With a casualty rate of
over 50%, Pickett's
Charge was one of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War. To this
day, many struggle to understand what made General Lee launch such an
unsuccessful offensive. It seems that the plan of attack involved a
“perfect storm” of traditional tactics used against new
technology. The invention of the Minie
ball, a type of rifled bullet, which replaced musket balls, made
it possible to hit a target from 1200 feet, where previously one
might miss in a duel at ten paces. Under a barrage of musket balls, a
charge might succeed, and overwhelm the enemy position. Under a
barrage of the new bullet, a charge was essentially suicidal. Only
General Lee's highest ranking general, James
Longstreet, recognized the futility of the attack, but his
protests were ignored. The results, both that day, and in general,
were tragic for the Confederacy.
Rabbi Avi Shafran,
recently wrote a post entitled “Unsung Heroes” on his blog,
which he cross-posted on Cross
Currents. As is his want (or won't, as the case may be), comments
and replies are not allowed on either post. What follows is an
educational proposal based on what he wrote and implied. Although I
will not be addressing the part of his post where he wrote words that
were, at least, unkind, and, in my estimation, gratuitously
mean-spirited and cruel, please do not take my lack of further
comment to indicate agreement with what he wrote.
I
came across some very compelling literature that called traditional
Jewish beliefs into question, and was disturbed by what I had read,
and so I read more, and did a good amount of serious thinking and
research.
As
to Orthodox Jews themselves, yes, most seem to be fine people, but
there have also always been “characters” – people with strange
fixations or behavior patterns. And then there are Jews proven or
rumored to be… not so nice.
The
thought that the “outside” world might provide a more rarified
and thoughtful community was an enticing one. And so I began to
entertain doubts about Jewish beliefs, my religious identity and my
community.
I
was 14.
To
my relief now, many decades later, there was no Internet then to
intensify my confusion, and no examples of people who had abandoned
Jewish beliefs and observance and written best-sellers about the
fact. I had no opportunity at the time to capitalize on my doubts and
gripes with a memoir that would garner me the media spotlight,
interviews and royalties. Though I had what to tell, like how my
second grade rebbe would rap my fingers hard with a ruler when I
misbehaved. I would have had to have been truthful and admit that he
didn’t do it in anger, and that I felt he loved me dearly
throughout. But I could have racked that up to Stockholm Syndrome.
Lacking
the commercial incentives, though, allowed me to take my time, do
some critical thinking and research, and give Judaism a chance. I
engaged my doubts with information, and was blessed to have parents
who gave me space, who didn’t try to overly control my reading,
dress or activities; and with rabbaim who didn’t consider any
question off-limits.
If Rabbis Shafran is being fully open, he has not had any religious struggles or doubts since he was 14. If so, he is quite fortunate, both in never having been challenged by questions that a more developed intellect might ask, as well as having a rebbe who could give him answers to his questions; answers that were either true, or beyond young Shafran's ability to rebuff. Furthermore, he was able to do a search which only turned up answers, and did not lead to further struggles. By implication, he bemoans the fact that the internet can intensify one's confusion. Although I would suggest that a more thorough search might have turned up books which would lead to more questions, I will concede that the internet makes it far easier to discover things which challenges one's beliefs. The question is, how to deal with this reality. Being a student of history, I would suggest that we follow the Longstreet approach, and accept that new technology calls for a new response and not what once (sort of) worked under other circumstances.
There
was a time where, more or less, we could shield children from the
outside world, and all of its challenges. Educators could skip
certain topics in science, with a reasonable expectation that their
students would be none the wiser. A rebbe could make a comment about
the outside world, and his talmidim would lack the ability to
ascertain whether these claims were true. This is no longer the case
(I would add the word “thankfully” to the beginning of that
sentence). A boy who is curious about what his biology teacher
skipped in yeshiva, can, with a few clicks, discover the truth.
Students who might never have discovered biblical criticism, no
longer have to wait until college to engage this challenging issue.
We,
as Jewish educators, have two choices. We can allow the internet to
be the one to introduce these topics to our students, and hope that,
at best, our students will care enough to ask us questions about
their struggles. Alternatively, we can introduce it to them within
the relative safety of our schools. To be sure, this approach
involves a risk. Dealing with these issues will raise questions for
some students who might bot have thought about them. Although, we
might try and figure out a way to limit these lessons to certain
students, I can't imagine how that might work. Perhaps that is why
our chahchamim said in Maseches Chagiga that these topics should not
be taught in groups. Still, I would suggest that we no longer have
the ability to keep these subjects from our classes.
There
are two further challenges. This new approach would require that
yeshivas have educators who are well educated on these topics, and by
well educated, I do not mean thinking that disproving Wellhausen is
all that is needed. This challenge is not insignificant, but it is
manageable. Rabbeim and morahs need not have PHDs in Biblical Studies
or ANE studies, but they should, at least, have an understanding of a
well educated layman. Much more challenging, and in my estimation
more important, is for us, as educators, to be willing to help our
students (and ourselves) recognize that not all questions have
perfect answers. While there will be young or unsophisticated
students whom we might be able to convince that we have all of the
answers, God forbid, that we should lie to our students about a Torah
that comes from God, whose seal is truth.
If
we have the courage to accept and engage in the new reality, rather
than merely wishing it away, it is my hope and prayer, that God will
help us avoid further tragedies which are brought on by a refusal to
move on from what once worked.
Thanks for this post. A few thoughts, however:
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure how much we can parse Rabbi Shafran's words to infer anything beyond what he wrote, but he only writes that the questions he had initially were answered. He makes no comment whether or not his research dredged up further difficulties and struggles, which they probably did. And while it is easy to read the implied statement that he no longer has struggles, I highly doubt that's the case; I think the idea that he is trying to convey is that he has grown to be "okay" with those doubts that arise - part of being what he terms a "Jew-by-choice" involves the acceptance that there will be questions that we cannot answer, or at the very least cannot answer in a satisfactory way...
I think your comment says a lot about the kind of Jew you are, but not so much about Rabbi Shafran. I don't think I misread the tone and implication of the article. It was disappointing on multiple levels.
DeleteI'm just not sure what his ultimate point was from the piece.
ReplyDeleteAnd while Rabbi Shafran can be prematurely triumphant as is his baseline style, both his and your piece bring up a salient point:
Yes, today the voices of dissent might be more accessible with technology, but a major difference is the quality and tone that we have today viz. the sources that Rabbi Shafran encountered in his day. Of course satire and mockery existed then, but today's measures of vitriol and pathos is astonishing, even within our own camps. That emotion-laden attack is so much more resonant that the yeshivot alone don't seem to suffice...
That was suppose to be yediot, not yeshivot.
ReplyDelete