Anat Hoffman and Religious Coercion

It's somewhat old news.  Anat Hoffman (pictured above in handcuffs) is the Executive Director of the Israel Religious Action Center, the legal and advocacy wing of the Reform movement in Israel.  As many readers are likely aware, Anat Hoffman was arrested back in October just as she was reciting the Shema for her role in organizing a women's Torah reading and prayer service in the women's section of the Western Wall.  Her arrest received much coverage in Israel and particularly throughout the diaspora.  Liberal Jewish theological and political advocacy groups throughout the world were outraged.  Many Americans, born and bred on the notion that there ought to be a wall of separation between church and state, found it difficult to accept that the Western Wall, the site of our ancient Temples, was one of the few places where certain Jews might actually be arrested merely for their style of religious worship. 

Notably, the Orthodox position and reaction has been quite different, and somewhat monolithic.  In Orthodox circles, the discussion has centered around the fact that these practices have never been allowed at the Western Wall before, and that since such practices are an affront toward the traditional gender roles embodied in the classical Rabbinic tradition, they are offensive and must be stopped.  Many worshipers are offended by having to witness new and problematic innovations at their holy site, the thinking goes.  

Moreover, Orthodox Rabbinic control of the Western Wall absolutely must be maintained, in much the same way that all of Jerusalem must always remain unified.  This is what I hear in what has become the Orthodox echo chamber.  This event is only regrettable in that the arrest brought to the public's attention the issue of freedom of worship, and that this very attention threatens to eventually uproot Orthodox control of holy sites and potentially the state Rabbinate as well. 

Writing as an Orthodox Rabbi, I am struck by a fundamental problem.  In general, the Orthodox community to which I belong seems to speak of control in terms of political power.  Winning is an end unto itself, and control of the state Rabbinate and holy sites is regarded as vital, if we are ever to defeat the well-intentioned yet misguided forces of liberal Judaism.  In short, the aim is for us to win and for the others to lose.

In my view, this type of thinking is clearly wrong, both from a human perspective but also from an Orthodox perspective.  We passionately believe that the prophetic writings of the Torah and Tanach, as well as the collective wisdom of our rich and diverse faith as developed and handed down throughout the millenia, represent a moral imperative and a divine mission to live upstanding moral and ethical lives.  In that regard, it is indeed disappointing that so many have rejected Judaism.  It is more disappointing when supposed "representatives" of the faith (Rabbis and other religious leaders) pervert the mission on a daily basis with institutional fraud and subsequent cover up, all while stringently observing only the most superficial trappings of Judaism.  

The core of our divine mission is to model both ethical behavior and loyalty to the one God, as a group.  If many members of the group fail to join the effort, we are all weaker for it.  And so our aim should be to foster ties and reconciliation in a divided Jewish world.  This is all the more true because we (the Orthodox community) have much to learn from others and have failed miserably (on the whole) when it comes to the modeling ethical and spiritual group behavior.  In our society, it makes less than no sense to suggest that others will come to appreciate God or the Torah if we force them to observe our rules and norms, especially when we have so much to clean up in our own house.  People may be persuaded by the beauty of the Torah, but not when it's strictest interpretation and least sensitive iteration is shoved down their throats.  For God's sake, we ought to let up on others (especially those who want to worship, albeit in non-traditional ways), and focus on becoming better individuals ourselves.  Then, it's possible that we'll actually deserve control of the institutions we currently abuse for political purposes of power and self-aggrandizement.  If our control keeps distancing people (and it most certainly does on the whole), why do we care about the control?   

Kosher Quandries

There are so many important issues to write about at the current moment . . . that and I'm admittedly delayed on finishing my comments on Brit Milah.  Nevertheless, I'm writing about something that's been on my mind for a while, and is currently a hot topic of conversation in Israel.

Recently, a new Jewish leadership organization called Beit Hillel was formed, comprised of leading Rabbinic figures (with a focus on synagogue Rabbis ;-)) and female religious leaders and educators.  The group was formed with an emphasis on promoting a more moderate and sensitive version of Orthodox Judaism than that which people (too) often encounter.

What's caused a stir is that they recently put out a teshuva (document containing legal rulings) regarding the permissiblity of dining in homes and establishments which are not Kosher.  The document can be accessed here, and is noteworthy for many reasons:

1) Style
While the observant community, particularly its Rabbis, used to be known for scholarship and scholarly debate regarding important issues, this trend has experienced a significant decline in recent years.  We've grown used to proclamations of law, "kol koreh" documents, conflicting verbal accounts, and simple stories, rather than the scholarship and reasoned argument of generations past.  Argument occurs by tumult and fiat on far too many occasions, without sophisticated or nuanced debate.

Beit Hillel's rulings are organized, well-researched, thorough, and sourced.  They cite opposing arguments, and note why they've chosen to rule the way they have globally, and then on individual issues as well.  This is a surprisingly refreshing trend, and hearkens back to the way things were done not so long ago (save the fact they've posted their thoughts on the organization's website :-)).

Lastly, this helps to push back against a growing problem.  Many legal rulings in the Jewish world today are heavily influenced by ideology and haskafa, one's philosophical-religious outlook on life.  That's all well and good, and it's done on all sides of the equation.  However, there's been a trend whereby those associated with a more stringent version of Judaism assert that the law or custom is such, when the legal ruling of the classical sources was much more lenient.  However, the Rabbis in question merely issue a proclamation, without explaining that the added stringencies are based on a sequence of philosophical suppositions, suppositions which many of us firmly reject.

2) Content
Right at the beginning of the teshuva linked to above, Beit Hillel transparently note the religious ideology that motivates them, and passionately argue for it.  Basically, they state that while keeping Kosher according to Jewish law is an important value, there are other values that are also important.  Therefore, when certain norms in Kashrut which are stricter than the basic law become normative, other values suffer.  In this case, strictures have kept the people of Israel from socializing with each other, increased strife and skepticism of the Rabbinate, and decreased the honor due to God and his Torah.

Therefore, they published a researched guide explaining (according to mainstream Jewish law) how Jews who keep Kosher might legally eat in other settings, in an effort to increase cooperation and interaction between Jews.  These include rulings permitting wrapping food in aluminum foil and warming it in a non-Kosher oven, and eating vegetables which may not have been checked for bugs (based on the fact that there may be reasons why it's permissible - the subject of another overdue post) especially given that a person can always check as they eat.

I would add that the Rabbinic desire to return to a basic observance of law, yet stress communal and national cooperation (also the subject of many positive mitzvot) rather than individual piety is a much needed and long overdue step in the right direction and a return to religious balance.  This actually represents a Rabbinic move to take other ignored yet central Mitzvot into account.  To the extent that any of the rulings cited seem a little edgy, it's only because our halachic discourse has shifted so far towards stricture that normative Jewish law now sounds unreliably lenient.  Three cheers for Beit Hillel!          

Thanksgiving Thoughts . . .

First, I'd like to wish a Happy Thanksgiving to all of my readers (I'm not sure how many there are :-));  this is the perfect opportunity to express my gratitude that you've taken the time to read and respond to my thoughts.  Though I haven't posted as often as I might like and still do hope to find the time to be able to post more, I definitely appreciate the feedback and discussion I've come to expect when I do get around to posting.

As many of you are likely aware, the celebration of Thanksgiving in the Orthodox Jewish community is far from a given.  During the twentieth century, major poskim (decisors of Jewish law) issued different rulings regarding the celebration of Thanksgiving.  Three basic views were promulgated in regard to this matter:

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik permitted and proudly celebrated Thanksgiving himself, according to those close with him.  Members of his class at Yeshiva University heard him talk of going home to Boston for a Thanksgiving meal.  Others, such as Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner categorically forbid any celebration of Thanksgiving, ruling that it was either an idolatrous holiday or, at the very best, something akin to it.  Rabbi Moshe Feinstein took something of an intermediate position, ruling that it was a secular holiday, and therefore not idolatrous.  Nevertheless, he stated that he felt it was irrational and foolish to celebrate the holiday, and that there would be a tangential problem of adding to the commandments by celebrating on a particular day in a particular way each year.  

The intention of my post today is not to discuss the merits of these and other legal arguments about the validity of Thanksgiving in Jewish law, but rather to briefly discuss some of the implicit messages and implications inherent in these views.  

1) By claiming that Thanksgiving is, in essence, silly, we place ourselves "above" the need for a day of gratitude to our Creator.  Some have claimed that Jews are thankful every day, and that no special day of thanks is needed.  True, we should always be thankful.  I don't see why a believing Jew would feel that way any more than anyone else, though.  Further, Judaism is replete with the notion that we ought to set aside specific times of the year to focus on that which we ought to focus on every day of the year.  Passover is a once a year focus on the exodus and the responsibility resulting from that freedom, a topic we are commanded to mention and remember each day of the year.  Tisha B'av is a once a year focus on the destruction and exile that has haunted our people, something we also reflect on each day of the year in our liturgy.  It's self-evident that we humans need to set aside specific times to focus on things we'd like to focus on throughout the year.  These special appointed times serve as a focus and motivation, keeping us on track, affording us the time off to do what we say we ought to be doing, and serve as an important cultural statement of shared values.

As Jews, giving thanks to our brethren, country, and ultimately to God is one of the major tenets our religion stands for.  As an example, the entire system of blessings before and after food is designed to increase our awareness of and gratitude towards God in our everyday enjoyment and survival.  Further, the entire notion of the Sabbath, one of the hallmark features of Jewish life, is predicated on the notion that we should set aside time once a week to thank God for his blessings in our week.  This is clearly the philosophical outlook behind the prohibition of melachot (39 specific forms of labor), and the popular notion that Shabbat is the mekor haberacha, the source of all blessing in our lives.  Refraining from our own creative activity allows us to acknowledge the "behind-the-scenes" God who makes it all happen.  Being a blessed nation (i.e. having a clear relationship to God) is dependent first and foremost on acknowledgment and gratitude.

2)  The Rabbinic decisors who accepted Thanksgiving did so because they considered it primarily a secular holiday.  Though Washington's original proclamation was steeped in the soaring language of thanks to the Divine, this doesn't accurately reflect the reality, they would claim.  Thanksgiving, at its essence, is a holiday consisting of a turkey dinner with family, football, Black Friday, etc.  Those  Rabbis who rejected Thanksgiving emphasized its Christian origin.

Personally, I feel that there is another approach inherently espoused by many, perhaps even a silent majority.  While Thanksgiving certainly has its fill of cultural hallmarks and practices, so do all good secular and religious holidays, meaningful or not.  At its core, though, Thanksgiving is an important day about the very thanks it's named for, and it's a good and positive thing, Jewishly and otherwise.  That the idea of thanking God was commemorated in this way by Christians who happen to worship in a different way to a different deity is immaterial.  After all, Washington and many of the founders were deists as much as they were truly believing Christians.  More importantly, we feel a kindred commonality with many Christians and others of faith.  We believe in a higher Source, and they believe similarly.  This can be said not just of Christianity, but many faith systems.  That our theologies are different, even vastly so, remains important but less so than it once did.  Fundamentally, we relate to and even share the religious sensibility that motivated a day of thanksgiving to God, regardless of particular religious beliefs.

All that we have is ultimately due to the benevolence and blessings of God.  More than the ideas which divide us, this powerful idea motivated Thanksgiving, and is one that many of us (myself included) proudly share.  As a Jew, I am grateful that we live in a country which celebrates this fact, and would urge us to celebrate thanksgiving with this focus in mind, rather than focusing on our differences.  Broadly, we are commanded to remain a people separate and apart in order to preserve our identity as a group that recognizes and promotes God in the world.  When we emphasize our particularity to such an extent that we can't even take part in a celebration of thanksgiving to the Creator, we fail to actualize our divinely ordained mission, and render our unique identity pointless.                   

Circumscribing Circumcision - An Introduction

I know it's been a while . . . the holiday season proved to be busy, but it's time to get back to commenting on  real issues that matter.  For the next several posts, I wanted to do a series on the recent circumcision debate taking place in New York.

As many readers are likely aware, many Jewish groups have filed suit, and are challenging a recent controversial decision by the New York Board of Health (see here).  The decision by the Board of Health, in brief, requires informed parental consent before metzitzah b'peh is allowed at a brit milah, the Jewish ritual circumcision performed on all males.  Metzitzah b'peh is/was a small customary component of the ritual, whereby the mohel (man who performs the circumcision) would suck to draw a small amount of blood during at the conclusion of the ceremony.  The custom is sourced in ancient ideas about bloodletting, with the notion being that this ceremony will help to protect the baby.  Many have preserved the custom while also insuring higher standards of safety by having the mohel used a sterilized pipette instead of sucking directly.

The NY Board of Health issued its ruling in part because of controversy surrounding the death of certain children, and the possibility that potentially deadly diseases such as Herpes may be transmitted to the baby, resulting in illness and even death.

There are several important questions to address:  1)  From a perspective of Jewish law, what is the status of this custom, and need it be kept in light of our modern scientific knowledge and understanding about viruses and the transmission of disease?  2) Should we be tolerant of more conservative approaches towards the preservation of custom?  3)  How big need the risk of illness or death be before we act?  4)  Are the challengers correct in asserting that the First Amendment protects them against government regulation?  5)  What is our general attitude towards laws with a secular purpose which incidentally impinge on religious practice?

As many of you know, I have the benefit of writing from multiple perspective on this issue.  On the one hand, I studied at Yeshiva University, and had the pleasure of studying this topic with the esteemed Rabbi Tendler (an outspoken advocate on this issue).  On the other hand, I am an attorney, and have long taken a particular interest in issues relating to the 1st Amendment, particularly the Free Exercise Clause of the First Amendment.

In the next post, I'll begin by discussing the relevant constitutional clauses, and other relevant Supreme Court Cases.  I hope that this will be a fruitful and educational discussion about the cross-section between religious freedom and governmental regulation.

Special Guest Post

This week, we are honored to have a guest contributor, Michael Hein.  His thoughts carry a crucial and central message at this juncture of history, and the strength of their argument speaks for itself:

 

This week's parsha - Shoftim - gets me into more trouble, er, I mean is one of the most emotionally and philosophically moving of all parshiot. Commentary on it is endless. At its end are the particulars of the Egla Arufa.

Midrashically, it is said that the particulars of the ceremony (taking place exactly on the border of two towns, the breaking of the neck of the calf so that blood spills onto the ground, etc.) represents (one among many interpretations) the idea that in our communities, the level of decency and law-abiding-ness was lax enough to allow a murderer to exist and commit his crime; that the spiritual air of the place(s) was not “clear” enough to fill the lungs of such a person to dissuade him from his heinous act; that the society charged with rearing him, and giving him his middos (or if a traveler – hosting him) failed to inculcate by example an appreciation of and respect for Torah and Mitzvos, for the sanctity of life, or, at it's barest minimum, for following the rule of Law. And for that deficiency, teshuva is in order.

But why the forced declaration of the leadership of the involved towns? Why must expiation be made for the residents, almost all of whom, could not possibly have anything to do with the physical act of the actual murder?

The answer, of course, lies in another phrase - Kol Yisroel Arevim Zeh ba Zeh (Every member of Israel is responsible for each other). It is a weighty philosophic concept - truly an Ol Malchus Shemayim - or, it is just lip service.

Parshas Shoftim assures us that if we truly believe in the ambient morality of the klal (community), of the spiritual purity of the air we breathe, of the accountability each has to the other in society; then the upward delegation of the responsibility for monitoring the lawfulness of society to interested (or advantaged) community members (more specifically the abdication of one's responsibility to such members); the free reign given to men in positions of great power and realm without accountability and oversight; surely condemns all of us to the eventual necessity of having to stand at the border of "two towns", in a ditch, with a bloody knife literally in the hands of those very unexamined leaders, as pennance, bewailing the occurrence of terrible crimes, (billions in theft, money laundering, assault, battery, bribery, extortion, domestic abuse, arson, pederasty, etc.), the crowd seemingly "not understanding where such guilt could possibly come from"; aware of our defilement, pleading for catharsis, yet not being willing to open our eyes to the very source of our contamination staring at us in the mirror.

form over substance

The story is a simple one, and it is widely told and taught as an example of the profundity of Jewish law and ethics (Devarim Rabah, Parshat Eikev, Chapter 3).  The great tanna (mishnaic author), Shimon ben Shetach, purchased a donkey (in one version, his students purchased the donkey for him) from an Arab salesman in order to ease the burden of his physical labor. When the purchase arrived, he was surprised to discover that the donkey had a rather sophisticated sense of style; it was wearing a necklace containing a valuable precious stone suspended from its neck.  Shimon's students, overcome with joy, suggested that God himself had now blessed Shimon with wealth.  Life would get much easier for their teacher than they had ever imagined.

Only one problem - Shimon ben Shetach famously ordered the students to return the donkey, with one short and sweet retort.  "I purchased a donkey, not a precious gem."  As the story concludes, the students return the donkey to the Arab salesman, who declares, "Blessed is the Lord, God of Shimon ben Shetach."

Just a few weeks back, a third-party vendor mistakenly offered tickets to Israel on El Al Airlines for just $300.00.  This, for tickets that normally cost well in excess of $1,000.00.  Hysteria raged as friends contacted friends, Facebook and Twitter abuzz, so that people would have the opportunity to purchase tickets before the obvious mistake was corrected.

Many noble human beings led the way and declined the temptation to succumb to pure self-interest, either by declining to purchase the tickets or by voluntarily returning the tickets when they learned of the error.  Most others have not followed this path.

Now, the airline industry is famously ruthless, and I'm sure we all have our share of horror stories about how this or that particular airline ruthlessly ripped us off, resulting in ill-will and a host of negative feelings.  Trust me, I have my stories as well.  Still, the current case brings to the forefront a certain tension that deserves and demands to be studied:

The very reason we as Jews value the land of Israel so much is our religious/historical connection to the land of our forefathers and because of the divine imperative to live in our land to be a people uniquely righteous and just.  The whole point of having a land is that we're supposed to be a nation that goes above and beyond (no pun intended) to distance ourselves from dishonesty.  Certainly, Shimon ben Shetach understood the importance of yahsrus, acting in a moral and decent manner, especially when it comes to monetary arrangements.  He understood this even when dealing with an Arab merchant, someone who did not belong to his people.  A lot of ink has been spilled about the legal obligations of the purchasers in our case (see here for Rabbi Gil Student's analysis).  In a similar case, when the seller made an error, Shimon ben Shetach's inquiry was much simpler and easy to understand.

If we hope to reflect positively on our benevolent and loving creator, we'd best start not only to distance ourselves from the financial scandals that ruin our God's name, but to act morally and justly in the ambiguous and difficult cases as well.  Going to the Land of Israel by cheating El Al out of their due is a perversion of justice, and compromises the integrity of the very land we pine after.        

Jewish [dis]unity

Achdus.  Jewish Unity.  These days, it's all the rage in the Orthodox Jewish world.  Countless events, publications, and more, are all named with the goal of Jewish unity in mind.  Earlier this year, an Orthodox Union magazine was titled, "Jewish Unity - It Begins With You" and contained a mirror on the front cover.  I cite this merely as an example of the prominence of the movement.  It's become a catchphrase, a buzzword, in the Jewish world.  Since assuming a position as a pulpit Rabbi, people frequently ask me, "[a]re you for Jewish unity?", as if such a complex question and topic can be answered in one word.  What exactly does unity mean, I wonder.  Unity of opinion? Purpose? Dress?  That we can all get along on some level?  Does serious disagreement run counter to Jewish unity?   

My post this morning is not really about Jewish unity, but is tangentially related.  When people praise the ever sought after Jewish unity, the praise often goes as follows:  "There were so many people doing 'x' together; some were wearing knitted kippot, some velvet kippot, black hats, straw hats, streimelach, bare heads, all in the same room at the same time."  Invariably, the mark of unity is that people wearing different styles of clothes, now used to identify people with a specific stream or subculture within the Jewish world, have come together for a particular event or cause.  But why the focus on dress?

More and more, it seems that dress has become the marker of how identify, judge, and relate to others within our community.  Now, it's obviously true that the clothes a person chooses to wear reflect something about their choices and preferences.  Wearing the garb associated with a particular subgroup within the Jewish community no doubt does tell us something.  But increasingly, it seems we no longer allow for slight variance or individuality, but prefer the superficial prejudice of costume as a near absolute.  

When determining the religious preferences of individuals, the focus (for men and women) is almost entirely on dress.  "They look like a frumme yid (serious Jew in Yiddish)."  Rather than focusing primarily and mainly on the character of individuals as markers of quality, the focus is primarily on dress.  People can abuse, steal rob, etc., but as long as they dress in the costume, their status is affirmed.  If someone, for whatever reasons, chooses to forego the costume (think Mattisyahu, who recently shaved the beard and abandoned much of the classic Chassidic dress), they are likely no longer to be trusted.  People who choose not to wear kippot or yarmulkes, as they're popularly known, are not considered serious.  No matter the charity work they do, that they are always there for those in need, or that they pray and study with diligence on a daily basis.  

I myself have witnessed such things on multiple occasions in my short time in the Rabbinate.  Person 'x' will be specifically banned from performing certain functions (for example, a Kosher food supervisor or other role) merely because we "don't trust someone who dresses like that."  There's something toxic out there, and we're so deep in I'm afraid we're totally blinded.

It's now the month of Av, when we mourn the destruction of Jerusalem, the Temples that twice stood there, the idolatry that preceded the Babylonian invasion and communal discord and fracture that preceded the Roman version, and the resulting exiles.  Today, dress has become our idol, borne from superficiality, prejudice, and a desire to feel included and exclude the other.  Praising an event for its unity based on the variety of dress is paradoxical and perplexing.  Time for us all to engage in some serious reflection this year.