National Scholar Updates

Pressures Faced by Posekim: A Personal Reflection 1
by Michael J. Broyde
 

When someone poses a halakhic question, the authority offering an answer or issuing a
decision—the posek, or decisor, and in plural, posekim or decisors—is faced with five important
considerations (or pressures, if you prefer) that can incline them to answer the question in
different ways. These considerations are as follows:
1. Is the Jewish law in this case clear or indeterminate? If indeterminate, what presses one to
pick this option over another?
2. How will the person who asks the question respond to the answer? Is this something that
the decisor needs to consider when resolving the issue at hand?
3. How will the community respond to the question and the answer? Is this a pressing
matter for the community, one in which an answer will likely bring a swift and vocal
communal response? Or, rather, is this of relative insignificance to the broader
community?
4. Are there reasons to answer publicly so that others will see both the question and the
answer?
5. Will people misunderstand the answer to permit something that the posek does not intend
to permit, or prohibit what was not intended to prohibit?
Each of these considerations generates complexities worth exploring—and I am sure there
are others that I am not considering here. My hope is that those who ask and answer questions of
Jewish law will be girded and guided by this short essay. May both those who ask and those who
answer remain virtuous and determined to stand for the authentic values one needs to stand for,
resisting the social tides that can dilute our observance.

The Starting Point: Is Applied Jewish Law Clear or Indeterminate?

The first question is very basic, but also the most important because it asks: “What really
is the halakha in this case?” There are two possible scenarios that the decisor might find
themselves in. First, in some matters of halakha, Jewish law accepts the possible propriety of
more than one answer. Thus, the job of the decisor in those cases is to decide not only what the
ideal halakhic answer is in that particular case, but also which answer best fits the needs of
person asking the question. This, of course, differs sharply from the second scenario, where only
one answer is consistent with Jewish Law—and there are many cases where this is true. But, this
essay focuses on cases where more than one answer is possible.

Importantly, halakha has deep doctrines of indeterminacy in ritual law. Broadly speaking,
Jewish law considers minority opinions that are not proven wrong as possibly correct. Thus, they
may be relied on in a time of need. In fact, even opinions of just one significant authority can be

relied on in cases of urgent need. 2 This principle impacts the role of the decisor as follows:
Sometimes one is asked a question regarding a matter for which one does not have a firm and
clear view of the halakha, nor can one find a single correct answer that is supported by both
custom and practice. I will give an example of such a case later in this article. Nevertheless, the
decisor is called upon to figure out which approach is the correct one for the matter at hand. 3
Based on my conversations with others, this question—how many disputes are still open and
how much discretion does an individual decisor have—is the single most important point of
disparity among authorities who answer questions of halakha. 4

Some claim that most legal disputes in Jewish law (maybe all, at least in theory) can be
resolved internally and textually by reference to certain talmudic logical rules that are universally
accepted within traditional Jewish jurisprudence. While this is not the case (this group of
decisors concedes) for secondary matters of ritual custom or theology, it is for matters of
functional Jewish law. Indeed, for this school of decisors, properly applied logic will resolve
almost all the disputes of previous generations. Furthermore, many decisors have a deep trust of
their own logic and comfortably consider disputes closed because they have thought about a
matter in detail and have determined what they consider to be the correct answer.

A second, separate school of thought reaches essentially the same outcome—nearly all
disputes can be conclusively resolved—but does so from a very different starting point. These
decisors posit that almost no dispute can actually be resolved by reference to first tier rules of
Jewish jurisprudence (unlike school one, above), since—at least among giants of Jewish law—it
is exceedingly rare that one view is demonstrably incorrect. Instead, they resolve disputes by
resorting to binding second tier rules which resolve disputes, rules such as “follow the current
majority” or “be strict on matters of biblical law.” Ashkenazim, for instance, follow Rabbi
Moshe Isserless (Rama), and Orthodox Jews in America accept the authority of Rabbi Moshe
Feinstein. All such rules are to be followed. Disputes are thus functionally closed by reference to
the customs around us.

A third school of thought argues that the two approaches outlined above are functionally
correct with respect to how people and communities ought to function on a regular basis. They
give power to custom (minhag) both in ritual, commercial, and family law matters, since in the
real world, law needs consistency of outcomes and certainty of results. These rules are thus
binding because they are followed and not the other way around. This is the way (argues this
school of thought) that Jewish legal theory has evolved over time, and it allows (if you will
excuse me for saying this) Jewish law to be considered a legal system rather than merely a
personal ethical system. Yet what this means practically is that if you live in a place with a well-
established ritual practice, that practice is the halakha for all intents and purposes, even as one
can agree in theory that it is no better than a different outcome and is no more correct in God’s
eyes.

The final school of thought rejects all of this, both as a matter of legal theory and also as
a matter of actual practice, at least in a time of need, certainly for personal questions that impact
no one else. 5 Instead they construct Jewish law as a spectrum of opinions from the ideal view to
keep to one that is minimally acceptable in time of urgent need. This school of thought proposes
three basic ideas. First, very few opinions are ever truly and completely rejected as definitively
wrong. 6 Second, in a time of need, any opinion can be relied on unless it is one of those opinions
that is distinctly considered wrong. Third, this matter is left to the judgment of individual Jewish
law authorities who may decide for themselves and their followers what the rules ought to be,
both as an ideal and in a time of need. There is no formal hierarchy at all. In this model, Jewish

law is much more open, and the customs mentioned in school three above are social and not
jurisprudential. 7

As I have noted elsewhere, 8 I am inclined to think that the dominant model of Jewish
ritual law follows the final school of thought because any halakhic authority who confronts a
real-world problem of ritual law has many more choices and options than we might give them
credit for at first glance.

Allow me to give you a simple illustrative example (which I will return to at the end of this
paper). How many days of Yom Tov should a tourist from the Diaspora observe when in Israel?
Is the answer one (as they do in Israel) or two (as they do in America)? This matter was the focal
point of a dispute between Rabbi Yosef Karo and Rabbi Tzvi Ashkenazi many centuries ago.
Rabbi Karo (d. 1575) adopts the view that a tourist in Israel keeps two days, as this is a matter of
personal practice, and argues that, so long as one is a resident of the Diaspora, wherever one
is—even in Israel—one keeps two days. Rabbi Ashkenazi (d. 1718) maintains the opposite, that
one who is in Israel only observes one day of Yom Tov. To him, this is not a personal custom, but
a geographical one—and everyone in Israel keeps one day only. Most classical Jewish law
authorities adopt the view of Rabbi Karo, and only a minority adopt the view of Rabbi
Ashkenazi. So, how do different decisors resolve this matter for their communities?

1. Some examine the talmudic and other sources and determine the correct answer on their
own, using the logical and textual tools of rabbinics.
2. Some argue that this matter is settled by the rulings of the previous generations, and one
should follow the majority view.
3. Some argue that this matter is in doubt, and one should follow the view of Rabbi Karo
and be strict for Rabbi Ashkenazi, and some reverse this and adopt the view of Rabbi
Ashkenazi while being strict for Rabbi Karo. Some treat this as a matter of full doubt and
are strict for both views.
4. Some rule that this matter is in doubt, and one should follow the custom of the
community they are in and the rabbi(s) who established those rules. 9

Of course, one should not be surprised to discover that some think it is best to follow Rabbi
Karo, but posit that, in a time of need, one can follow Rabbi Ashkenazi. 10

This example offers an important takeaway: Jewish law is a somewhat flexible legal
system vis-a-vis ritual matters. While there might be an ideal answer to a question, there are also
less-than-ideal answers that are also viable. Practitioners of Jewish law know this, and that is
why different communities of followers of halakha exist and one of the reasons decisors differ
from each other. Anyone who has learned any substantive area of halakha knows that cases of
urgent need are treated differently. The idea that in some ideal world all authorities of halakha
would answer all questions identically for all people misses exactly that one person’s
circumstances are not the same as another’s, and one community’s situation is not identical to
another’s.

What this means is that in the “real world” of answering questions from people—rather
than in writing a “Code of Jewish Law for all times and all places” like the Rambam’s Mishneh
Torah—one learns to listen closely to the person asking the question. Placing the question in
context and in a situation is important, and recognizing the range of options that are present is
crucial. On the other hand, there are questions that presuppose a value system that is outside the
pale of Torah Judaism—one that reflects a set of values that are rejected by the overwhelming

consensus of halakhic decisions of the centuries. Determining what is the range of viable
halakhic opinions helps one understand both what is in and what is outside the range of Torah
values.

The Next Step: Objectively Correct versus Subjectively Right

The next set of questions that a decisor always asks concerns a common set of problems
dealing with responses to the decisor’s decision. These questions are:
1. How will the person who asks the question respond to the answer? Is this another
consequence that needs to be considered?
2. How will the community respond to the question and the answer?
Another equally important question—one unstated (and virtually undiscussed) in the halakhic
literature—is, “What gives a decisor the right to consider people’s (and community’s) responses
to the decisor’s decisions—decisions based on the truth as the decisor sees it?”

I suspect that the ability of a decisor to ask these questions is also unique to halakha as a
legal system. 11 Sometimes, decisors decline to answer questions and affirmatively refer
questioners to someone who will provide them with the lenient answer that the questioner needed
but that the original answerer was unwilling to provide. This "punting" is a way that a posek
deals with pressure of "I need this answer" from a questioner, even where the decisor thinks that
the answer they want is not the correct answer, but nevertheless recognizes the real need for the
questioner. The posek therefore sends the question to another authoritative decisor who is
prepared to rule as the questioner senses they need.

Consider, for example, the practice of the late great Jewish law authority, Rabbi Shlomo
Zalman Auerbach, with regard to a subset of questions relating to aborting fetuses with certain
types of defects. 12 He would refer such people to Rabbi Eliezer Waldenberg [Tzitiz Eliezer] who
permitted those abortions, although Rabbi Auerbach himself thought that such abortions were
prohibited and perhaps even tantamount to murder. Nevertheless, he recognized that the
consequences of his answer would be difficult or bad for this individual person, and, since there
was a legitimate view found among recognized halakhic decisors, he would send such questions
to those recognized decisors.

His practice teaches a vital point about issuing decisions [pesak]: One decisor can (but need
not) send a person to a decisor who can provide a person with the answer they need. But what
right does one posek have to send the case to a different posek?

The justification is revealing about the role and practice of Jewish law decisors generally.
First and most importantly, it demonstrates that these authorities are meant to safeguard the
community; they consider the impact of their answers on the people around them. Second, it
demonstrates that the decisor is aware that there are clearly cases where not seeking the
objectively right answer is proper. Rather, the decisor may (and perhaps should) find the answer
that fits the needs of the questioner and their community as a valid expression of Jewish law. 13
There are at least six different approaches to “punting” that are worth noting, each of which
points to a different aspect of the decisor’s role. The first is derived from a talmudic story in
Hullin 99b:

When people would come before Rabbi Ami to ask about the halakha of a thigh that was
cooked with the sciatic nerve inside, he would send them before Rabbi Yitzḥak ben Ḥalov,
who would rule leniently about this issue and say that is was permitted, in the name of
Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi. Rabbi Ami himself did not hold accordingly, but he did not
wish to rule stringently for others. And the halakha is that sciatic nerves do not impart
flavor at all. (Translation from Sefaria.)

This story suggests the following guidance on “punting” (similar to what was discussed
above): One decisor many decline to answer a question and send it to another of equal status and
authority. This is permitted even when the first is sure that the second view is wrong. Now, why
Rabbi Ami did this, and how he was justified in doing so, are good questions and not explained
by the Talmud. Rashi implies that Rabbi Ami was justified in punting simply because the
questioner was expecting a more liberal view. In other words, according to Rashi, decisors can
generally punt matters where they do not want to impose their stricter standards on those seeking
more liberal answers.

A second approach to punting can be construed as an example of “soft pluralism.” In other
words, Jewish law recognizes many questions has three (or more) answers: the right one, the
wrong one, and the one (or ones) that one can accept in a time of need. The Talmud sometimes
even acknowledges that in times of urgent need, one can accept any view as legitimate so long as
it is plausible. 14 Halakhic authorities frequently concede that views other than their own (even as
they think their view is most correct) are plausible, and in a time of need, these other views can
be accepted as correct. In this model, halakhic authorities decide what views besides their own
are subjectively right even if they are not objectively correct. 15

There is a corollary to this notion. A decisor may consider another’s subjectively right
decision as completely wrong, and yet still be comfortable in allowing the questioner to rely on
that decision because it is based on the holdings of a scholar or rabbi who himself is reliable (bar
samcha). I would go even further and say that although this second view is incomprehensibly
wrong to the first decisor, he may direct people to that second view simply because the one who
is articulating it is a respected authority of Jewish law. 16

A third way of conceptualizing punting, and of understanding the talmudic source above, is
to maintain that the only time an authority may refer a questioner to another authority is when
the first truly believes the second authority’s view of Jewish law is correct. This issue, rather, is
merely that his own view is stricter than the minimal legal standard. That is a possible reading of
the above passage, particularly if one understands that the normative Jewish law codified in the
last line of the page rejects the view of Rabbi Ami. 17

A fourth view—taken from the talmudic recounting in Hullin 48a—seems to be that that one
can “punt” a questioner to another decisor only when he is uncertain as to what the correct legal
ruling ought to be. That Talmudic source states:

The Gemara relates that Rabbi Yitzḥak bar Yosef was walking after Rabbi Yirmeya in
the butchers’ market. He saw these lungs that were full of cysts, and he wished to
determine the halakha with regard to them. He said to Rabbi Yirmeya: Doesn’t the Master
desire a piece of meat? If so, meat from those animals is for sale. Rabbi Yirmeya, not
wanting to issue a ruling with regard to the meat, said to him: I have no money. Rabbi
Yitzḥak bar Yosef said to him: I will buy them for you on credit. Rabbi Yirmeya realized
that he could not avoid issuing a ruling, so he said to him: What can I do for you? As

when people came before Rabbi Yoḥanan with such lungs, he would send them before
Rabbi Yehuda, son of Rabbi Shimon, who would instruct them in such cases in the name
of Rabbi Elazar, son of Rabbi Shimon, to permit the meat for consumption. But Rabbi
Yoḥanan himself does not hold accordingly and does not permit the meat. I practice
stringency in accordance with his opinion. (Translation from Sefaria.)
The narrative here seems to limit referrals to cases of uncertainty. 18

A fifth view involves hierarchical authority. The work Vealayhu Lo Yuval, which is about
questions asked to the great Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, recounts the following incident: 19
Sending the Questioner to the Chief Rabbis: Rabbi Ephraim Greenfeld told me that a
relative of his suffered a brain hemorrhage. The doctors were certain that he had no
chance of survival and asked the family’s permission to donate his organs to other
patients. Rabbi Ephraim spoke with his relatives and knew that whatever ruling the Rabbi
[Shlomo Zalman Auerbach] would give on this matter would be accepted by them, so he
approached with a religious doctor from the hospital during the late-night hours to ask
Rabbi Auerbach what to do. Rabbi Auerbach told them: In my opinion, it is forbidden to
take organs from him to save other patients, but I am aware that the Chief Rabbis of
Israel [Rabbi Avraham Elkana Kahana Shapira and the Rishon LeZion Rabbi Mordechai
Eliyahu] permit in such a situation to take organs to save other patients—you should go
and ask them!

It is possible to read this story as permitting only referrals to the “chief rabbis” or maybe only to
decisors viewed by oneself as superior, and even so only on communal questions. 20
A final view on punting, this anecdote notwithstanding, a close read of the article “Mah
Enosh: Reflections on the Relation between Judaism and Humanism” by Rabbi Aharon
Lichtenstein inclines one to think that maybe this phenomenon is simply another example of
Jewish law’s desire to accommodate the humanity of people, without a deep specific unique
jurisprudential basis. In other words, “punting” reflects the desire of Jewish law to allow people
to function in a time of need, with a variety of tools, not each of which is fully individually
jurisprudentially based, but more reflective of human necessity and the desire of halakha to
function than any other idea. 21

Whatever the reason is, there is no doubt that sometimes decisors refer questions to other
authorities, and that this is part of the job. It is consistent with how authorities of Jewish law help
people find the right answer for a person without personally saying things that the decisor thinks
are mistaken. In this process, the decisor considers how the questioner would respond to their
answer, as well as how the community will understand and respond. 22

A Final Consideration and a Caveat: Will the Decision Be Properly Understood?

There are two final, but no less important, factors that a decisor must consider before offering
their legal decision:
1. Are there reasons to answer this question publicly to bring this discussion to broader
attention?

2. Will people misunderstand the answer to permit something that the decisor does not
intend to permit, or else prohibit something that the decisor does not intend to prohibit?
Both questions are more sociological than legal. Consider, for instance, the following
illustrative example: Over the last decade, decisors have seen increasingly more questions on
what role a person who is in a same-sex relationship (SSR) can play in an Orthodox community.
At some point, these questions need to be addressed not on an ad-hoc basis, but in a more
systemic way. This is true for three reasons. First, reasoned written material allows people to
understand the logic of the decision-maker and thereby the Jewish legal process. Second, written
material creates communal and general expectations so that people are not put in a situation in
which they are unaware of what is expected of them as a matter of Jewish law (whether they
follow the law or not) and thereby made to be unexpectedly embarrassed. Third, written
discussion allows many authorities to see what others are doing and modify their public (and
private) expectations considering the norms of other communities.

Yet, in writing decisions down, there is always the concern of misunderstanding. Every
authority worries that rulings will be misunderstood beyond their proper parameters and will be
taken to permit something that the writer did not intend to permit or to prohibit something that
they did not intend to prohibit. This fear of misunderstanding—or sometimes understanding all
too well what is on the authority’s mind, but what they are (in fact) unwilling to permit—is
critically important in understanding when one chooses to write an answer (teshuva) or an
article, or, why a decisor might issue a resolution with no firm reason that clearly addresses the
situation, thus leaving the explanation of “why” somewhat unresolved. A desire to contain, or
better still, avoid misunderstandings will often dictate much of what one writes and in what
language one writes and even in what style one chooses to speak. Writing about SSRs is an
excellent example of that. Sometimes one wants to convey a complex idea, namely, that while
this conduct is a violation of Jewish law, one does not want to see these violators treated any
differently than any other violators of comparable matters of Jewish law. 23

Let me add an important caveat: We are discussing in this article the pressures on the
decisor who is answering question, and not on the questioner, a topic certainly worthy of another
article. Jewish law has a clear rule prohibiting a petitioner from asking the same question to more
than one authority; once a person directly asks a question to an authority and the question is
answered, the questioner is bound by the answer. The authority can punt, but the questioner
cannot. The ability to choose which opinion is the correct one is left to the person who answers
the question and not to the person who asks it. The questioner has one—and only
one—enormous decision: to whom should they ask the question. Indeed, to a great extent, this is
the most fundamental question all Jews have—one that shapes the Jewish law as they actually
practice it: What community should they join, and to whom should they direct questions of
Jewish law and ethics? 24

Six Examples that Highlight the Complexities Faced by Authorities

Let us move away from the abstract toward six concrete examples that provide insight into
the complexities decisors regularly face. 25
1. End of Shabbat

The first example deals with an oft-asked question: When is the earliest time one can end
Shabbat? I was recently asked by a congregational rabbi, on behalf of a congregant in a dire
financial-legal situation, when was the earliest time they could sign a document on a Saturday
night to avoid a significant financial problem. Sunset in New York City is at 4:28 pm on
December 9, and, for reasons that are beyond the scope of this paragraph, the congregant needed
to personally sign a document in front of a judge before 5:00 pm on Saturday. The person
worshipped in a Chabad synagogue, which ends Shabbat at 5:15, 45 minutes after sunset. Jewish
law here is far from clear, with opinions permitting Shabbat violations 13.5 minutes (relative) a
mil after sunset, as early as 4:46 pm (Gra), and some being even more strict, arguing that Shabbat
ends at 5:57 (Rabbenu Tam). 26 Yet, it is also clear that the normative custom in America does not
follow either the minimalist understanding of the Gra, or the maximalist understand of Rabbenu
Tam. Nearly all synagogues end Shabbat no earlier than 35 minutes after sunset and no later than
50 or 72 minutes after sunset. Chabad synagogues uniformly ended Shabbat 45 minutes after
sunset, as is their custom. 27 This person needed to be in a judge’s chambers to sign no later than
32 minute before sunset and also needed some time to prepare to do so. Given the indeterminacy
of the law, the fact that most American communities adopt the view of the Gra, treating
additional waiting as fulfilling the special mitzvah of adding additional time for Shabbat, and
that this question could be answered without setting any general policy, I told the rabbi to tell his
congregant that he could walk to the location in question with his identification in hand (in a
place where there was an eruv) and sign the form any time after 4:51 pm. 28

2. SSM Kohen Performing the Priestly Blessing

Over the past few years, I have been occasionally asked about whether a man who is in a same-
sex marriage (SSM) and is a kohen can engage in the priestly blessing (duchen). Although at first
glance one might intuit that this is prohibited, actually the law is reasonable clear
that—anomalously and unusually for sexual sins by kohanim—same-sex relations are not the
type of sexual sin that prevent a kohen from blessing the people. This is in accordance with the
Mishnah Berurah, Arukh haShulhan, Kaf haHaim, and Yalkut Yosef, and is unlike many other
serious sexual sins. The exact reason for this is set out in the note below. 29 Yet, as Rabbi Feinstein
notes in his answer on whether a kohen who violates Shabbat can engage in the priestly blessing
(where there is some basis, although far from controlling, to prohibit such), there is an argument
that a synagogue rabbi can ask kohanim to leave the sanctuary and not engage in the blessing to
protect other values. 30 For a long time, I answered similarly. However, after engaging different
questions over time, I set out a few months ago to lay out my views in an article, so that (1)
leniently permitting a kohen in a SSM to engage in the priestly blessing should not be
misunderstood as lenient in other areas related to SSRs or other sexual sins by kohanim; (2) these
types of questions are relatively recent and community-wide guidance is needed; and (3) I
thought it was good to combat the sense that halakha was always unduly strict in this area which
was preventing people from doing a mitzvah.

3. Second Day Yom Tov in Israel

A regular question asked of almost all American rabbis—including me—involves what to do as a
tourist in Israel during a holy day. Should one observe one day of the holy day, two days, or
some combination? Many views abound. I personally try very hard to follow the view of Rabbi
Aharon Lichtenstein and observe the second day as a stricture (lehumra); I do not observe the
second day of Yom Tov prayer and ritual when in Israel, though I abstain from work in general

and from what would be biblically prohibited work on the first day. 31 Even my own family thinks
my view is difficult to implement and hard to understand. Yet, after due consideration, it is my
view that correctly balances the views of the Rabbis Karo and Ashkenazi. Nonetheless, when
people who are not uniquely my students ask me this question, I tend to send them to one of my
many friends who are Chabad rabbis—some of whom even were my students—who tell them to
observe only one day, since that is the common custom in fact in our community. I recognize that
what I think the best legal decision might be is viewed by many as burdensome, complex, and
intellectually indeterminant. Sometimes, one does not have to share one’s view, and one can send
people to decisors that provide them with answers that resonate with their expectations and allow
them to function.

4. Error in the Creation of Marriage

Many years ago, I wrote an article on the rare situation in which a woman can leave her marriage
without a divorce (and yet where her husband is still alive) entitled “Error in the Creation of
Jewish Marriages: Under what Circumstances Can Error in the Creation of a Marriage Void the
Marriage without Requiring a Get according to halakha.” 32 The piece explains Rabbi Moshe
Feinstein’s views on this matter. For many years, I was privileged to have assisted Rabbi Gedalia
Dov Schwartz zt”l on some matters in which a woman was permitted to remarry without a
religious divorce decree (get) based on an error in the creation of the marriage, and I have been
involved in other such matters since his passing. Such cases are rare and complex, and one easily
worries that they will be subject to abuse by some in our community who are sincerely seeking
to solve very sad agunah cases (cases where one spouse has left but the other cannot remarry
with a religious divorce), yet lack the firm legal foundation to validly argue for a marriage to be
void in its creation. 33 In addition, determinations of this type are very public and are subject to
review by many great authorities. While my view is that cases like these are worthy of ending
without a religious divorce decree, others do not agree, and the child that results might be labeled
a mamzer—born of a forbidden union—by their community. Based on all these factors, I only
issue decision letters when they are endorsed by great Jewish law authorities, and I abstain from
merely voicing my personal opinions unsupported by a leading scholar. I do work exceedingly
hard to find giants of Jewish law to agree in cases as needed. In some areas of legal decision-
making, consensus is needed, and idiosyncratic views are unwise for a community.

5. Tripartite Prenuptial Agreement

The same can be said for the tripartite prenuptial agreement I authored many years ago. Solutions
to the agunah problems abound. However, we all recognize that “solutions” that are not accepted
by the Orthodox community are functionally ineffective, since the woman will think she is free
of her Jewish marriage, but the community will not. This is a bad place to be in; thinking oneself
as single and yet being married is unwise, and so too is thinking of oneself as single when most
Jewish law authorities deny it. Even if some rabbis think an individual is single, it might be just
as bad a status. Thus, in terms of my decision-making, I am swayed by the force of the question,
“How will the person asking the question respond to the answer? Is there another consequence
that one must consider?” This drives me to conclude that until a critical mass of significant legal
authorities endorses this tripartite prenuptial agreement, it ought to remain something I think is
correct, but not something I instruct people to use. Even so, I am aware of the fact that many,
many couples in Israel and America actually are using this document, 34 and that it has many
advantages in cases of spousal death (especially halitza procedures), men in a permanent

vegetative state, 35 and in terms of its independence from secular law. So, I share the document
with the community, uncertain of the legal consequences and without instructing people to use it
or not.

6. Hair Covering

Our final example is, at some level, the one that is most complex. Many years ago, I wrote an
article in Tradition explaining the legal basis for married women to not cover their hair, and it
provided what I considered then (and my sense that this is correct has only increased) an
excellent justification for conduct, without endorsing it as a legal determination (limud zekhut). 36
My abstract view is that Jewish law here is indeterminate—there are numerous pre-modern
decisors who rule that in a society where modest women do not cover their hair, Jewish law does
not require it—and thus a person who comes from a family where married women do not cover
their hair need not start. I am also aware that none of the great legal decisors with whom I
regularly consult actually agrees with my view, and the same is true for nearly all authorities of
the last century. Furthermore, many women view this matter as a critical one; some do not want
to be part of a community in which women think they need to cover their hair, and others have
the exact opposite view. Furthermore, I worry that people will understand any permissive ruling
with regard to hair to apply to many other situations of modesty, a uniquely problematic issue in
an immodest society. Based on these factors, I wrote the article only as a thought exercise.
Nevertheless, I regularly get asked questions from women about hair covering. I have
three basic approaches to these questions. First, I try my hardest to avoid directly answering
them. I say things like, “In the article I explain the basis for not covering,” or “Read the article,”
or “The Ben Ish Hai permits women not to cover their hair when modest women generally do
not,” or “There certainly are Jewish law authorities who think married women need not cover
their hair when modest women do not,” and other such comments that do not directly speak in
my own name. Second, I appreciate the public complexity associated with these
questions—being liberal on issues of modesty in immodest times is hard. Third, I do not answer
these questions in writing having already written once.

But, truth be told, sometimes rules are meant to be broken—I was recently called by a
great Jewish law authority in Brooklyn who told me “Mrs. X will be calling you shortly to speak
with you about hair covering, and you should tell her that she does not have to cover her hair.”
So, I asked this great Jewish law authority, “If that is the right answer to this question, why don’t
you tell, after all, you are a Torah giant!” He responded, “I am Rabbi Ami and you are Rabbi
Yitzḥak ben Ḥalov in this question.” [See Hullin 99b, cited above at page 13 .] So, I did as I was
told and directed this woman that she need not continue to cover her hair.

Conclusions

The process of answering Jewish legal questions starts with knowing the answer, but it
does not end there. It moves from there to knowing what other answers are possible and who
provides those other answers. It then moves on to formulating answers in a way that works for
the community that one is serving, including sending questions to others. Nuance, complexity,
and sensitivity to the community are part of the tools used by those who answer questions of
Jewish law.

1 Thank you to Rabbi Hayyim Angel, editor of Conversations, for inviting me to prepare this article. His posing of
the thoughtful question to me of “I thought it would be a very valuable contribution for you to reflect on what it is
like to be a posek [one who answers questions of Jewish Law], the pressures you face to conform, other communal
issues that you think the public should be aware of, etc. Given your expertise and integrity to stand up for your own
principles, I think it would be a very worthwhile perspective to bring to the public” framed this article. I attempt to
answer the questions he poses, aware of my limitations. Thank you as well to Rabbi Reuven Travis for his editorial
help.
In this article, I do not discuss the pressures—actually very different—as a dayan in commercial matters where one
is adjudicating between two parties or pressures faced by dayanim generally in many matters. The pressures in those
situations are different, and much more governed by technical halakha, as found in Shulhan Arukh Hoshen Mishpat
9, 10, 12 25 and other places.
2 See, for example, Encyclopedia Talmudit, Hefsed Merubeh 10:36 around notes 44–50.
3 I am aware of Rav Aharon Lichtenstein’s insightful presentation of the difference between a rule [pesak] and a
ruling [pseika], as explained in “The Human and Social Factor in Halakha” (Tradition 36:1 1–25 (2002). If Rav
Aharon (truly one of the greatest minds our community has ever produced) is arguing that pesak [in the sense of
writing a rule] is the idealized form of Jewish law, and pseika is the practical application of these idealized rules to
the reality that we live in, then I think almost all halakhic authorities are engaging in pseika when they answer
questions, and this distinction is not valuable, even as it is true. On the other hand, if Rav Aharon means that halakha
in less-than-ideal situations is pseika and halakha in a perfect word is pesak, then I think this distinction is over-
stated in the real world. Even the real world of talmudic, medieval, and early pre-modern authorities, these sages
considered the hard and complex nature of reality in which they lived when they wrote rules. Therefore, all is just
pseika, other than just a few works of idealized Jewish law, like the Mishneh Torah. For example, is instructing
someone to use a heter iska [pro-forma document than permits charging interest] an act of pesak or pseika? Is
instructing a woman that birth control is proper in any particular situation pesak or pseika? Is permitting carrying a
gun on Shabbat pesak or pseika? Sadly enough, we live in a less than ideal world—where it does not rain gold coins,
raising children is complex, and antisemitism abounds—so many challenges are present. Let me add that there is
palpable tension between the above article and another article of Rav Aharon on halakhic process entitled “Mah
Enosh,” to be discussed later.
4 To be clear, there are times when one might have a clear view of the halakha or can answer the question based on
both custom and practice but declines to do so. Later in this article, I will discuss “punting”—the Jewish law
phenomenon in which a halakhic authority is certain what the answer is, and yet will decline to answer the question
because it provides the questioner an answer that they do not want in a case that is important to them. Needless to
say, this phenomenon requires that there be an authentic posek who is comfortable providing the answer the party is
seeking.
5 This is in contrast to question where even though this is actually a personal ritual matter as a matter of fact, it is a
communal matter since the community actually adjudicates by its conduct whether the result is accepted. For
example, whether a woman needs a Jewish divorce or not is a personal ritual question only she may ask about
herself—but a determination by a rabbi that she does not is, in fact, second guessed by anyone who she wishes to
marry.
6 When I say “wrong” in this context, I mean that the view cannot be relied on in any circumstances, even though of
course the view is well within the umbrella of Torah, and one fulfills the mitzvah of Torah study by studying them.
The views of Beit Shammai in the Mishnah are one such as example, as the talmudic rabbis themselves note.
7 The contrast between Jewish law and American law here is complete: Minority opinions in American law are just
for study, but are of no legal value at all, whereas in Jewish law, most minority opinions are validly used in
situations of need.
8 I do not discuss this issue here at great length, but I have a few books that do discuss this issue in various forms.
See Setting the Table: An Introduction to the Jurisprudence of Rabbi Yechiel Mikhel Epstein’s Arukh haShulhan,
Academic Studies Press (2021) (co-author: Shlomo Pill) and The Codification of Jewish Law and an Introduction to
the Jurisprudence of the Mishna Berura, Brighton, Mass.: Academic Studies Press (2013). (co-author: Ira Bedzow)
and Innovation in Jewish Law: A Case Study of Chiddush in Havineinu Jerusalem, Urim Publications (2010). The
reality of legal indeterminacy helps explain why works of Jewish Jurisprudence are of less common in Jewish law,
since if legal indeterminacy governs, jurisprudence is less significant.
9 See Rabbi Joseph Karo, Avkot Rochel 26 and Rabbi Tzvi Ashkenazi, Chachmat Tzvi 167. For more on this, see the
excellent discussion by my friend and former co-author Rabbi Howard Jachter, in Gray Matter I at 217–224 at
https://www.sefaria.org.il/Gray_Matter_I%2C_Laws_of_Holidays%2C_The_Second_Day_of_Yom_Tov_for_Visito

rs_to_Israel.10?lang=he and Rabbi Dr. David Horowitz, “Visitors in Israel and Yom Tov Sheni,” JHCS 6:79–92
(1983) at https://www.yutorah.org/lectures/735671/ . Of course, within the views that compromise between the two
views there is much nuance on issues.
10 See for example Rabbi Hershel Schachter, “Regarding the Second Day Yom Tov for Visitors in Eretz Yisroel” on
Torahweb.org.
11 American law and the common law from which it descends certainly does not allow this question to be asked. See
Code of Conduct for United States Judges, Canon 3.
12 See for example “Abortion in halakha” https://www.yutorah.org/lectures/lecture.cfm/1021843/rabbi-hershel-
schachter/abortion-in- halakha/ at minute 22:30 to 23:10 for Rabbi Hershel Schachter recounting such. If you listen
closely, you see that Rabbi Auerbach recognized that the consequences of his answer for this person was bad for this
person, and since there was a different legitimate view found among recognized posekim, he would send such
questions to that recognized halakhic authority. I was told that Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein also had this approach to
abortion as I note in “What Does Jewish Law Think American Abortion Law Ought to Be?” at note 16. I was told that it
was the practice of the Lubavitcher Rebbe with regard to some questions related to Jewish law and adoption to
instruct people to ask Rabbi Soloveitchik; See R. Tzvi Schachter, Penina HaRav page 268 which notes one such
story.
13 It is clear that there are some halakhic authorities who did not think this correct. For example, the great Rabbi
Moshe Feinstein in Iggrot Moshe OC 5:20:16 prohibits declining to answer questions when both the facts and the
law are clear to the person who is being asked. He states, “But, when one is asked on a clearly defined set of facts
what he thinks the Jewish law is, it is obvious that he must respond as is proper for this person and it is prohibited to
decline to answer and send them to other experts …”. Furthermore, this idea is found rather directly and
unmistakably in the penultimate paragraph of his introduction to volume 1 of the same work as well. There are two
possible ways to explain Rav Moshe: One is that if he felt that if a leniency was needed, he would find it and give it
himself, and the second that a Jewish law authority when asked is called upon to answer and not punt even if this
authority is stricter than others. Furthermore, it seems clear that Rabbi Feinstein felt this was the rule even if others
around one was more eminent authorities. See Iggrot Moshe YD 1:101. Let me add as support to this view, and
maybe as an explanation of what this dispute is about, that the core question might be whether the formulation found
in Shulhan Arukh YD 242:14, which notes that “Any scholar who is eligible to rule and does not rule, is depriving
people of Torah and putting a stumbling block in front of the masses” is rule of law, or a rule of reason, or simply
ethical advice, or limited to the situations where the scholar solves the problem. Rabbi Feinstein understands this as
a rule of law, and others as a practical application to help people.
14 In the words of the Talmud “It is proper to accept the rule of Rabbi X in a time of need.”
15 See, for example, Ktav Sofer YD 77, who in parts of the teshuva formulates the rule this way.
16 In the above Ktav Sofer, other parts of the same teshuva can be read this way.
17 This seems to be the view of Rama. See YD 228:21 in the name of some say and Rama OC 472:7 and Responsa of
Rashba 3:304 and others. This is part of the discussion of why—in cases of urgent economic need—we are lenient
in ritual matters. See also Pri Megadim, Formulation of the Question (first order).
18 That seems to be the view supported by the above Iggrot Moshe in OC 5:20:16, which denies the right to send a
question to another who will provide a different answer when the initial person asked is sure of the answer.
19 See Nachum Stepansky, Ve’alayhu Lo Yuval: The Insights and Practices of Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, YD
58 at page 91. A thoughtful reader of this article suggested that in cases in which the person will do the sin anyway,
it is better to find them some authority who will permit this action, since it is better pastorally that a person not view
themselves as a sinner, and this is a rationale for punting, as well.
20 The next story (59) in this work involves a similar referral, but on a communal matter to the Chief Rabbi. It seems
to this writer unlikely that Rabbi Auerbach viewed himself as intellectually subordinate to either of the Chief Rabbis
mentioned although one never knows for certain. At some level, the question posed is whether this is a punt or a
lateral, or a forward pass, to continue the football metaphor.
21 See Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein “Mah Enosh: Reflections on the Relation between Judaism and Humanism” The
Torah Umaddah Journal 14:1–61 (2006/7) also at https://www.etzion.org.il/sites/default/files/2021-01/RAL-
Mah%20Enosh-%20Judaism%20and%20Humanism.pdf particularly in section VI, from pages 29 to 42 as well as
crucial paragraphs on the bottom of page 43 and the top of page 44.

By contrast, the principle to be explored presently—that normative standards may be compromised in
straitened circumstances—does concern the clash of human and halakhic factors. It suggests that, within
limits, extraneous factors may validly intrude upon halakhic judgments; that, for the posek or his
respondent, non-normative considerations may properly enter into normative decision. Clearly,
however—as regards the respondent, certainly—the consideration of such factors must be, at best, a matter
of license. If one may, as a concession to his condition, take certain liberties, these can hardly be elevated
into duties. And even if one argues correctly that it is the halakha itself, which has sanctioned these
liberties—so that they be rightfully regarded as grounded in principle rather than convenience—it has
sanctioned them only as such, as an option of which one may avail himself rather than as an imperative
duty. Hence, the humanistic moment implicit in such permissiveness must be regarded as more significant
than that reflected in pikuach. nefesh or kevod haBeriyyot. Whereas they constitute particular halakhic
concepts relevant to specific areas of halakha, this principle represents a broad flexibility within the
halakhic process generally; and whereas they remain genuinely internal elements, it can, in a very real
sense, be construed as an extraneous factor.
Translating this into the idea of one posek looking for another posek who permits this conduct is not so hard.
22 Not explicitly addressed here, and certainly worthy of more analysis is when should a posek decide to provide a
simple verbal answer, a simple written answer or write a clear explanation. There is no doubt that the same factors
that are considered when deciding to send the question to another are at play in these decisions as well. Of course,
the temperament of the posek is also important, with some extremely hesitant to write, and other more comfortable.
23 See the examples section for more.
24 Forum shopping, prior to asking a question, is abstractly permitted; indeed, many people make very important
religious choices by examining diverse religious communities, considering their views on important matter, and
deciding to join one of them, and then asking the rabbi or rabbis of that community their questions, tempered by the
important idea found in Eruvin 6b that a person who forum shops for both the leniencies of the Shammai school and
the leniencies of the Hillel School is called evil. Of course, people can switch communities when they decide that
such is proper and change who they ask questions to. What they cannot do, however, is ask a question to a rabbi, be
given an answer, decide that this answer does not fit what they want and ask another rabbi the same question, hoping
for a better answer. This article does not explain the unique role and responsibility of a posek who is the rebbe
muvhak—a teacher who one has personally committed to following lockstep—since I think such relationships are
exceedingly rare among readers of this journal, even if it is more common, perhaps, among Belzer Chassidim. For
more on these issues, see Shulhan Arukh YD 242 and the elaborate discussion there among the commentators there
as well as the comments of Shach on SA CM 25:5.
25 I have slightly changed the facts of each of the cases relevant to preserve the anonymity of the questioners. The
details of the questioners hardly matters for the examples.
26 See https://www.myzmanim.com/day.aspx?vars=68949485/12-9-2023/elab///////////////3b6def for a recitation of the
various possible halakhic times. For an excellent new book on the various view, see Rabbi Ahron Notis, The Great
Z’manim Debate (2022). It is worth noting that the above link gives 11 different answers to when Shabbat ends,
from 4:45 to 5:56 and notes on the top of the page that Shabbat ends at 5:14 and others wait until 5:41.
27 See https://www.chabad.org/calendar/candlelighting_cdo/aid/6226/locationid/370/locationtype/1/save/1/tdate/12-
09-2023/jewish/Shabbat-Candle-Lighting-Times.htm which notes that on December 9, 2023, shabbat ends at 5:13,
45 minutes after sunset in New York.
28 Let me contrast this approach with one that I think is rejected by modern posekim nearly universally. Ra'avya
(cited by the Ohr Zarua, Shabbat 76) limiting the torah prohibition of writing to Hebrew and Greek [neither the
language of use in this case]. Although Rama cites this view in SA OC 306:11 as thus only prohibiting writing in the
vernacular rabbinically, there is a distinct sense among the posekim (as noted by Mishna Berurah 306:47 and Arukh
haShulhan OC 306:21) that this view of the Rama is either wrong or a typo and not to be followed as the view of the
Ra’avya is incorrect or alone. If that view were correct, one could have addressed this issue—which would then be a
rabbinic prohibition—in many other different ways. Indeed, I have no doubt that if the Ra’avya were alive today and
still held to his view, it is possible that I would have sent this questioner to the Ra’avya to have him answer this
question. But, in the current generation, I am unaware of any halakhic authority who thinks the Ra’avya is correct.
29 A prepublication version of the article can be found at
https://www.broydeblog.net/uploads/8/0/4/0/80408218/allowing_a_kohein_in_a_same_sex_marriage_to_duchen_fo
r_publication_review_with_ai_appendix_includeded_near_final_for_sharing.pdf and in essence this article
highlights that a kohen in a SSR or SSM is not in a prohibited relationship with anyone uniquely prohibited to marry

a kohen which is the central test for whether a kohen should be prohibited from the priestly blessing (duchaning).
Please read the article if you wish.
30 See Iggrot Moshe OC 1:33 and this discussion in the above article on pages 13–14.
31 See above for more information. For more background see Rabbi David Brofsky, Yom Tov Sheni. who notes "This
position has been adopted by numerous Posekim, although they differ as to the extent to which one should observe
Yom Tov Sheni. While some suggest that one should merely refrain from melakhot [work], others recommend that
one should fulfill the positive commandments, such as the mitzvot of the second seder, hearing the berakhot
[blessings] from another person. R. Soloveitchik and R. Aharon Lichtenstein also rule that one visiting Eretz Yisrael,
including students who come to study but intend to return, should refrain from performing melakhot [work] on the
second day of Yom Tov."
32 https://www.jlaw.com/Articles/KidusheiTaut.html
33 See for example, https://www.torahmusings.com/wp-content/uploads/2005/08/4_2_Broyde.pdf
34 See https://jewishprenup.org/ and see "Tripartite Agreement is Jewish Law" Techumin 37:228–240 (2017). For an
excellent criticism of this agreement, see the thoughtful recording by Rabbi Yona Reiss at
https://www.yutorah.org/sidebar/lecturedata/867961/Response-to-Tripartite-Solution-for-Agunos and his article in
Techumin 37:240-247 (2017) entitled “Veim Shlosh Ayla Lo Ye’aseh La.” For a more sympathetic review, see
Rabbi Mordechai Torczyner, “The Tripartite Agreement: A Prenup Like No Other” at
https://www.yutorah.org/sidebar/lecturedata/918245/The-Tripartite-Agreement:-A-Prenup-Like-No-Other.
35 See my article “Plonit v. Ploni: The Get from the Man in a Permanent Vegetative State,” Hakirah: The Flatbush
Journal of Jewish Law and Thought 18 (2014), 59–90.
36 See Hair Covering and Jewish Law: Biblical and Objective (Dat Moshe) or Rabbinic and Subjective (Dat
Yehudit)? Published in: Tradition: A Journal of Jewish Thought 42:3 (Fall 2009), 95–179.

Thanks very much for your support of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals. As we are approaching Rabbi Marc Angel’s 80^th birthday IYH (July 25, 2025), our Institute is planning a special publication in commemoration of the occasion.

Rabbi Angel has been writing his weekly “Angel for Shabbat” column for many years. The 80^th birthday volume will be a collection of these thoughts on the Torah portions, holy days and festivals. Preparations on the book are underway with the goal of publishing it by summer 2025.

This is an opportunity to celebrate Rabbi Angel’s many years of service to our community and to strengthen the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals so it can continue its work in the years ahead. The Institute works for an intellectually vibrant, compassionate and inclusive Orthodox Judaism…much in the spirit of the classic Sephardic tradition. Thousands of people have gained wisdom, inspiration and guidance through the Institute’s work.

The 80^th birthday volume will include a Scroll of Honor listing contributors to this project. You may contribute by mailing your check to the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, 2 West 70^th Street, New York, NY 10023; or by making a contribution on our website jewishideas.org and then emailing [email protected] to let us know the donation is for this project. If you wish to contribute securities, please contact us at [email protected]   The due date for inclusion in the Scroll of Honor is September 1, 2024. Thanks for your support.

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Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Pinehas

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

As Moses’s life draws to a close, he asks the Almighty to appoint a successor who will lead the people into the Promised Land. God tells him to place his hand (singular) on Joshua’s head as a means of transferring authority to him in the presence of the people. But the Torah states (Bemidbar 27:23): “He laid his hands (plural) upon him.”

In his book, “An Adventure in Torah,” Rabbi Isaac Sassoon draws our attention to a midrash, quoted by Rashi: “Moses showed generosity; God had said lay one hand but he laid both.” Although it is generally forbidden to add or subtract from God’s commandments, Rabbi Sassoon notes that Moses “had no compunction allowing his generous impulse to broaden the one-hand command into a two-handed gesture” (p. 335).

What exactly is the difference between laying one or both hands on Joshua? In either case, the public understood that leadership was being transferred. Why does the midrash view Moses’s action as reflecting generosity?

The issue revolves around how we understand fulfilling our duties.

A person can meet an obligation in an accurate way but without necessarily feeling any special feeling about it. One does what one is supposed to do and no more is required. On the other hand, a person might fulfill an obligation not merely as a duty but as a meaningful gesture. If Moses had laid one hand on Joshua, that would have been fine. The deed would have been accomplished appropriately. But Moses went beyond duty; he demonstrated generosity of soul. He overflowed with a spirit of love and selflessness. 

People can go through life performing correctly but perfunctorily. They say “good morning” from habit and good manners, not because their heart prods them to reach out in friendship. They do their work honestly, day by day, but without any particular enthusiasm. They “lay one hand” on their labors, not “both hands.” Even in religious life, they perform the mitzvoth precisely but without “generosity of spirit.” They do what they have to do but no more.  They pay their dues, write their charitable checks simply as duties and not as expressions of real emotional commitment.

We show “generosity” when we go beyond what is merely expected of us, when we put heart into our deeds. 

And that is what Moses taught us when he laid both hands on Joshua. He truly wanted Joshua to succeed. He loved and respected his successor. He spontaneously went beyond what God had required of him. 

Our lives are enriched and enlivened when we live with generosity of spirit. This is a blessing…and a challenge.

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Korah

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

Some years ago, I officiated at a wedding in a very upscale venue. Before the ceremony, I asked the wedding planner to check that the microphone was on. After being assured that everything was in good order, the wedding procession began.

It was a large wedding with many hundreds of guests. The bride and groom and their parents stood under the Huppa with me, and family members sat in the first few rows. I chanted the blessings, delivered an address to the bride and groom, and continued the ceremony until the breaking of the glass. Everything went very well.

Almost everything.

It turned out that the microphone wasn’t on after all. Thus, no one other than those under the Huppa and the first row or two of guests heard any of the blessings or my wedding speech. 

I was understandably annoyed. I had done my best to do a nice wedding but very few even heard my words. 

But then I had a flash of insight! This was a parable of a rabbi’s life!!. We work hard to find the right words, to convey the right message…but only those closest to us even hear us. Most don’t hear, don’t listen, and don’t really care. The “microphone” isn’t on, the words don’t reach them no matter how hard we try.

But then I realized that the problem doesn’t only face rabbis; it faces everyone who has a positive message to convey. It confronts all who speak for righteousness against evil; for truth against falsehood; for Israel against its enemies.  Those nearby hear the message but so many beyond our immediate audience don’t hear what we are saying.

It can be frustrating. It can cause one to lose heart. 

In pondering this dilemma, we can find room for optimism in this week’s Torah portion. Parashat Korah actually can be a depressing read: rebellion against Moses and Aaron; discontent among the masses of Israelites; deaths and plagues. Moses must have felt as though he was speaking without a “microphone.” Most of the people did not seem to hear his message and did not internalize his teachings. 

But remarkably, the Torah notes that the sons of Korah did not perish along with their father and his fellow rebels. Rabbinic tradition has it that the sons repented; they actually listened to Moses’ words and realized the truth of his message.

The Talmud teaches that the words of those who have fear of Heaven will ultimately be heard. Kohelet concludes: “In the end, when all is heard, fear the Lord…” This is interpreted to mean that even though one’s words are not “heard” now, they will be heard in the end…if not by this generation, then by future generations. Righteous words do not die. They take effect even if we don’t see results immediately.  Although Korah wickedly defied the words of Moses, Korah’s sons listened to Moses.

So this is the message: good words ultimately prevail even if so many people don’t hear them right now. Truth overcomes falsehood. Love overcomes hatred. Righteousness defeats evil.  We may not see immediate results, but we can hope that our words will eventually take root.

Sometimes (often!) we speak but the microphone isn’t on. Most people don’t hear our words. But we trust that ultimately the words will be transmitted into the back rows, little by little, until they take root in the hearts, minds and souls of the people.

Sof davar hakol nishma…In the end, the true message of love, peace and faith will be heard.

Angel for Shabbat: Matot/Masei

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

Many years ago, my beloved teacher Rabbi Meyer Simcha Feldblum gave me advice based on a rabbinic teaching. That advice continues to be relevant.

The Talmud cites the opinion of Rabbi Nathan, who taught: when the priest ground the incense in the Temple, the one superintending would say: “grind it very fine, very fine grind it,” because the voice is good for preparing the spices. The question is: what does a voice have to do with grinding spices? The answer: when the priest is grinding the spices, he may not feel that he is making any progress. It seems like rote work that does not improve the spices. A voice of encouragement reminds the priest: you are making progress, your work is not in vain. Keep grinding, you will see positive results from your labors.

The lesson goes beyond the priest grinding spices. It relates to all of us. We work hard to advance our lives and our ideas and ideals; but it often can feel frustrating. No matter how hard we labor, it often seems that we are not making real progress. We can come to feel that our efforts are futile and unproductive. But then someone comes along and says: hazak uvarukh, you are doing something important, you have impacted positively on us. The voice is good! The words of encouragement re-energize us; we go back to our “grinding” work with a new feeling of purpose. Our work isn’t in vain after all.

Words of encouragement have a profound impact. When positive words are accompanied by supportive and loving actions, then we have ingredients for happiness and progress. Critics and fault-finders are readily available. But genuine friends and supporters are the ones who validate and enhance life.

Just as we need to hear voices of encouragement for our own strivings, we also need to be the voices of encouragement to those who are doing good and important work. Just as a nasty comment can undermine someone’s feeling of self-worth, so a positive comment can provide the encouragement a person needs to move ahead in a positive way.

This week's Torah reading brings us to the end of the book of Bemidbar. It is customary in many congregations for congregants to call out at the conclusion of the Parasha: Hazak ve-nit-hazak,  Be strong, and let us strengthen ourselves. As we’ve reached this milestone, may we merit to continue onward in our studies and in our lives. This communal custom is a way to demonstrate solidarity with others, to encourage all of us to be strong and determined to move forward.

Unfortunately, our world has no shortage of people—Jews as well as non-Jews—who cast aspersions on the Jewish People, on the Jewish Homeland, on Jewish ideas and ideals. To the nay-sayers, we reply proudly and confidently: hazak ve-nit-hazak, we are strong and we will strengthen each other. We will keep working faithfully and steadily for the values that we cherish. We will not be discouraged. We will be strong…and we will strengthen others. 

.

Bernice Angel Schotten: In Memoriam

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

As we mark the end of the "sheloshim" mourning period for my sister Bernice, here are some words in her memory.

“Messy,” “chaos,” “broken,” and “dysfunctional.” According to a July 2023 survey by the Pew Institute, nearly 80 percent of Americans express a negative sentiment when asked to describe politics in the United States. The top 15 cited words include those previously listed as well as more depressing descriptions such as the top two—“divisive” and “corrupt”—along with “disgrace” and the vivid expression “dumpster fire.” For those unfamiliar with this phrase, suffice it to say many can at the very least agree on something: this situation is not good. 

For people across the political, racial, ethnic, and religious spectrums, regardless of where they live, it is hard not to see the brokenness of so much of society. The same Pew study also found that the most politically engaged people report feeling the highest levels of exhaustion and anger. The more people are involved, the more draining and upsetting the experience. Is anyone surprised? What are the options? Agree with the overwhelming majority that there are massive problems but disengage to avoid unpleasant feelings?

This essay does not aim to expand on the many troubles in society or to identify their varied causes. This essay endeavors to encourage people to take responsibility in small ways in local communities. Maybe it is possible to share the burden of some of those aforementioned adverse emotions and in the process make things close to home a little brighter. 

Looking at the modern world through the lens of Tanakh is not an attempt to redefine the holy texts or distill their divine meaning. Rather Tanakh can help provide eternal wisdom and guidance to confront today’s colossal challenges. I see variations of my own struggles and challenges throughout Tanakh and find the narratives intensely helpful for the lessons and especially the knowledge that God has seen us through so much so many times.

The story of Jonah offers tremendous insight and inspiration when thinking about how to address, albeit reluctantly, societal problems. The task is unfathomable. We know this. On the best days it promises to be frustrating and exhausting. Literally no one wants to take this on. Who doesn’t want to flee to Tarshish instead of face the mob in Nineveh? Yet, Jonah teaches us avoidance is worse. Problems follow us.

God calls to Jonah to go to Nineveh, a city whose tremendous greatness is referenced four times in the short book. Nineveh became the capital of Assyria and was home to 120,000 people as well as an untold number of animals. It held hundreds of years of history and cultural riches. It would later include the Royal Library of Ashurbanipal which contained among its vast collection of 30,000 tablets such treasures as the Epic of Gilgamesh, one of the oldest fairy tales in the world. 

Despite its greatness as a city, Nineveh was a wicked society. God had planned to bring destruction there, but first summoned Jonah to proclaim judgement upon it. Jonah famously makes a run for it. Not only does Jonah not want to do the job God called him to do, he was initially willing to risk more than his own safety to avoid taking responsibility. 

The story gets better with each retelling. Jonah boards a ship. God casts a powerful storm on the sea. The God-fearing sailors finally agree to toss Jonah overboard after trying in vain to row to shore. The whole while Jonah knows he was the cause of the storm. A monstrous fish the likes of which none of us can possibly imagine takes Jonah to an experience worse than death. At the depths of the ocean, Jonah calls out to God in a prayer whose beautiful and inspired echoes we can hear in the book of Psalms. God instructs the fish to release Jonah on dry land. God commands Jonah a second time. Jonah went at once and proclaimed what God had said, “Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!” 

That’s it. Jonah had to deliver one simple but powerful message. The message traveled through the people and found its way to the king, inspiring belief, repentance, commitment to God, and an abandonment of evil ways and injustice. The people of Nineveh genuinely atoned, and God renounced the punishment that had been planned. 

            However, Jonah was not pleased. After completing his task of informing Nineveh of its impending doom, which led to the salvation of the great city, he was despondent. Rashi suggested Jonah knew Nineveh would repent and be saved and therefore might lead to Jonah being called a liar. This certainly could have been part of the explanation for Jonah’s gloom. Is it possible this is also an illustration of the findings Pew would publish some 3,000 years later? The more engaged individuals report the greatest levels of exhaustion and anger. Who was more engaged than Jonah? 

The only source of comfort and joy Jonah finds under the shade of a vine miraculously grown overnight. God then appoints a worm to destroy the beloved plant and the shade Jonah had quickly grown to love. God rebukes Jonah for mourning the loss of the plant, stating he did not grow the plant himself and therefore has no share in the sorrow. God further asks if Jonah thinks God should not take pity on a great city like Nineveh. 

For anyone who has ever grown even the smallest plant, the experience can be a source of great joy. Especially true if the plant grows successfully. For anyone who has lost special plants to deer, garden rodents, or other pests, this loss can be downright painful. I remember too well the cabbages that disappeared seemingly overnight thanks to insidious cabbage worms and the many promising seedlings eviscerated by a wily groundhog. However, my family worked hard to plant and care for these lost crops. Our pain is justified!

What about Jonah? No offense to a glorious shade in the hot sun, but what about the great city God just saved? What about the responsibility Jonah attempted to run from and the reality that all he had to do was show up and say one thing that led to a great miracle? What about the glory to God? Then the short book is over, and we hear no more from Jonah.

Over and over, the Torah lays it out for us. God, family, community, nation, world. Take as much responsibility for the relationships and institutions closest to you and work toward your goals. What is the responsibility the Torah wants us to take? Which step do we take first? From Jonah, it is possible we learn the first step we don’t take. We should not step away. We cannot avoid the problem. We have to do the work to show up, and perhaps we have to speak, but we might not have to say as much as we fear. When our work is done, we might feel exhausted, angry, and despondent. So, who wants to sign up and get involved?

What is happening in my small world that I am overlaying the narrative of Jonah? I live with my husband and our children in Teaneck, NJ. Teaneck has about 41,000 residents. Not quite Nineveh, but a great town in its own right. Due to countless circumstances, especially the pace and demands of life, many decent and upstanding citizens have simply not gotten involved in local matters. Less involvement begets less involvement. We paid our copious taxes faithfully but had little knowledge and even less oversight of where this money went. 

In Teaneck, as it is in many towns, there are ample opportunities for individuals to step forward and get involved civically. It is sometimes as easy as signing onto a Zoom to watch a local town or board of education meeting to see what our tax dollars are funding. My husband Hayyim and I are grateful to have had opportunities to engage civically over the past few years. We hope to contribute to a high quality of life for all our neighbors and aspire to sanctify God with our actions. Our experiences have been steady streams of learning about numerous local issues, showing up to various meetings, and meeting all kinds of people. We also started sharing our experiences with friends and neighbors, encouraging others to get informed. 

This was before the atrocities of October 7 and the ensuing aftermath. October 7 shone a blinding light on many problems in our town and as a result, many concerned citizens have taken it upon themselves to engage, despite the very real exhaustion identified by Jonah and Pew. Particularly noteworthy is the recent election of a slate of three phenomenal, qualified men to the Teaneck Board of Education thanks to a massive turnout of Jewish voters organized by the newly formed Bergen County Jewish Action Committee. Since then, BCJAC volunteers have worked tirelessly to advocate for thoughtful Jewish civic engagement.

Dr. Jordan Peterson says, “Every responsibility you cede to others can be taken up by tyrants and used against you.” While it might seem unlikely to escalate rapidly, it certainly can. The good news is things can turn around quickly if good people pay attention, stand up, show up, and say what needs to be said. Like it states in Pirkei Avot 2:21: "It is not incumbent upon you to complete the work, but neither are you at liberty to desist from it." 

Sephardim, Sephardism, and Jewish Peoplehood

(This article was originally written for Re-forming Judaism: Moments of Disruption in JewishThought, edited by Stanley Davids and Leah Hochman, New York, CCAR Press, 2023, and is reprinted by permission of the Central Conference of American Rabbis. The article was reprinted in Marc D. Angel, Sephardim, Sephardism and Jewish Peoplehood, published by the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, 2022).

            My grandfather, Marco Romey, used to tell us of his experiences as a young Sephardic bachelor newly arrived from Turkey to Seattle. He and the few other young Sephardim had arrived during the first decade of the 20^th century. They went to an existing Ashkenazic synagogue, assuming they would find welcome among fellow Jews; but instead of welcome, they were greeted with suspicion. Were they really Jews? They didn’t have “Jewish” names; they didn’t speak or understand Yiddish; they never heard of gefilte fish! Even when the Sephardim showed their prayer shawls and recited Hebrew prayers, the Ashkenazim were not convinced.

            It took a generation or two for Ashkenazim and Sephardim to begin to re-connect after centuries of separation during the long diasporic exile. Until the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries the Ashkenazic world of Europe had little interaction with living Sephardim. And the Sephardic/pan-Sephardic world, concentrated for the most part in Muslim lands, lived in its own cultural bubble. The two communities developed along different historic lines; although sharing the same religion and peoplehood, they were, to a large extent, strangers to each other.

Sephardim: Preliminary Definitions

            My grandparents were members of the Sephardic communities of Turkey and the Island of Rhodes. Those communities harked back to the Jews of medieval Spain (Sepharad in Hebrew), many of whom found haven in the Ottoman Empire following the expulsion of Jews from the Iberian Peninsula in the late fifteenth century. Their language was Judeo-Spanish. Their religious practices and customs followed the Sephardic traditions as codified by Rabbi Joseph Karo in his Shulhan Arukh and other great Sephardic halachic authorities. They prayed according to the classic Sephardic rite, including the kabbalistic texts that were incorporated over the centuries.

            While most of the Sephardim lived in the lands of the Ottoman Empire, a smaller group settled in Western Europe and the Americas. These “Western Sephardim” were Jews or descendants of Jews who had been forcibly converted to Catholicism in Spain and Portugal, but who eventually were able to return to Judaism. They established communities in such places as Amsterdam, Paris, Bordeaux, Bayonne, London, Hamburg, and, beginning in the seventeenth century, in the Americas. The Western Sephardim were quick to adapt to the lands of their dispersion, and developed their own distinctive patterns of Jewish life.

            Although the term “Sephardic” literally refers to Jews of medieval Spanish background, it has more generally come to include those communities that followed the patterns of Sephardim, e.g. halakhic practice, liturgical rituals, and religious customs. Thus, Jews of the Middle East and North Africa—even those not “Sephardic” genetically—have become part of the Sephardic world culturally. The late Dr. Henry Toledano referred to these communities as “pan-Sephardic.” This article will be considering disruptions in the Sephardic/pan-Sephardic world as of the mid-nineteenth century and will be using the term “Sephardic” to refer to the entire pan-Sephardic diaspora.

Disruption One: Confronting Modernity and Westernization

            The Western Sephardic experience was unique among the Sephardic communities. Western Sephardim have been described as the first “modern” Jews, in that they generally flourished in relatively free societies. They valued general as well as Jewish religious education. They spoke the languages of the lands in which they lived. They advanced economically and professionally. Their synagogues were marked by a high sense of aesthetics and decorum. 

            The Western Sephardic communities were governed by rabbis and lay people who strove to maintain classic religious traditions. But as members became increasingly receptive to the freedoms of Western culture, individuals strayed from halakhic observance. The “establishment” had to deal with growing numbers of Jews who were lax in their observance, and others who left Judaism altogether. Notorious examples of defectors included Benedict Spinoza of seventeenth century Amsterdam and Benjamin Disraeli of nineteenth century London.

            Western Sephardic leadership worked diligently to adapt religious traditionalism with the challenges of modernity. In seventeenth century Amsterdam, Rabbi Menasseh ben Israel published books in Spanish and Portuguese in order to provide religious guidance to newly returning conversos. Dr. Isaac Cardoso of eighteenth century Verona wrote powerful tracts defending Judaism from Christian attacks and misrepresentations. Grace Aguilar of nineteenth century London wrote important works stressing the spiritual qualities of Judaism, and refuting pervasive anti-Jewish stereotypes fostered by Christian society. Rabbi Eliyahu Benamozegh of nineteenth century Livorno wrote extensively on Jewish ethics, the universal messages of Judaism, and on spiritual foundations of Judaism. In twentieth century America, the Western Sephardic religious leadership included such figures as Rabbis Henry Pereira Mendes and David de Sola Pool of New York, and Sabato Morais of Philadelphia.

            Yet, for a variety of reasons the Western Sephardic communities have diminished in numbers and influence. Over the centuries, many Western Sephardim became acculturated in their adopted societies. While the traditionalists succeeded in maintaining their communities for centuries, a gradual erosion in membership and commitment set in. The Sephardim, along with their fellow European Jews, suffered catastrophic losses during the Holocaust, and have been unable to regain their former vitality.

The Western Sephardic congregations in South America and the Caribbean declined due to assimilation, migration out of the region, and other factors. In North America, the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogues of New York and Philadelphia continue to adhere to the Western Sephardic rite in prayer, but very few members are actually of Western Sephardic birth. The synagogue in Newport is basically an Ashkenazic congregation, and the synagogues in Charleston and Savannah have joined the Reform Movement. Overall, until the mid-nineteenth century, the Western Sephardic congregations were the mainstream of American Jewry, but they were eclipsed by Ashkenazic influences beginning in 1840 with the dramatic increase of immigration of Ashkenazic Jews. Thus, the Western Sephardim today form a miniscule percentage of Sephardic Jewry, and in spite of their many historic achievements, the disruptions of modernity and Westernization have reduced this group dramatically.

Sephardim in Muslim Lands

            The Sephardic/pan-Sephardic communities of the Muslim world are not monolithic and each community has a history of its own. Until the mid-nineteenth century, most of these Jews lived in self-contained communities governed by traditional Jewish law. They were a tolerated minority sometimes enjoying relative freedom and prosperity, and sometimes suffering discrimination and poverty. 

            The forces of Westernization and modernization began to emerge in the mid-nineteenth century. The Ottoman Empire made a series of reforms, known as Tanzimat, between 1839 and 1876. These reforms aimed at adopting European style government and stimulating the economy. Jews in the Ottoman Empire gained new freedoms, and the educated and affluent classes were drawn to the progressive policies. Although the masses of Jews lived within the traditional framework, cracks in the old system began to develop. 

During the course of the nineteenth century, the Ottoman Empire was in the throes of decline, ceding much territory in the process. Greek independence brought significant changes for the Sephardim of Greece. 

            In the early twentieth century, with the rise of Kemal Ataturk, Turkey experienced a strong surge of nationalism. As the century progressed, the Jews of Turkey—along with other minorities—were drawn into the Turkification process, moving away from former traditional patterns that had characterized their communities for centuries.

            In the 1860s, the Alliance Israelite Universelle[1] began a major educational endeavor that aimed to bring modern, French-style schools to communities throughout the Middle East and North Africa. Between 1862 and 1914, Alliance schools could be found in Morocco, Tunisia, Libya, Egypt, Syria, Turkey, Iraq and Iran. By 1900, Alliance Israelite Universelle was operating one hundred schools with a combined student population of 26,000. In 1912 the Alliance had seventy-one schools for boys and forty-four for girls, with schools in such places as Baghdad, Jerusalem, Tangiers, Istanbul, Beirut, Cairo, Damascus, Salonika, and Rhodes. 

            The impact of these schools was significant. While the existing traditional schools were almost exclusively open to boys, the Alliance provided education to thousands of girls. While existing traditional schools focused heavily on teaching religious texts, the Alliance schools offered an expansive general education. Parents who wanted their children to advance socially and economically were attracted to the opportunities that the Alliance schools offered.

            The Alliance schools were met with mixed responses. Some strongly opposed them as a threat to traditional religious life. The emphasis on French language, literature and culture was seen as undermining Hebrew and religious Jewish studies. But for others, these schools offered a path for educational and economic progress. Graduates of the Alliance schools played increasing roles in transforming and modernizing their communities. 

            Some Alliance students went on to pursue advanced studies in Paris and elsewhere. Many had their eyes opened to the possibility of emigration where new opportunities beckoned. For the female students, the Alliance provided a framework for life beyond the role of wife, mother, and homemaker. Students were often taught by highly educated female teachers, who themselves served as role models. Subtly, and not so subtly, the patterns of traditional life were undergoing change.

            The success of the Alliance schools led the existing traditional schools to upgrade their own educational program. In order to attract students, the communal schools began to offer classes in languages and general studies; they also improved their methods of teaching Hebrew and religious studies.

            While the forces for Westernization and modernization were seeping into the Jewish communities of Muslim lands, larger external factors also came into play. Many of the lands in which these Jews lived were coming under the control and influence of European colonial powers. Egypt was under British control from 1882 until 1956. Sudan was a British colony from 1899 to 1956. Britain also was the Colonial power for Jordan, Palestine and gulf nations. French colonies included Tunisia (1881-1956), Algeria (1830-1963), Morocco (1912-1956), Syria (1918-1946), and Lebanon (1918-1943). Italy controlled Libya (1911-1951) and the Island of Rhodes (1911-1944). 

            Many of the Jews living in these lands identified with the European powers. They worked in their consulates; learned their languages; adopted their style of dress etc. To the often-downtrodden Jews, the European colonizers seemed to offer a higher culture with more opportunities for advancement. But as Jews “Europeanized,” they also tended to move further away from traditional religious observance. The rabbinic establishment which had governed the Jewish communities for centuries was gradually losing the adherence of modernizing Jews.

                From the early twentieth century, migration of Sephardim from their native lands grew significantly. The spirit of change had taken hold. Many were drawn to the land of Israel. Many others were attracted to the United States. Some found their ways to Western Europe, the south of Africa, and cities of Latin America. The migration pattern was not only a result of the confrontation with modernity, but was also stimulated by the desire to escape the dire conditions in their homelands—poverty, natural disasters, and wars.

Reactions to the Disruptions of Modernity

            Rabbinic leadership in the Sephardic/pan-Sephardic communities reflected different attitudes. The traditionalists—steeped in a kabbalistic/midrashic Judaism—felt deeply threatened by the Westernizing/modernizing influences. They sought to maintain the pre-modern ways of their communities. They were intellectually and emotionally unequipped to provide enlightened guidance to the growing numbers of Jews who were becoming alienated from the status quo and who were attracted to the freedoms and opportunities of modernity.

            Albert Memmi, one of the great intellectual figures of twentieth century France, grew up in the Jewish ghetto in Tunis. After attending a French high school, he went on to Paris for advanced studies. He eventually sought to identify with the Tunisian national movement, but was rejected because he was a Jew. In his book, The Liberation of the Jew, he described his malaise:  “When we graduated from the lycee in Tunis many of us decided to cut ourselves off from the past, the ghetto and our native land, to breathe fresh air and set off on the most beautiful of adventures. I no longer wanted to be that invalid called a Jew, mostly because I wanted to be a man; and because I wanted to join with all men to reconquer the humanity which was denied me.”[2] Memmi, who died in 2020 at the age of 99, seemed never to have been able to make peace with his Jewishness.

            Elias Canetti (1905-1976) was a Bulgarian-born Sephardic Jew of the Judeo-Spanish tradition. Yet his upbringing was far from traditional and his mother went so far as to feed him ham as a way of ridding him of past claims of Judaism. Through his various writings and teachings, he had a significant impact on general intellectual life, and was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1981, largely in recognition of his major work Crowds and Power.

            Rene Cassin (1887-1976) was born into the Sephardic community in Bayonne, France, and grew up in Nice. He became a political activist and was co-author of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights issued by the United Nations. He was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1968. He identified strongly with the work of the Alliance Israelite Universelle and served as its President from 1943 to 1976. Yet his personal life was well removed from traditional religious belief and observance.

            Memmi, Canetti, and Cassin represent a Sephardic intellectual class that contributed greatly to general society, but who removed themselves from the traditional life of Sephardic Judaism. With the rise of modernity, acculturated Sephardim advanced in many fields and in many lands; but in the process, many drifted away from traditional Jewish living.

            The Sephardic rabbinic establishment could not hold back the forces of modernity and Westernization. But there were important religious leaders who responded creatively and intelligently to the new challenges, and who succeeded in maintaining tradition-based communities.[3]  The rabbis of Morocco maintained close ties and held rabbinic conferences in which they dealt with the issues facing their communities. Rabbi Benzion Uziel (1880‒1953) was the Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel from 1939 until his death in 1953. His extensive writings, including impressive volumes of responsa (Mishp’tei Uziel), had considerable influence throughout the Sephardic world and beyond.

            Rabbi Uziel’s religious worldview, characteristic of much of the Sephardic rabbinic community, was reflected in a letter he wrote to the leadership of the Alliance Israelite Universelle.[4] While recognizing the importance of students learning both religious subjects and general studies, he stressed the need to master Hebrew as well as the language of the land in which they lived and at least one European language. The goal of Jewish education should be clear: to raise children faithful to their people and to their Torah, people who would be useful to their families, their people, and society. Rabbi Uziel insisted that general subjects be taught by religious teachers. Otherwise, a spirit of secularism would enter the children's hearts, leading them away from the very principles for which Jewish schools stood. If modern-day Jews thought that their children could achieve success only by receiving an exclusively secular education, they were in fact sacrificing their children's spiritual lives. There was no necessity to do so, since one could attain worldly success while remaining deeply steeped in Torah tradition. 

Traditional Communal Framework

            Religious leaders throughout the Sephardic Diaspora felt that the Jewish people could best be served by remaining faithful to its own distinctive way of life. To them, Reform was a surrender to the whims of European modernity, and it could only lead to a breakdown in Jewish religious life.

            Whereas the issues of emancipation and enlightenment led to the formation of religious movements within Ashkenazic Jewry, Sephardic Jewry did not fragment itself into Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, or other movements. Ashkenazic Jewry was torn by feuding among the ideological movements. It established separate communities, institutions, even cemeteries. Sephardic Jewry was spared this internecine denominational struggle.

            Certainly, not all Sephardic Jews adhered to the details of traditional halakhah. Laxity in observance was growing. A lessening of reverence for rabbinic authority was apparent in many communities. Yet, the religious intellectuals, as well as the masses, were desirous of maintaining a traditional framework for their communities. The Sephardim found a modus vivendi characterized by respect for tradition and tolerance for those whose observance of halakhah fell short. Whereas some individuals might not be personally observant, the synagogue and community structure were to operate according to halakhah.

Disruption Two: Confronting the Ashkenazim

            The Sephardic/pan-Sephardic communities were learning to cope with the challenges of modernity and Westernization. They were dealing with the influences of the Alliance schools; the impact of the Colonial European powers; the changes in their educational system; the new opportunities for girls and women; the growing laxity in religious observance; and the alienation of some of the best and brightest intellectuals.

            But the Jewish communities of the Muslim world were to undergo massive disruptions over which they had little or no control. Large-scale migration from these communities was evident from the early twentieth century. Thousands of young people were seeking new opportunities in the United States. Many others were attracted to the idealism of returning to the Jewish homeland. With the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948, vast numbers of Jews from North Africa and the Middle East migrated there—often driven from their homes by anti-Israel Muslim governments. Indeed, Jews of the Sephardic/pan-Sephardic world came to be the majority of Jews in Israel. In 2021, there are very few Jews still living in the former communities in North Africa and the Middle East.

            As Sephardim came into contact with the Ashkenazic-dominated communities in the United States, Israel and elsewhere, they now had to face a new set of disruptions. Among their problems was dealing with negative stereotypes prevalent in the Ashkenazic community. 

            When Sephardim were arriving in the United States in the early decades of the twentieth century, they came to be labeled as Oriental Jews. Indeed, they themselves assumed this designation and some of their early organizations were the Federation of Oriental Jews, Oriental Hebrew Association, Oriental Israelite Fraternity and others. Moise Gadol, editor of the Ladino newspaper, La America, established the Oriental Bureau of HIAS in 1911.[5] 

            Why would the term “Oriental” be applied to Jews from Turkey, the Balkans, Greece and Syria? Apparently, it was to distinguish this group of Jews from the more cultured “Western” (also referred to as Occidental) Jews. After all, Western civilization was deemed to be the most advanced. The “Orientals” were eastern, backward, uncultured by Western standards. So Ashkenazim (and Western Sephardim, too) could separate themselves from the lower-status newcomers by applying a term that then had negative connotations.

            A similar situation arose in Israel. Jews from Muslim lands were termed edot hamizrach, “eastern tribes.” It is as though normative Jews are simply Jews, i.e. Ashkenazim; but Sephardim/pan-Sephardim are broken into eastern compartments—interesting (and sometimes troublesome) Jewish exotica. The late Dr. Daniel Elazar noted the prejudicial use of the term. He pointed out that the Jews of North Africa should hardly be referred to as “easterners” when all of Morocco is farther west than London, and most of North Africa is farther west than Poland. The appellation is obviously not related to geography, but to “the mobilization of loaded terms to advance a convenient Ashkenazic myth in a situation where to be Western is often synonymous with being modern. And since virtually everyone wants to be modern, this myth gives the Ashkenazim a significant psychological advantage over the Sephardim.”[6] 

            I remember as a student at Yeshiva College in the early 1960s that an emissary from Israel addressed us about the need for us to make aliyah. He spoke with dread about the possibility of Israel being overtaken by the “Mizrachim” (eastern) immigrants from Arab lands. He urged Western aliyah in order to maintain Israel as a modern democracy. He verbalized a common fear/prejudice: the Sephardim/pan-Sephardim were not “us”; they were foreigners with low eastern culture. They could not be trusted to become Westernized, certainly not right away.

            These anti-Sephardic notions were held in spite of the fact that many of the Sephardim spoke Spanish, French, Italian and other European languages; that many had received "western” education in the schools of the Alliance Israelite Universelle and in the general schools run by the European Colonial powers in their lands; that many, even of the less educated and less affluent classes, had a rich religious and cultural heritage that had sustained their communities for centuries.  Were the poorer and less educated Sephardim in worse conditions than the Ashkenazim of the shtetls of Eastern Europe?

            The pervasive prejudice against the “Oriental” Jews, the “edot hamizrach,” was not always overt and conscious. It was not necessarily meant to be malicious. But, in fact, it served to undermine the status of Sephardic/pan-Sephardic Jews. The Jewish schools almost totally ignored the existence of Sephardim, their history, culture, traditions. At best, they would introduce a Sephardic song or describe a Sephardic food. Generally, Sephardic tradition was either ignored, misrepresented, or confined to the areas of folklore/music/food.

            Sephardic rabbis in Israel were relegated to lower positions with lower pay than their Ashkenazic peers. Rabbi Haim David Halevy, late Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv, was active in an association of Sephardic rabbis between 1953 and 1959, known as Agudat haRabbanim haSephardiyim b’Yisrael. The group fought for proper recognition by the Ashkenazic rabbinic establishment. In those days, Sephardic rabbis were not allowed to sign simple documents attesting that a person was married or single. While Ashkenazic rabbis were appointed as chief rabbis of cities and received commensurate compensation, Sephardic rabbis, for the most part, were only appointed as rabbis of communities (rabbanei ha’eidah) and received lower salaries. Once the basic objectives of the Sephardic rabbinic group were achieved (by 1959), the group disbanded.

            The frustrations of the Middle Eastern/North African immigrants were many. They were often settled in remote towns and villages. Many lived in ma’abarot, tent cities, until real housing could be found for them. Their children were not expected to attend academically advanced schools or universities. Their economic situation was problematic, since many positions in government and business were granted by proteksia, favoritism by those in power to people of their own backgrounds.

            While the Sephardim did indeed make considerable progress in adapting to life in Israel, the underlying social and economic problems could not be ignored. In 1971, a group of Israeli-born Jews of North African and Middle Eastern backgrounds created the Black Panthers party. Its goal was to promote social justice for their communities and to combat their perception of widespread discrimination against them. They brought their concerns to public attention through demonstrations, media events, and political action. 

            Early in the 1970s, Soviet Jews began to arrive in Israel in large numbers. The Israeli government worked energetically to absorb these new immigrants who needed housing, jobs, social services, education for their children, etc. The North African and Middle Eastern Jews could not help but note the difference between how poorly they were treated in comparison with the Soviet immigrants.  In spite of general progress, frustration and discontent persisted.

            Sensing an anti-Sephardic attitude among the Ashkenazic rabbinate, especially in Hareidi circles, Rabbi Ovadia Yosef spearheaded the establishment of the Shas political party in 1984. The goal was to assert Sephardic rights throughout Israel, and especially in the religious realm. Shas became a political power with the election of its party members to the Israeli Knesset. Shas expanded its network of schools and yeshivot, and won the support of many Sephardic/Middle Eastern voters—even those who were not themselves Hareidi in outlook or observance.

            In the United States, Canada, Europe—where ever they settled in the diaspora-- North African and Middle Eastern Jews faced the usual challenges of immigrants; but they also faced problems in their relations with the existing Ashkenazic establishment. Their Jewishness was questioned; their “oriental” or “eastern” backgrounds were depreciated; their traditions were ignored or relegated to the domain of folklore. But within several generations, most of these Jews progressed professionally, economically and socially. As Sephardim and Ashkenazim grew more accustomed to each other—and married each other—the old alienations and stereotypes diminished.

            The situation in Israel has also improved over the generations, especially given the advancement of Sephardim in all areas of Israeli life. Marriages between Sephardim and Ashkenazim have become much more common, and the merger of cultures has become more prevalent especially in the non-Hareidi segment of the population. Yet, Jews of North African and Middle Eastern backgrounds still feel pangs of discrimination and negative stereotyping.

            Sephardic immigrants, whether in Israel or the diaspora, had to deal with serious disruptions as a result of moving into new lands. Their former communal structures and religious patterns were dislocated and not fully or easily replicated in their new homes. The Jewish establishment operated on the assumption that normative Jews and Judaism were Ashkenazic, that Sephardim needed to “Ashkenazify” in order to become modern and acceptable. It was as though Sephardic history came to an end hundreds of years ago, and that nothing of real significance occurred among them for the past few centuries.

            Whether in Israel or the diaspora, Sephardim had to deal with a sort of identity crisis. They no longer had the calm confidence of living in societies that accepted and valued them and their traditions. If their children attended Jewish schools, they were taught normative Ashkenazic Judaism. Their own rabbis—especially those of the new generations—were becoming “Ashkenazified.” They adopted Ashkenazic practices and even dressed in the black hats and frock coats of the Ashkenazic rabbinic establishment.

            In responding to the challenges, some Jews of North African and Middle Eastern background literally changed their names so as not to be identifiable as Sephardim. Others tried to blend into the Ashkenazic majority in whatever ways they could. Sephardic yeshiva students and rabbis began to identify with the Hareidi Ashkenazic rabbinic leadership. Rabbi Ovadia Yosef was a strong voice on behalf of maintaining Sephardic halakhic teachings; yet, much of the Shas leadership dress and speak pretty much like Ashkenazic Hareidi rabbis.

            Another trend has also emerged in which Sephardim fully accept their backgrounds and embrace an almost “tribal” devotion to the particular customs of their past communities. These Jews take pride in being loyal to the rites and practices of the Jews of Morocco, Syria, Turkey, Iraq, Yemen etc. Instead of backing away from these traditions, they proclaim them proudly and energetically.

            Even the term “mizrachim” has been turned on its head by some of the more militantly Sephardic group. Instead of being a source of derision, being “eastern” has become a positive value in modern times. Eastern Jews can claim an indigenous connection to the land of Israel, even more than Jews of European background. With the growing intellectual trend toward multi-culturalism and diversity, the “mizrachim” are feeling a new sense of importance in the Jewish world, and especially in Israel. Being “Western” is not necessarily viewed as an asset.

Disruption Three: Confronting the Future

            At present, the Sephardic/Ashkenazic rift is still evident, especially in Israel. The Jerusalem Post (August 15, 2021) reported that Miri Regev, a member of the Israeli Parliament for the Likud party, is seeking to become the party leader and to move on to become Prime Minister. Regev was born in the southern development town of Kiryat Gat to immigrants from Morocco, Felix and Marcelle Siboni. She declared that “the time has come to have a Sephardi Prime Minister and that the Likud rank and file must vote this time for someone who represents their class, their ethnicity and their agenda.” Regev, as well as the leadership of the Shas party, continue to stoke the ethnic pride of the Sephardim and position themselves as alternatives to the Ashkenazic establishment. 

            “Ethnic” politics is obviously still a factor in Israel. This is not only evident among Jews of North African and Middle Eastern descent, but also among others including Russian Jews and Anglo-Jews. In the short term—at least for another generation—ethnic divisions and divisiveness will flourish.

But will these ethnic divisions continue indefinitely?  What will the terms Sephardic and Ashkenazic mean one hundred years from now? How many Jews will be “pure-blooded” Sephardim or Ashkenazim?

            The Ashkenazic world, although still tending to emphasize Sephardic folk qualities, is also coming to appreciate Sephardic intellectual traditions, rabbinic teachings, and religious worldview. Scholars are increasingly researching and publishing articles and books, exploring the Sephardic experience in the lands of North Africa and the Middle East.

            Change is inevitable. Although we are not prophets, we can envision a Jewish world a century from now that has moved beyond ethnicity. Our great-great grandchildren will descend from Jews of many diasporic backgrounds. They will have a mixture of Sephardic/Ashkenazic genes (and other genetic components drawn from converts to Judaism, and from Jews who do not neatly fit into Sephardic/pan-Sephardic or Ashkenazic compartments). Aside from genetics, they will also be drawing on a wide range of intellectual and cultural traditions. Hopefully, they will draw on the best of all our traditions and live a happy, wholesome Jewish life free from ethnic strife.

            I suspect that 100 years from now there will still be groups of tightly knit Hareidim and Hasidim. There may also be groups of ethno-centered Jews who tenaciously cling to particular traditions. But most Jews, whether in Israel or the diaspora, will be sharing in a more general Jewish culture that combines elements from many traditions.

            The Sephardic/pan-Sephardic Jews of today need to identify and promote positive elements of their history and culture that are worthy to be transmitted to future generations. The day will surely come when all Jews—of whatever background—will come to view each other as “us”—as one people with a shared history and shared destiny. Instead of ethnic rivalries, prejudices and stereotypes, we will ultimately emerge as a “homogenized” Jewish people, proudly and happily composed of many diverse elements.

            (If I may dare to add, I think that not only will ethnic divisions become increasingly irrelevant, but the division of Jews into religious “streams” will also decline. A century from now, I don’t think it will be important for Jews to identify as Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, Renewal or any other such sub-division. Rather, Jews will make their own free and independent decisions as to what to believe and observe, where and how to pray etc. We will still have a wide range of opinions and plenty of controversy—but it will be in the realm of personal choice rather than institutional rivalries.)

            Thus, the third disruption of the Sephardic/pan-Sephardic world is actually a disruption for all Jewry. It is a disruption—or rather a transformation—brought about by the coming together of Jews of all backgrounds, by inter-group marriage, by growing understanding and appreciation of the history and cultures of each of our diverse communities. 

Our goal as a Jewish People should be to draw on all the strengths of all our communities and to work toward a Jewish Peoplehood that is inclusive, diverse, strong and healthy.

For Further Reading:

Angel, Marc D., Foundations of Sephardic Spirituality: The Inner Life of Jews of the Ottoman Empire, Jewish Lights, Woodstock, 2006.

______________La America: The Sephardic Experience in the United States, Jewish Publication Society, Philadelphia, 1982.

______________Loving Truth and Peace: The Grand Religious Worldview of Rabbi Benzion Uziel, Jason Aronson, Northvale, 1999.

_____________Voices in Exile: A Study in Sephardic Intellectual History, Ktav Publishers, Hoboken, 1991.

Chouraqui, Andre, Between East and West, Jewish Publication Society, Philadelphia, 1968.

Elazar, Daniel, The Other Jews: The Sephardim Today, Basic Books, New York, 1989.

Kaspi, Andre, ed., Histoire de l’Alliance Israelite Universelle: De 1860 a Nos Jours, Armand Colin, Paris, 2010.

Laskier, Michael, North African Jewry in the Twentieth Century, New York University Press, New York, 1997.

Stillman, Norman, The Jews of Arab Lands in Modern Times, Jewish Publication Society, Philadelphia, 2003.

Zohar, Zvi, Rabbinic Creativity in the Modern Middle East, Bloomsbury Press, London, 2013.

Many students from Modern Orthodox homes learn from Hareidi teachers at some point in their educational journey, an influence that plays a role in the “move to the right.” There are frequently not enough Modern Orthodox educators available, especially in schools outside of the American Northeast, such as those in Memphis and Chicago. Secondly, parents often lack the ideological awareness required to identify subtler Hareidi positions held by staff members. How many parents understand hashkafic differences among yeshivot and seminaries?[i]

            Beyond the above factors, some do understand the choice and make a pragmatic calculation. In the challenging times of our postmodern condition, a more Hareidi institution may be a safer bet for keeping children in the Orthodox orbit. Though the Hareidi dropout rate is larger than often acknowledged, we will assume here that Modern Orthodoxy has an inferior batting average. Understandably, parents and educators think that the Hareidi voice will keep their children more religiously observant. 

            Children who turn Hareidi will still share our love of Shabbat and Talmud Torah; they will appreciate the solemnity of Neilah and the joy of Purim. They can support one of the many Hareidi hessed organizations, such as those that provide meals at hospitals. If one lives in America, issues of avoiding army service and not receiving a secular high school education cease to be problems.[ii] Why not adopt this strategy?

            The ensuing pages will explain potential perils in this plan; indeed, no risk-free options exist in this world. We will explore various Hareidi positions that many Modern Orthodox Jews will find extremely problematic. I admit at the outset that some of this essay's examples highlight more extreme ideas in the Hareidi world. To counter the critique that I am cherry picking, I offer the following responses.

            I am not actually utilizing the most extreme voices such as Neturei Karta, Satmar hassidut, R. Menashe Klein, and the like. The voices I do cite are usually either significant rabbinic authorities (such as R. Wasserman, Hazon Ish, the Steipler, R. Dessler) or teachers at mainstream institutions (such as Chaim Berlin, Toras Moshe). The ideas surveyed have a place in conventional Hareidi discourse. Even if competing visions exist in the Hareidi orbit, someone joining the Hareidi world may not adopt more moderate versions. Furthermore, one cannot find other Hareidi leaders explicitly criticizing the positions outlined here. Thus, the risk of our children becoming attached to a harsher Hareidi view remains quite real. 

            A second critique of this essay could claim that the surveyed opinions have a basis in ma’amarei Hazal (talmudic and midrashic statements) and can be justified as is. I think that this will be true for some examples and not for others. In any case, my argument is not that none of this has rabbinic backing but that these are not positions congenial to Modern Orthodox Jews. For example, one can find traditional sources stating that, after a thousand years, the edict against polygamy has run out but we would think poorly of someone who relied upon that position. 

            Many of the sources involve disciples or family members citing prominent rabbis. I assert at the outset that I do not assume the accuracy of all of these stories. If the stories are true, my argument becomes stronger since it turns out that famous rabbis affirmed these ideas. If the stories are false, they still reflect a mode of discourse in the Hareidi world that goes unchallenged. Thus, the problem remains intact, albeit in less-intense form. We shall now explore Hareidi attitudes toward women, gentiles, Zionism, divine providence, faith, as well as other categories. This exploration reveals dramatic difference between communities. 

Women

Modern Orthodox Jews resist the notion that men bear a higher ontological worth than women, but this idea appears in Hareidi literature. R. Dovid Kastel, a Rosh Kollel in Yerushalayim, writes that “a big portion of a woman’s purpose is to be a helpmate; therefore, men are more fundamental than women.”[iii] In his portrayal of the ideal Jewish family structure, R. Avigdor Miller, mashgiah in Yeshivas Chaim Berlin for 20 years, writes, “There cannot be two kings.…The wife is submissive…. He is the captain, but she is the First Mate whose counsel is respected.”[iv] When Rav Michel Shurkin, longtime rebbe at Toras Moshe, was disappointed about the birth of a daughter, R. Moshe Feinstein consoled him by saying, “What difference does it make to you if someone else raises the iluy (talmudic prodigy) who marries your daughter?"[v] Note that the consolation relates not to the worth of the daughter but to the cognitive capabilities of the son-in-law. 

Modern Orthodox Jews would not denigrate the intellectual capabilities of women in the way that some Hareidi literature does. R. Yisrael Eliyahu Weintraub, a one-time mashgiah in Yeshivas Chaim Berlin who moved to Israel and became a close confidant of Rav Eliezer Menachem Shach, writes that “men need to develop their knowledge and wisdom” but women were not given this role; rather, they have the ability “to be fully dedicated to someone higher than them.”[vi] He counsels husbands not to explain deep matters to their wives but to go with simplicity. A little fear of judgment never hurt anyone.”[vii] R. Miller concurs. He advises women to look good for their husbands and not talk too much: “Talking and talking, you’re advertising that you have nothing in your head at all.”[viii]

These themes find powerful expression in additional stories told by R. Shurkin. He relates a story from his youth in which his older sister asked their father to learn some gemara together. His father’s face turned white and then the father gave his daughter a 10-dollar bill and told her to go buy a new dress. Note that he did not distract the sister with Tanakh or with works of Jewish thought but with clothing. Men study the depths of Torah whereas women like pretty dresses. R. Shurkin subsequently asked why the sister could not learn and his father told the following story. The father met a European Rav with a single daughter to whom he taught Torah. However, this learned daughter was unable to find a shiddukh since she considered every fellow too weak in learning for her. According to the elder R. Shurkin, this episode shows the perils of educating women.[ix] What kind of world makes their peace with the idea that bright and educated women cannot forge a healthy relationship with a husband?            

More extreme versions of the need for tzeniut are rampant in the Hareidi world with the inability to show women’s pictures a prominent contemporary example. A book recording practices of the Steipler provides numerous examples. In his later years, he refused to read notes handwritten by women and would insist that the husbands write out the requests.[x] He would be careful not to walk between little girls in the street.[xi] He cites the Hazon Ish as saying that, in the times of the Sanhedrin, they would have killed women who wear pants.[xii] I think we can safely say that these sayings and practices convey an exaggerated sense of women as sexually charged individuals. 

Gentiles

R. Kastel writes that “gentiles only have seven mitzvot because they are truly nothing but only as a drop in the bucket and [exist] to help Israel.”[xiii] R. Miller affirms that the function of the nations is “to supply Israel with opportunities to gain Perfection.”[xiv] Many mainstream Hareidi works assume that gentiles are incapable of great acts. R. Itamar Schwartz’s popular Bilvavi Mishkan Evneh states that non-Jews never perform acts of selfless love.[xv] Similarly, R. Moshe Dan Kestenbaum’s impressive Olam Ha-Middot affirms that gentile acts of compassion are truly self-serving.[xvi] The same attitude spills over into approaches to secular studies. If gentiles bear such little worth, they would obviously not produce great works of wisdom. Rav Shurkin relates that a discussion once broke out in his shul questioning if culture has any value. His father overheard the conversation, lifted his eyes, and said “Culture, nivul peh” and the debate ended.[xvii] R. Shurkin cites a Maimonidean ruling that the gentiles hate us and pursue us and, his father wondered, given such animosity, how even secular Jews could involve themselves in gentile culture.[xviii] The irony of basing such opposition on Rambam, who wrote that Aristotle almost achieved the level of prophecy, is lost on Rav Shurkin. I think this approach to gentiles and their wisdom is quite foreign to Modern Orthodox Jewry.

Zionism and Secularism 

Both R. Elchanan Wasserman[xix] and the Steipler associate Zionist leaders with Amalek.[xx] According to R. Shurkin, a yeshiva fellow considering army service consulted with R. Moshe Feinstein who cited a tradition in the name of R. Chayim Soloveitchik that the Zionists are suspect of murder and one should not enlist.[xxi] The Klozenberger Rebbe sketched a contrast between the rest of Jewish history and the modern era. For some 1,900 years of exile, great rabbis led Am Yisrael and the Jewish people did not face total destruction. Since secularists took over the leadership, we lost 6 million Jews in the Holocaust, Russian and American Jewry face major assimilation, and the Jews in Israel are living as if in the Warsaw ghetto albeit with some weapons.[xxii] His account glosses over the Crusades, the Inquisition, the Chmielnicki massacres and the extensive suffering of Jews at many points in the long exile. Furthermore, granting that the Holocaust is a tragedy of greater proportions (something the Hareidi world tends to downplay), it is unfair to blame it on secular Jewish leadership without a clear causal connection. 

R. Weintraub is quite extreme in this regard. He forcefully rejected an initiative to pair yeshiva students studying with Israeli soldiers in which the yeshiva fellows would learn and pray on behalf of their brethren in combat. His objections include the fact that earlier gedolim (the foremost rabbinic authorities of a generation) did not create such projects, that this initiative comes from a false feeling of inferiority on the part of the yeshiva students, and that he does not want any form of partnership or relationship with the secularists.[xxiii] He cites Rav Velvel Soloveitchik’s reaction to the 1956 Sinai Campaign. 

Those who were saved were due to the merit of the bnei Torah because the merit of Torah causes wondrous salvation. Those who were killed, may the merciful one protect us, were because they (the Zionists) were involved in this and if they had not been involved, no one would have been killed. It emerges that only those killed are on the government’s account but they have no connection to the great salvation that occurred for that goes to the account of those toiling in Torah.[xxiv]                              

Let us survey the past 75 years of Jewish history. A Hareidi community decimated by the Holocaust was able to rebuild Itself and the world of yeshivot largely by reestablishing yeshivot and communities in the land of Israel due to the Israeli government allowing them to manage their own school system with a minimum of interference, offering health care and other services, and granting them an exemption from army service while other Israelis patrolled the Lebanese, Syrian, Egyptian, and Jordanian borders and fought in multiple wars. Is this citation of Rav Velvel Soloveitchik the Hareidi reaction? Actually, we saved all the lives, and you did nothing! The lack of hakarat haTov (thankfulness) and the desecration of God’s name (observant Jews repaying generosity with animosity) are frightening. No Modern Orthodox Jew would advance such positions. 

This attitude generates some revisionist history. Let us hear again from R. Miller.

The Zionists (also “religious Zionists”) delight in accusing the East-European Torah-leaders as “responsible” for the destruction of the Six Million, because they were not enthusiastic over the Zionist settlement of Eretz Yisrael. But it is common knowledge that the Torah-scholars founded the Jewish community in the Holy Land, and that the Zionists refused immigration for the orthodox.[xxv]   

We appreciate a declaration about not blaming the Torah leaders but that is no excuse for blaming the Zionists. His “common knowledge” is based on Ben Hecht’s Perfidy about which Deborah Lipstadt has said “he makes claims in there about the Labor Party, about Ben Gurion, not caring about what was going on in Europe, which is, again, historians now show, has simply not stood the test of time."[xxvi]                                                                                                               

Providence

The previous discussion leads us to different conceptions of providence. What is the balance between human activity and divine governance in how the world runs? R. Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler, mashgiach at Ponevezh yeshiva, states that human endeavor actually produces nothing since God truly directs the world. The natural order is an illusion which the pious can overcome and thereby function in a more miraculous fashion. One classic formulation of this mode of thought says that humans must engage in hishtadlut (proper human effort), but they should realize that the effort does not truly bring about the desired result.[xxvii] I suggest that most Modern Orthodox Jews function with a worldview rooted in Rambam[xxviii] and Abravanel,[xxix] which recognizes the reality of the natural order and the ability of humanity to impact within that order.

R. Hayim Shmulevitz, Rosh Yeshiva at the Mir Yeshiva in Yerushlayim, cites two potential hashkafic positions. One says that the faithful can flourish with no efforts in the natural realm at all. The other disagrees and demands effort but everyone agrees that the effort has no direct impact. Hazal said “Greater is the one who enjoys the work of his hands more than the God fearer” (Berakhot 8a). I would have thought that this statement endorses human efforts. R. Shmulevitz explains that working individuals clearly experience how efforts play no role in achieving success and that realization is a major advantage.[xxx] He does not identify a possibility found in rishonim affirming the natural order and the human ability to manipulate the resources within it.[xxxi]       

Let us see where a R. Dessler or R. Shmulevitz style starting point can lead. R. Nosson Sherman cites R. Shimon Schwab as saying, “I am convinced that what protects our brothers and sisters in Israel is the merit of the kollel families that endure poverty and hunger for the sake of Torah.”[xxxii] Even ignoring the over-romanticizing of the kollel lifestyle, note how the soldiers receive no mention. The Hazon Ish writes that prayer accomplishes more than hishtadlut.[xxxiii] According to Rav Shurkin, when Rav Moshe Feinstein heard of a fellow working on a cure for cancer, he responded that “Even if he found the cure for cancer, it would not be worth the bittul Torah (distraction from Torah study).”[xxxiv] We end up in a place where heroic human efforts to better the lives of others lose their worth.  Only such a vantage point could explain the complete lack of gratitude toward the Israel Defense Forces.

Another factor may also play a role in downplaying the helpful efforts of secular Zionists. Earlier. we encountered the idea that gentiles are incapable of authentic benevolence. Secular Jews may not fare better. R. Avigdor Miller asserts that “Atheists, and disbelievers in a Torah from Sinai, are obviously insincere in any declarations of principles of any kind; they can have no more principle than birds or insects.”[xxxv] Such a perspective makes it very difficult to give credit to secularists.      

A more intensive conception of divine providence often leads to a more simplistic application of reward and punishment models. After a terrorist attack on a bus returning from the kotel in the summer of 2002, R. Weintraub explained that the mixture of women and men on the bus violated principles of tzeniut which is why the merit of prayer at the kotel did not save the passengers.[xxxvi] To be fair, he does not claim that the attack was a direct punishment for the lack of tzeniut but it still seems an extreme reaction to coed bussing. 

Matters get much more extreme when we turn to R. Avigdor Miller. R. Miller thinks we can understand the Holocaust due to the unprecedented level of assimilation in Germany. He finds various “measure for measure” items bolstering his theory:

Because the German Jews had spiritually destroyed their synagogues by Reform and by imitation of Churches, the Germans wrecked and burned the synagogues in the “Crystal Night.” German Jews bore gentile names; therefore the Nazis restored their Jewish identity by issuing a decree that every Jew must add the word “Israel” to his name and every Jewess the word “Sarah.”            

Because, for the first time in Jewish history, women had ceased to cover their hair, the Germans shaved them bald in the death camps. Because the virtues of chaste dress and behavior were diminished in imitation of the gentiles, they were marched naked to the gas chambers, and Jewish women were subjected to every barbarous indecency before being killed.     

Because they had so revered the physicians, especially the German specialists, they were subjected to the malicious experiments and torments which the German physicians imposed upon them.[xxxvii]

I believe no comment is necessary.   

Extreme Application of Values

R. Miller was likely led astray by his intense desire to justify God. When certain positive values become pushed to an extreme, other important values get unjustifiably shunted aside. The same phenomenon may explain how one could suggest that finding a cure for cancer does not excuse interrupting Torah study. The Hareidi world prizes Talmud Torah in a very impressive fashion; however, this may also prove to be an Achilles’ heel when taken to an extreme. R. Shurkin reports that when R. Elchanan Wasserman was learning in the Radin kollel, he received a telegram that his wife had given birth to a son. When he asked the Hafetz Hayim if he should return home, the latter answered, “Are you a mohel?”[xxxviii] I fully realize that travel was harder and infrequent in that era but perhaps rejoicing with one’s family in the birth of a child justifies missing some yeshiva time. 

A biography of R. Yosef Shalom Elyashiv cites the childhood recollections of his daughter Bat Sheva, wife of R. Haim Kanievsky:

When we were children, he did not know us at all. He never spoke to us from good to bad. Only once a week, Shabbat afternoon, when he could not learn from a sefer because it was dark and he did not use the electricity, he would go out for a walk, and the children took turns accompanying their father. Do not think that he spoke to us; he consistently thought about learning, but it was an honor for the child to walk with father.[xxxix] 

Inconceivable that such a story would appear in a biography of R. Lichtenstein or R. Amital. I suggest that becoming a gadol actually involves the crucible of child rearing. 

According to R. Itamar Schwartz, a well-known story relates that R. Hayim Sanzer looked happy on the way back from his son's funeral. When questioned about this surprising mood, he answered with a parable. "A man waking in the street is struck in the back. He recoils backward to see who did it, and discovers that it was his good friend who clapped him on the back as a sign of affection."[xl] Here too, justifying God creates an idealization of a degree of indifference to the loss of one's child.   

An equally frightening tale appears in Shimusha Shel Torah, a work of stories from Rav Shach collected by R. Asher Bergman. R. Yosel Slutzker, later Rav of Slutzk, was orphaned from his father and was one of the best students in the Volozhin yeshiva. A letter arrived from his mother asking him to come home because she was struggling to maintain the family business. R. Hayim Volozhin hid the letter from his student. A second letter complained that she received no response to her first letter and R. Hayim hid that one as well. The third letter said that a fire had left them destitute. The fourth letter, from a sister, related that the mother was dying. The fifth letter reported that the mother had passed away and begged the brother to return home and care for younger siblings orphaned from both parents. R. Hayim hid all the letters and only showed them to his student years later. He explained that all these distractions were the Satan trying to prevent the development of a Gadol haDor (the greatest rabbinic authority of a generation).[xli] In contrast, Modern Orthodox Jews would say that caring for your mother and siblings in times of need is a crucial part of cultivating greatness.         

Faith

It is commonly assumed in Hareidi literature that the existence of God is obvious to any fair-minded person. Therefore, skeptics and heretics function dishonestly by allowing desires to influence their judgment. Hedonistic impulses distort their analysis. Rav Wasserman, [xlii] R. Dessler,[xliii] and others adopt this position. This interpretation of kofrim (heretics) allows religious individuals to both assume they are clearly correct while accusing their opponents of bad faith. The only drawback is that the position is false. Some atheists may have ulterior motives but certainly not all of them. I personally have gone through stages when it seemed difficult to affirm Rambam’s 13 principles. Many students, desperately wanting to believe, have approached me with their theological questions. Some ultimately found their place within Orthodoxy while others did not. To accuse them all of simply hungering for cheeseburgers would be cruel and unjustified.   

Intellectual Understanding

Modern Orthodox Jews prize the use of the intellect even when confronting issues of Jewish theology. Some Hareidi voices prefer a simple faith which eschews analysis. R. Schwartz’s Bilvavi Mishkan Evneh says that we should only be asking “what” and never “why.” 

The attempt to understand God’s works—the very thought of this—shows the lowliness of a created being, who thinks he has the ability to understand. One cannot understand anything!! Not why we need to wash hands and not why we need to learn Torah. We only know what we have to do, and we do it because we were commanded.[xliv]

R. Schwartz does not address the fact that the majority of rishonim endorsed the endeavor of offering rationales for mitzvot. Interestingly, some rabbis apply this anti-intellectual orientation even to human behavior. R. Shurkin relates how R. Mendel Zaks contrasted two biographies of the Hafetz Hayim in order to convey a preference for the one penned by R. Moshe Meir Yosher. The other volume tries to explain the Hafetz Hayim’s actions, whereas R. Yosher simply records them.[xlv] Apparently, even human guidance should be taken on authority alone. I suggest that one could not possibly apply modeled behavior to novel situations unless one knows the rationale for the behavior. 

The Role of Gedolim

The Hareidi world puts much more emphasis on its rabbinic leadership than Modern Orthodoxy does. This includes granting them authority in political matters (Daas Torah), telling stories about their otherworldly qualities, and making them a consistent and central focus of religious discourse. Several prominent Hareidi voices explain that yeshivot exist to produce gedolei Torah, and the curriculum should reflect that even if it does not serve the needs of the bulk of students. R. Dessler famously preferred the Lithuanian model of Jewish education over the German one because it was more likely to generate great sages even if the German method more successfully produced committed ba'al haBatim. He justifies such a strategy despite his understanding that it will cause some to "separate from the Torah path" and he identifies with Rambam's elitism: "Let a thousand fools die and one sage enjoy."[xlvi] Modern Orthodox Jews will be wary of attributing that much stature to gedolim.

Hashkafic Diversity

R. Dessler writes that Hazal only argue in halakhic matters but not with regard to aggadic material since both positions convey aspects of the truth. Even when the gemara uses the word "u-pligi (and they disagree)" in an aggadic context, R. Dessler explains that it refers to portraying different angles on the matter rather than to actual dispute.[xlvii] Now, I do consider finding the truth in every side a valuable endeavor, but that does not mean that no disputes exist. For example, R. Dessler contends that Rambam and Ramban truly agree about Judaism's attitude toward medicine. Ramban states that, ideally the sick would turn to God and not to doctors but once people chose the natural order, they need to function within it and go to the doctor. According to R. Dessler, Rambam agrees and the medieval giant's robust endorsement of medicine is only for those who abandon the ideal path.[xlviii] The problem with his theory is that Rambam gives no hint of such a position, and it flies in the face of Rambam's consistent endorsement of the natural order.      

R. Shimshon Pincus' popular Shearim beTefila shares the same tendency. The Vilna Gaon on Tehillim says that a wicked man with full bitahon in God will receive divine benevolence. This idea seems to clash with both Hovot Halevavot and Hazon Ish. The former says that bitahon only works for someone free of sin, whereas the latter says bitahon never meant that things will work out the way I want. Rather than just taking note of an important debate, R. Pincus asserts that they all agree; it just depends on the level of trust. The highest level of bitahon guarantees good results even for the wicked.[xlix]

 The approach is not only incorrect; it is also harmful. We will not be able to adequately analyze the strengths and weaknesses of two positions when I start out by flattening them into one identical stance. Secondly, it leaves all Jews bereft of a hashkafic range of opinions with which to select from and identify with. We need to present our students with different views of providence so that they can connect with the position that coheres with their experiences. Hareidi minimizing of hashkafic variance hurts the community. 

A Contemporary Example

Perhaps some readers will think that all the sources I cite remain in the abstract realm of theory and do not seriously impact on current Hareidi decision-making. Investigation of Hareidi responses to the war currently going on between Israel and Hamas reveals otherwise. A small number of Hareidi men did enlist in the IDF, and a larger number of Hareidim participated in providing food and other services for those called up to the armed forces. However, public statements by the leadership strike a very different note.   

R. Dov Landau, Rosh Yeshiva of Slobodka in Bnei Brak and currently considered one of the gedolim, said that R. Shai Graucher, a man tirelessly dedicated to hessed for IDF soldiers, is a mazzik gamur (fully destructive person) for distracting time and resources away from Talmud Torah. R. Meir Kessler, Rav of Kiryat Sefer, wrote against taking time from Talmud Torah to engage in hessed initiatives for the war. R. Yaakov Hillel advised not to siphon funds away from supporting yeshiva learning toward the war effort. R. Yitzchak Meir Morgenstern allowed volunteering drives to help the soldiers but only on condition that the observant Jews not identify and feel connected to the erev rav of secular Jewry. R. Simcha Bunim Schreiber, a Rosh Yeshiva of Nesiv Hatorah appointed by Rav Shteinman said in a siha (brief discourse) that we need not feel greater gratitude to IDF soldiers than to garbage men. Furthermore, he contended that almost no one serves in Tzahal (Israel Defense Forces) willingly. The last claim is empirically false; witness the many reservists who showed up for duty without receiving a tzav shemoneh (draft order). Lest one think that such sentiments only find expression in the Israeli Hareidi rabbinate, R. Aharon Feldman, Rosh Yeshiva of Ner Yisrael, explained why he is not in favor of special prayers for soldiers at the front. "I am afraid that if you start to be mispallel (pray) for soldiers, this will glorify tzahal and will create problems later when they start passing laws to draft yeshiva bochurim into the army."   

How did these rabbis arrive at a position with such minimal sympathy for the major sacrifices made and personal risks taken by Israeli soldiers? The categories outlined in this essay provide the explanation. If one thinks that the Torah study of kollel fellows provides greater protection than those physically protecting our borders, then it becomes easier to downplay gratitude to hayyalim (Israeli soldiers). If a community adopts one value as supreme and excludes other important values, then no breaks in Talmud Torah are allowed to help those in the field. Making sure that Torah study continues becomes so important that we cannot even recite individualized prayers for soldiers in danger lest the community come to glorify soldiers more than yeshiva fellows. Finally, other Hareidi rabbanim who might disagree with these positions are not able to publicly criticize them so that it will not seem that real hashkafic debates exist or to avoid saying that a gadol made a serious error in judgment. R. Schreiber did receive some pushback, but there was no public argument made against the comments of R. Landau or R. Feldman.    

Conclusion

We could discuss other issues dividing between Hareidim and Modern Orthodoxy such as Da’as Torah, the relationship between peshat and derash, Hazal’s knowledge of science, the value of human ethical intuitions, and potential misbehavior of biblical heroes, but this will suffice for now. My list even leaves out certain additional communal flaws such as protecting abusers from the government and dishonest portrayals of Jewish history. Thus, I did not paint the blackest possible picture. 

I myself benefitted from learning in Hareidi yeshivot yet would not send my children to such institutions and think that I have adequately explained why. Those considering such a move should mull over the many concerns raised in this essay. Perhaps one can minimize the dangers by identifying with more temperate Hareidi voices such as R. Aaron Lopiansky. Additionally, Hareidim who live in the United States can count on the reality that moderate voices have greater influence in America than in Israel. On the other hand, the three most extreme voices surveyed in this essay are R. Avigdor Miller, R. Elya Weintraub, and R. Michel Shurkin. The first spent his entire rabbinic career in America and the other two studied and taught in the United States before moving to Israel. No risk-free options exist in life, and the Hareidi lifestyle involves difficulties and dangers.

            Some opponents of this essay will undoubtedly state that I have no right to write critically about gedolim. In a world of hashkafic debate, there is no substitute for evaluating different positions and seeing which ones make the most sense. This is what I have tried to do above, and it seems to me that most Modern Orthodox Jews would identify with my preferences. In fact, limiting ideological discussion to citing rabbinical authorities rather than analyzing issues is another significant weakness of the Hareidi community.

            What are the potential practical ramifications of this essay? If one lives in an “out of town community,” there may not be non-Hareidi educators available. However, one may live in a city with various hashkafic educational options, and these factors could influence decision-making. These ideas could impact on choices of yeshivot and seminaries. Perhaps parents should investigate whether or not staff members send their boys to the army and their girls to sherut leumi (National Service) or the army. If not, these teachers are falling short in their ethical commitment to Am Yisrael, and their students are much more likely to be exposed to institutional staffs dominated by Hareidi ideology.       

Although my main target audience is the Modern Orthodox readership, I would like to also address any Hareidi readers. No one likes criticism, and I imagine your instinctive reaction will be defensive. Please write a strong defense, but also consider the possibility of points worth admitting to. For example, perhaps clearly state that you utterly reject R. Miller's explanation for the Holocaust and that the portrayal of R. Haim Volozhin's hiding emotional wrought family letters from his student does not cohere with your worldview. 

I have mixed feelings about publishing this essay. At the Mesivta of Long Beach, at Toras Moshe, and especially at Camp Munk, I encountered many fellows of outstanding character from a Hareidi background who would not identify with the worldview of R. Shurkin or R. Miller. I have no desire to insult them or hurt their feelings. At the same time, these ideas exist in the Hareidi world, and it seems worthy to confront them. Furthermore, even my old friends have been influenced by these currents. It may manifest in discourse about women and gentiles, in failing to acknowledge that soldiers protect Medinat Yisrael more than kollel students, or in attributing excessive knowledge or authority to the gedolim.  I think it important to argue for a different style yahadut.   

Modern Orthodoxy has many shortcomings, which I have written about in several other forums, and our community needs to focus the bulk of its energies on self-improvement.[l] We must encourage more of our talented sons and daughters to consider Jewish education as a career and find ways to make that more financially feasible. If we generated communities with more powerful religious commitment, fewer would look elsewhere in search of spiritual authenticity. Even given all of that, this essay suggests that the Hareidi option is not a viable solution.