Fun, Family, or Faith?- What is Modern Orthodoxy really about?

"He is searching not for a faith in all its singularity and otherness, but for religious culture."

Rav Yosef Soloveichik in the Lonely Man of Faith

Rav Soloveichik once said that rabbis and teachers had managed to give Shabbos over to their congregants and students, but had not succeeded in giving over Erev Shabbos. They had managed to give over the rules of Shabbos, but were unable to convey its spirit and purpose. In thinking of the Modern Orthodoxy of today, I would paraphrase these words and say that we have been succeeded in conveying the religion of Adam I to the next generation, but have failed in giving over the faith of Adam II.

An essay was recently written which suggested that intermarriage is starting to spread to the MO world. While I think the claim of the writer is mistaken, and certainly disagree with the possibility that the intermarriage rate in our community is 10%, I do not disagree that we are increasingly facing the failure of our community to produce a next generation who are meaningfully engaged with Judaism as a religion.

In Lonely Man of Faith, Rav Soloveichik famously speaks of Adam I and Adam II. In discussing the approach of the former towards religion, the Rav speaks of a person who is interested in what religion offers him. He likes the community aspect, and the connection to tradition and customs. He might heartily agree that “the family that prays together, stays together”. Adam II on the other hand sees Judaism not just for what it adds to his life, but also as something which connects him to Ratzon HaShem. Instead of asking what he gets from being religious, he looks at what is asked of him. He is searching for a faith. It is my strong contention that Modern Orthodoxy of today is largely a community of Adam I, and only rarely a community of Adam II.

If Judaism is nothing more than a system which is supposed to produce happiness and meaning, than how can we be surprised when our children decide that what made us happy is not what leads to their happiness? Why shouldn’t they move towards a more egalitarian approach to religion, or even more towards taking from religion only that which works? If we move entirely away from the language of commandedness, to one of choice, why should we be surprised when our children, in fact, choose?

We’ve somehow arrived at a largely bifurcated educational system where we either emphasize text learning or a more fun approach that is more about finding meaning. What both of these approaches lack is the thick religious experience which is more commonly found in the charedi world. We, and by we, I mean our homes, shuls, communities, and schools are not giving over a religious experience which reaches our kids in their kishkes. We’ve got minyan three times a day, daf yomi, kosher sushi, and sleepaway camps, but do we have a relationship with God. We are frum, but are we religious?

If I’m honest, I’m not sure if we as a community really want more than what we have right now, but if we do, it is going to take more than changing school curricula. Even if our schools, and Israel yeshivot and seminaries can light the spark in our children, in which community are our children supposed to land? With all the hand wringing that exists over kids “moving to the right” (a phrase that needs to be unpacked), why would we expect our children who have discovered the deep meaning of Judaism to stay in our community if we are unable, or even worse, uninterested in producing a community that is more connected to God? If our daughter has discovered the joy and meaning of davening, why should she attend a shul where talking during davening is the norm. If our son loves singing slow plaintive zemiros, will he enjoy a Shabbos meal where the talk mainly revolves around politics and pop-culture?

If we are unable to give over Shabbos and Erev Shabbos, our kids will either look for a community that does, or walk away from a neutered version of Shabbos which offers a nice family meal and some time away from technology, but little more. Those benefits can be found outside of our community, and yes, outside of our religion. If our kids are to stay, we need to offer them something deep and real. If we don’t, can’t, or won’t, we can’t complain if they take our decision seriously, and make their life choices accordingly.

Setting God Free- How language can bring us closer to God

There once was a king who appeared to be in mortal danger. A loyal follower stepped in to save him, but convinced it was the only way to save the king, he put him in a tower, where the king essentially became a prisoner. After a while, the king's subjects got so used to the king being in the tower that they gave no thought to restoring him to his palace.

Much later, another loyal follower realized what must be done, and released the king, but it had been so long since anyone had actually been in the king’s presence, that few realized who he was, so they refused to serve the king, thinking that in doing so, they were being loyal to the "real" king.

While I have already written about how halachic language can place a distance between us and God, there are other things which also weaken our relationship with HaShem. In this post, I will try and make the case that philosophical and kabbalistic ideas and language have created a gap in our connection to God, and that while they once served a beneficial purpose, that time has passed.

In the above-mentioned parable, I suggest that there was a time when God “needed to be saved”. It was an era where serious religious ideas were being discussed in philosophical terms in the Christian and Muslim worlds, and for Jews to not do so, was to suggest that our conception of God was not serious and thought-out. Into the gap stepped those like Rav Saadiah Gaon and the Rambam, writing philosophical works which showed that Judaism did not conflict with the ideas of thinkers like Plato and Aristotle. There was, however, a downside to this process. They put God in a castle whose bricks were made up of ideas like “the unmoved mover” and “negative theology”. It is one thing to pray to and serve a God who cares about us and listens to our every word. It is entirely something different to pray to and serve an abstract idea.

Of course, it was not just the rationalists who created the castle. Kabbalah, basing itself on Neo-Platonic thought, spoke of God as the Ein Sof, literally the one who has no limit or end. In using this phrase, it was suggested that, in essence, we could not even speak of God as existing, as that phrase can only describe things. Again, the gap between us and God was described as unbridgeable.

In recent times, two great thinkers, Michael Wyschogrod, and Rav Eliezer Berkovits, critiqued these approaches,. Wyschogrod suggested that we need to go back to the God of the Tanach. For him, even Chazal’s conception of God was not identical to the true God of the Tanach. He wrote:

It is of course necessary to mumble a formula of philosophic correction. No space can contain God, he is above space, etc., etc. But this mumbled formula, while required, must not be overdone. It must not transform the God of Israel into a spatial and meta-temporal Absolute . . . With all the philosophic difficulties duly noted, the God of Israel is a God who enters space and time . . . God dwells not only in the spirit of Israel . . . he also dwells in their bodies.

While philosophical language serves to prevent seeing God as physical, when used beyond the minimal necessary amount, it leads us to lose God as a reality in our experience.

Berkovits, in his God, Man, and History speaks of the Gods of philosophy and kabbalah, as “the gods of the pagans”. With this strong phrase, he too suggests we have lost the Jewish conception of God, only in his telling, that God is found in Tanach, as well as in the words of Chazal.

The Besht, and the early chassidic thinkers, as well as the Ramchal, offered an approach that set the king free. Even as they made use of aspects of kabbalistic thought, they brought it down to earth in a way that spoke to the average person, as much as it could speak to scholars and thinkers. Where God was once hidden “outside of the world”, they helped bring him back. In doing so, they helped create a partial revolution. I say partial, because they only captured some minds. For too many, the intellectual component of these thinker’s approach was not seen, and for too many, it was seen only as a movement for the masses. It is here that I turn to the application of these ideas to the Modern Orthodox world.

As I noted in my recent book review, for the most part, Modern orthodoxy hitched its wagon to the approach of Rav Yosef Ber Soloveichik. Even as he had a side of him that was drawn to the Tanya, his students, he said, “want his mind, and not his heart”. Modern kabbalistic and chassidic thought are seen as somehow out of bounds to much of the MO world. They are seen as simplistic, non-intellectual, and fanciful. Witness the negative response in much of the MO world to the development of neo-chassidus in their midst (I think this point stands, even as neo-chassidus does not always include all of the depth of classical chassidus). As my religious thought has developed, I’ve seen that this conception is very much mistaken. Whether it’s reading an essay by Hillel Zeitlin on applying William James’ thought to Judaism (available here), or seeing how Isaac Breuer uses Kant and Kabbalah to address biblical criticism, I’ve seen that chassidus and kabbalah can be every bit as intellectually stimulating, as any area of classical Western thought.

The language we use to talk about God matters deeply. Even as we recognize that God was locked in the tower of rationalism or kabbalistic terminology for a reason, it is time to let him out. At a time when religion is often on the defensive, it is only a close connection to God that will help us and our children weather the storm. It is time to exchange the gods of the Greeks for the God of Judaism.

"While I have already written about how halachic language can place a distance between us and God, there are other...

Posted by Pesach Sommer on Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Requiem for a Movement- A review of Torah and Western Thought, and thoughts on the demise of a movement

It is not often that I read a book which not only causes me to think deeply about the subject-matter, but also gets me to examine who I am as a Jew, as well as to question my sense of belonging to a community. Torah and Western Thought: Intellectual Portraits of Orthodoxy and Modernity, which was recently published in a joint venture by Maggid Press and Yeshiva University Press, is one such book. As I read this fascinating work, I not only thought about the nine men and one women whose intellectual biographies make up this book, but I also thought about Modern-Orthodoxy as an intellectual movement, and to what degree it still exists. By the time I finished the last essay, I had, with some regret, reached the conclusion that, at least in America, Modern Orthodoxy as an intellectual movement has had its day. Thus, after briefly reviewing this book, I will continue with some thoughts about  a world that once existed, a world which I have found to be very nourishing, but has mostly passed from the scene. I hope to generate thoughtful discussion on this topic, as well as offer some thoughts about the future of Modern-Orthodoxy as a social and intellectual movement.

Torah and Western Thought, which is edited by  Rabbis Meir Soloveichik and Shlomo Zuckier, both of whom also wrote or co-authored essays in the book, as well Dr. Stuart Halpern, contains ten intellectual biographies of major leaders, thinkers, and teachers, who combined serious Torah, with involvement in at least some major aspect of Western thought. Some of the essays cover those who we might expect to be in such a work, such as Rav Yosef Ber Soloveichik, Rav Aharon Lichtenstein, zt”l, and, yibadel bein hachayim v’hachayim, Rabbi Norman Lamm. Other essays cover individuals who are less well known, and/or whom we would not necessarily associate with this topic, such as Rav Yitzchak Herzog, Professor Nehama Leibowitz (as she is called in the book, and is this case with all honorifics used here)), and Rabbi Immanuel Jakobovits zt”l.

Each essay is well-written and thought provoking, and even in the instances where I am fairly well read in the Torah of these giants of Torah, such as Rav Kook, Rav Aharon, and Rav Amital zt”l, I gained a great deal from the essay. I also learned about certain thinkers about whom I knew very little. Of particular interest, was the essay on Professor Isadore Twersky, whose combination of scholarship, piety, and avodas HaShem gave me much to think about.

Although I highly recommend this work to anyone who is moved by ideas, and/or interested in learning about these great thinkers, there are a few small critical points I would make. Although the title of the book gives a sense of the goal of the unified whole, the collection of individuals whose biographies are found in this book, do not really seem to be linked in any significant way. Additionally, while the essays on Professor Leibowitz, Rabbi Jacobovits, and Rav Herzog were very interesting, those individuals do  not seem to fit with the other thinkers, and thus, the overall theme. Finally, and it is here that I transition into my thoughts on the world of intellectual Modern Orthodoxy, nine of the ten people who are profiled are no longer alive, and the last, Rabbi Lamm is advanced in age, and fits well with the others, as a thinker whose main contributions were made in the 20th Century.

Although I believe it should already be clear, I am not suggesting that Modern Orthodoxy as a sociological movement is weak. There are many communities, shuls, schools and yeshivot who identify as Modern Orthodox. Their members believe in the importance of secular studies, are Zionistic, and have the other general traits which link together Modern Orthodox Jews. Rather, it is the intellectual philosophy which once was a major part of being Modern Orthodox, which has mostly disappeared in America.

Modern Orthodoxy is built on the shoulders of the aforementioned Rav Yosef Soloveichik, who offers a model which rarely, if ever, can be copied. As with the Rambam who is often suggested as an early model for Modern Orthodox thought, the reality of the superhuman approach of the Rav, as he is colloquially known, is one that is sui generis. He was a once in a generation (if not more) thinker, who combined the highest levels of Torah scholarship, punctilious halachic observance, and serious and profound involvement with the best ideas of the Western thought. To achieve one of those is highly admirable, while joining two of the three is no small feat. To suggest that others could achieve all three is beyond unreasonable. Communal aspirations can not be built on the basis of the approach of giants. Most of those who served as examples of a similar approach are no longer alive, while those who remain are advanced in age. If the same work was written in 30 years, it is hard to imagine who from the Modern orthodox world in America might be included. That is not to suggest that there are not individuals who strive to combine these aspects of service of God, but overall, our community's focus, as well as that of its leaders, seems to be elsewhere.

Perhaps it is by chance that the essay on Rav Aharon is at the end of the book, but in the section which is written by Rav Shalom Carmy, a complex and telling picture of Rav Aharon is drawn. Rav Carmy shows that despite the fact that Rav Aharon represented much, if not all, of what his illustrious father-in-law achieved, he was very realistic about the perils of trying to excel in all three of these areas. Furthermore, Rav Carmy shows that, given a choice between sacrificing one of these goals, it is excellence in Western thought that Rav Aharon would choose. Rav Aharon, who was deeply traditional, and, despite his creativity, quite conservative, made clear that Torah and avodas HaShem must be the main goal of any committed Jew. As opposed to Rabbi Lamm who speaks of synthesis, Rav Aharon did not use that phrase. He did not believe that secular knowledge somehow created a better Jew than Torah alone could produce. It is instructive that Rav Aharon would not be disappointed with a community that did not possess great knowledge of Western thought. He would, however, see a lacking in a community where serious Torah, tefillah, and creation of a deep inner-life was lacking.

So what now for the American Modern Orthodox community? Based on Rav Aharon, perhaps it is time for shuls and schools to put a greater emphasis on helping to produce bnei and bnot Torah, who take their avodas HaShem, including talmud Torah, and shmiras hamitzvos very seriously. Perhaps Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch’s kehillah (at least in its early iteration) can serve as a model. Rather than an emphasis on creating gedolei Torah, or even roshei yeshiva, his Frankfurt community strove to produce serious balebatim. If, as Rav Aharon suggests, we can’t have it all, we need to carefully focus on what is the ikkar, and not confuse it with the tafel. It is also good to remember that, even in YU under Rabbi Lamm’s leadership, far more students were interested in the Torah u’parnassa track, than were interested in Torah U’Mada. I suspect that this was true in earlier generations as well.

For those who strive to live a life that combines all of the ideals of classical Modern Orthodoxy, it is to be found, in a somewhat different form, in Israel. Rav Aharon and Rav Amital’s Gush, Bar-Ilan, as well as other yeshivas and institutions, offer an approach where both worlds can be lived, under the guidance, and through the example, of those who believe that Torah and Western thought can be part of one person’s worldview. It is in Israel where one can truly apply the Torah to building a just, moral, and holy society.

Finally, should we mourn the change in American Modern Orthodoxy? While there are some, myself included, who continue to be moved by ideas like Torah U’Mada (or whatever name you wish to use), a movement has no inherent right to exist. As always, communities evolve. Particularly as denominational and communal lines blur, it is unrealistic to expect that what worked to some degree in the 50s and 60s, will still be meaningful and successful today. To paraphrase what has been said (by whom is not clear), the philosophical graveyards are full of indispensable movements. I hope that whatever comes next will be nourishing to those who make up the Modern Orthodox community.

"It is not often that I read a book which not only causes me to think deeply about the subject-matter, but also gets me...

Posted by Pesach Sommer on Wednesday, March 30, 2016

A Deep and Flowing River- a review of A River Flowed from Eden by Rabbi Ari Kahn

I must admit, that I am not a fan of “vortlach” and thus, many divrei Torah heard around the Shabbos table tend to not work for me. While I understand that a devar Torah said over before bentching is not the place for a long and complicated idea, I still believe that Torah should never be presented in a way that is cute or “shtick-y”. It was precisely for that reason that I was excited to see Rabbi Ari Kahn’s latest book A River Flowed From Eden: Torah for the Shabbos Table. Having been a big fan of Rabbi Kahn’s Torah for many years, I hoped that he could combine his usual erudition and depth, with the brevity that is required for a devar Torah that is said around the Shabbos table. Thankfully, my hopes were realized.

I first encountered Rabbi Kahn nearly 20 years ago. I was learning in the kollel at Aish HaTorah, where Rabbi Kahn taught a beginners class at the time. Occasionally, when I would get a little “gemara-ed out”, I’d go up to Rabbi Kahn’s classroom and listen as he explained a piece of aggadeta to students who had been in the yeshiva for a very short time. I was incredibly impressed with Rabbi Kahn’s ability to translate and explain a fascinating story from the gemara, and make it understandable to newcomers to the world of Torah, while, at the same time, explaining the story in a novel, creative and intellectual manner. While I have subsequently read and heard many of Rabbi Kahn’s shiurim, it was these classes that I thought back to, as I read his newest book. Once again, Rabbi Kahn manages to combine his own creativity (his devar Torah on Noach  is one of the places where he is brilliant and original), and the ideas that he learned from his own revered teachers, Rav Yosef Soloveitchik, Rav Yitzchak Hutner, and Rav Aharon Lichtenstein, zichronam liveracha, and present them in a way that is accessible even for those who do not have the same background.

To cite one example from parashat Shelach, this week’s parsha, Rav Kahn notes that when Moshe delivers instructions to the meraglim at the beginning of the parsha, his words indicate that, in fact, Moshe knows that the land is good. This can be seen from the fact that he instructs them to bring back fruit after asking if the land has fruit trees. If he were unsure of what they would find, Moshe would not have been able to say that. Quoting his rebbe Rav Soloveitchik, Rav Kahn suggests that the meraglim misunderstood their mission. Through the use of an analogy, Rav Kahn explains the sin of the meraglim as being that they saw themselves as spies, whose job was to to ascertain whether the land of Israel was good.. In the space of a few pages, Rav Kahn manages to combine depth, scholarship and creativity, while sharing Torah that will be enjoyed by everyone sitting at the Shabbos table.

Alec Goldstein, of Kodesh Press has done a wonderful job of publishing English Jewish books that are both thoughtful, readable, and attractive. It is my hope and wish that he will continue to have success doing so and that books like “A River Flows from Eden” will find the large audience that it deserves.

To order this book, please click here.

What's the Goal Behind Keeping the Mitzvot? (Audio Shiur)

In this week’s shiur we discuss the concept of Taamei HaMitzvot. After briefly examining the idea of finding reasons for specific mitzvot, we move on to discuss the general goal of the system of mitzvot. Starting in ancient Alexandria we work our way up to the Middle Ages, followed by the Modern era. By the end of the shiur we see various approaches to the goal of shemirat hamitzvot, as well as Judaism as a whole.

The shiur can also be accessed on YouTube by clicking here.

Running Time 1:10

Tzamah Nafshi- A second attempt at articulating my thoughts on mysticism for moderns

One could, if he so desired, break down the idea of love, to a combination of biological and physiological urge. Mix in some psychology and some evolutionary development, and love could be stripped of all of its romantic tendencies and notions. Thankfully, for those of us who are romantics, such reductionist thinking would be correctly understood to be missing the forest for the trees. I would contend that Modern Orthodoxy, in emphasizing rationalist approaches to Judaism, to the exclusion of mystical approaches, has made the same reductionist mistake.

Allow me to begin by making one thing clear. I do not believe in the metaphysical or theurgical claims of Kabbalah. I do not learn Torah to create heavenly worlds, and I do not see myself as a puppet whose strings can manipulate the Puppeteer. Still, I have come to believe that in rejecting the factual claims of mystical thought, Modern Orthodoxy has gone to far and thrown out the creative and passionate language of Jewish mystical thought.

Rambam describes the mitzvah of Ahavas HaShem as being analogous to a man who is in love with a woman and can’t keep her out of his mind. Echoing the words of Dovid HaMelech, he says that a person reaches the level of “taavah”- desire, to know HaShem. Even parts of the Moreh Nevuchim have language that can be called mystical, and Rambam’s son, Rav Avraham, certainly went in that direction.

Professor Shalom Rosenberg has gone so far as to suggest that the difference between rational and mystical notions of Ahavas Hashem, as being analogous to the difference between romantic and erotic love. While the latter term may seem, to some, to be out of place, in a religious discussion, the desire for ultimate closeness to God may be experienced and felt  through the singing of Lecha Dodi, Yedid Nefesh, or Tzamah Nafshi, the latter of which was written by Ibn Ezra (!).

I would suggest that, living in a post-modern era, the recognition that we can never objectively know Truth (with a capital T) frees us us up to use language that talks of God in ways to which we can better relate. Rav Solovitchik once noted, after it was made clear to him that his talmidim did not want to hear shiurim from him on Tanya, that his students only wanted his brain, as opposed to his soul. Since that time, for most of the Modern Orthodox world, things have moved even more in the overly-rational direction. One does not have to look to Kabbalah to find mystical language within our tradition as it can be found in parts of Tanach, and within some words of Chazal. To the degree that we keep such ideas and language out of the classroom, we cheat our students out of a possible way to engage passionately with God and his Torah.

Although much of Modern Orthodox thought speaks to me, too often I find it expressed in overly clinical ways, devoid of passion. By ignoring the mystical language that can be found in Tanach, Chazal, Rishonim and some of the greatest and most creative modern Jewish thinkers such as Rav Tzadok, Rav Kook and Rav Hutner, we run the risk of making Torah and mitzvot into a scientific and dispassionate pursuit. We have already seen the costs of such an approach, and it is time to turn things around before more damage is done.

When Our Rabbis are Wrong

Click here to read my latest on Times of Israel.

Post by Pesach Sommer.

If we must "fight', let us do so as brothers

Meanwhile, over on the Times of Israel, I discuss the current philosophical battle between the right wing Modern Orthodox world and the Open Orthodox world, followed by an invitation to Rabbis Gil Student and Ysoscher Katz to engage in a public dialogue, and a follow-up invitation.

Post by Pesach Sommer.