Sephardic Lecture, “A Sephardic Approach to Tradition and Modernity.”
• Oct 13, 20, 27: Young Israel of Jamaica Estates. Three-part series on Biblical Wisdom (Proverbs, Job, Kohelet).
• October 27: Columbia-Barnard Hillel/Institute University Network. “Learning Faith from the Text, or Text from Faith: The Challenges of Teaching and Learning the Avraham Narratives and Commentary.”
• November 17: Young Israel of Jamaica Estates, “The Books of the Maccabees and Rabbinic Thought: Getting to the Roots of Hanukkah.”
• November 21: Teacher training session, Ramaz Bible faculty, New York.
• November 25: Lecture at New York University Hillel/Institute University Network, “Orthodoxy and Confrontation with Modern Bible Criticism.”
• October 16-December 18: Weekly classes in the Book of Judges at Lincoln Square Synagogue in Manhattan.
• October 2-December 11: A course on “How to Teach Bible in Synagogues” to the Graduate Program for Women in Advanced Talmudic Study at Stern College for Women of Yeshiva University.

Upcoming lectures and scholar-in-residence programs

• December 8: Lecture at University of Pennsylvania/Institute University Network. “The Book of Chronicles: a window into how the Bible was written.”
• Shabbat December 13-14: Scholar-in-Residence, Congregation Chovevei Tzion in Chicago.
• January 2: Teacher training session, Ramaz Bible faculty, New York.
• Shabbat January 3-4: Scholar-in-Residence, Congregation Keter Torah (Roemer) in Teaneck.
• January 13: Megillat Esther, at Yeshivat Chovevei Torah.
• January 29-April 2: Weekly classes in the First Book of Samuel at Lincoln Square Synagogue in Manhattan.
• Shabbat February 7-8: Scholar-in-Residence, Yeshiva University.
• Shabbat March 7-8: Scholar-in-Residence, Congregation Shaarei Orah in Teaneck.
• Shabbat, June 20-21: Scholar-in-Residence, Young Israel of Oceanside.

The Kosher Bookworm
The Study of Bible Commentary--Fascinating
by Alan Jay Gerber

This past week the Young Israel of Lawrence Cedarhurst hosted one of America's
leading interpreters of the Bible text and commentaries, Rabbi Hayyim Angel.
Rabbi Angel's presentments that Shabbat to a total of over 700 attendees was
both impressive as to their attentiveness of the listeners as well as to the
comprehensiveness of the content of his message. As reflected in his literary
output over the past decade Rabbi Angel's message is to parse the inner workings
of the text of the holy writ, to define to "amcha" the methodology of peshat and
derash, so as to enable the average layperson to better understand the basic
content as well as the hidden theological message of the divine text.

This review is intended to serve as a literary followup to Rabbi Angel's message
through bringing to your attention a sample of Rabbi Angel's literary works for
your edification and hopeful use. This review is not intended to be an
analytical study, just a "taste" of the wisdom and gifted thought of Rabbi
Hayyim Angel.

Recently, Kodesh Press published Rabbi Angel's "Peshat Isn't So Simple" Essays
on Developing a Religious Methodology to Bible Study", a collection of twenty
one essays spanning the entire Bible dealing with some of the most interesting
chapter of Bible narrative. Within these pages are reflected Rabbi Angel's
method of analysis wherein we get a first hand up front view of what constitutes
real Bible commentary. Among the commentators whose commentary is given the
"Angel treatment" are Rambam, Abarbanel, Sforno,Moshe Shamah, and Leon Kass.
Rabbi Angel's method in defining parshanut envelops much of this work making for
some interesting and truly informative teachings.

From the very outset, Rabbi Angel defines for us his method for us to
understand and to hopefully ultimately apply in our future study of the Bible.

Consider the following:

"Developing a religious methodology for learning Tanach requires many
ingredients. Foremost, the belief in Revelation, that the sacred words of the
Bible reflect G-d's word speaking directly to us, lies at the very heart of
learning. Tanach shapes our religious worldview, our religious and moral
behavior, and our core values and ideals."

This is as plain and as straight as one can write on a subject that has been the
source of questionable theological takes among our people for over two
centuries. The blunt honesty of the writer is a refreshing change of pace from
those of his more liberal contemporaries who use the Bible as a whipping post
for their questionable beliefs.

Further on in his introduction Rabbi Angel notes the following:

"Although peshat often is translated as the plain or simple sense of the text,
there is nothing plain or simple about it when we take it seriously. Sifting
through many centuries of scholarship and methodology coupled with pursuing
contemporary approaches and research is a life-long endeavor, as we continue our
attempts to refine truth and approach G-d's word through our eternal sacred
texts."

Among the more interesting chapters in this work that relate to the current
Torah readings, you will surely find the following to be of must interest:
"Joseph's Bones: Peshat, Derash, and in Between", and "Learning From and living
our History: Lessons from the Exodus in Tanach".
Both of these two essays will give you a broader understanding as well as
appreciation of the inner meanings and messages of Torah text, as well as the
various nuances of Torah commentaries.

Related to these essays, in a previous work by Rabbi Angel entitled, "Revealed
Texts, Hidden Meanings" [Ktav 2009] we find a short yet fascinating essay, "The
Genesis-Exodus Continuum: What Happens When They Are Viewed As A Larger Unit"
that details the thematic links between the first two books of the Bible that
further enhance their theological as well as literary messages. This chapter
alone would make for some interesting conversation as the Seder table, indeed a
warm thought for this time of year.

The Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals has been co-sponsoring my ten-part series of weekly classes with Lincoln Square Synagogue in the First Book of Samuel (68th Street and Amsterdam Avenue in Manhattan). Ten Wednesdays from 7:15-8:15 pm from January 29-April 2. Registration for the entire course costs $150, or it costs $20 per class if you register in advance/$25 at the door per class. You can register at lss.org/RabbiAngel.

Some other teaching highlights from February include:

Shabbat Feb 7-8: scholar-in-residence at Yeshiva University. Shiurim on the interrelationship between traditional and academic methods of Tanakh study (this is primarily for students there)

Shabbat Feb 15: Shabbat morning class at Congregation Ohav Shalom after morning services (84th between Broadway and West End Avenue, NYC): "Hur and Pharaoh's daughter." Around 11:00am

Sunday Feb 23: class on Megillat Esther at the Kingsway Jewish Center in Brooklyn. 9:30-10:30 am, Kingsway Jewish Center 2810 Nostrand Avenue Brooklyn NY 11234

Shabbat Feb 28-March 1: scholar-in-residence program at Cornell University (for Cornell students). I will be giving a four-part series at Yeshivat Chovevei Torah in Riverdale, NY beginning March 5 on the Book of Jeremiah, for students at YCT.

Thursday March 6: I will be conducting a teacher training session on the Book of Jeremiah for Tanakh faculty at the Ramaz Upper School in New York.

Shabbat March 7-8: scholar-in-residence at Congregation Shaarei Orah in Teaneck, New Jersey. This Shabbat will feature several talks on Sephardic and Ashkenazic liturgy and philosophy and how a study of both deepens our appreciation of tradition. 1425 Essex Rd, Teaneck, NJ 07666

To our members and friends: I extend best wishes for a happy and healthy New Year. Shalom al Yisrael, and shalom on all good people everywhere who promote peace and understanding.

With the holiday season approaching, we consider new beginnings. The newly created position of National Scholar enables the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals to bring classes and special programs to communities, college campuses, and the wider public through publications and the internet. Response thus far from Institute members and from the communities I have visited has been most gratifying. There is a deeply felt sense that the vision represented by our Institute is relevant and necessary for the spiritual health and growth of the Jewish community.

Thank you to those who support the work of the Institute—we are spreading our wings more than ever before and can do so because of the community-wide support of our members. Here is what is coming up for the fall: · We are nearing the final editing stage of a Synagogue Companion with commentary on the Torah, Haftarot, and the Shabbat morning prayer service. This volume will contain short pieces—generally 300-500 words each, to deliver meaningful content to people of all backgrounds.

The Institute will publish this volume in January 2014, and will distribute it to Institute members and to synagogues across the country. If you are interested in contributing toward the publication of this volume, please contact me no later than October 1 for co-sponsorship and dedication opportunities. [email protected]. ·

One of my major projects over the summer has been the development of a lecture series on the religious philosophy of our Institute. Through a series of lectures in Manhattan (we are currently working on time and location, and will let you know), and a number of lectures elsewhere, we will explore several central topics that impact on contemporary Jewish life. Our goal is to create a faithful, expansive worldview that incorporates great rabbinic voices from throughout history and from all over the Jewish world. This series, along with my ongoing teaching of Bible, will play a major role in my teaching in Manhattan and in different communities and campuses throughout the country over the next couple of years.

Here are some upcoming lectures that I will be giving. They are free and open to the public, unless otherwise noted. ·

Stanley Rudoff Memorial Lecture at the Drisha Institute for Jewish Education (37 West 65th Street on the Upper West Side of Manhattan), “Introduction to Kohelet: confronting religious challenges.” Tuesday, September 10, 7:30-9:00 pm. ·

Lecture for a Book Reception for a new commentary by Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik on the Torah: Chumash Mesorat HaRav: Chumash with Commentary Based on the Teachings of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik. This project was sponsored by pillars of our Institute, Stephen and Nataly Neuwirth. The event will be held at the Young Israel of New Rochelle, Sunday October 6, 9:30 am. Books will be available for purchase. ·

Queens College Annual Sephardic Lecture, “A Sephardic Approach to Tradition and Modernity: Its Value to Us All,” Wednesday October 9, 7:30-8:30 pm.

Sponsored by our member, Mrs. Elsi Levy. · Scholar-in-Residence, Congregation Chovevei Tzion in Chicago, Shabbat December 6-7. This weekend will combine themes in Bible and a Sephardic philosophy. Reservations are through Cong. Chovevei Tzion. ·

Weekly classes in the Book of Judges at Lincoln Square Synagogue (68th Street and Amsterdam Avenue in Manhattan).

Wednesdays from 7:15-8:15 pm from October 16-December 18 (except for November 27). There are sponsorship opportunities available (suggested sponsorship: $360). For more information contact Ms. Elana Stein-Hain, [email protected]. ·

A course on “How to Teach Bible in Synagogues” to the Graduate Program for Women in Advanced Talmudic Study at Stern College for Women (Yeshiva University). The goal is to train these elite students how to serve more effectively as scholars-in-residence or as future synagogue professionals. This is for students in the Graduate Program only.

Here are several other projects that I've been working on: ·

Reprinting my first collection of biblical studies, Through an Opaque Lens, as an electronic book (with Kodesh Press). The goal is to bring this project to fruition and then do the same for the next two collections, Revealed Texts, Hidden Meanings and Creating Space between Peshat and Derash. ·

Working with the Aleph Beta Academy (alephbeta.org) to develop online classes that survey the Bible.

Thank you for your support and encouragement, and I look forward to building this vision with you and the broader community in the coming year and beyond. Shanah tovah.

I welcome your ideas and suggestions. Please feel free to contact me at [email protected]. To join the Institute, to contribute, or to learn more about our work, please go to our website, www.jewishideas.org.

Hayyim Angel

National Scholar, Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals