Guidance for the Perplexed? - Does the Orthodox community offer help to those who are struggling with religious beliefs?

What is Orthodox Judaism?

If it is a sociological group, a club of sorts, then we can make any membership rules we want. Want to join? Believe what we do, think as we do, or you are not welcome. If however we use the term Orthodox Judaism to describe a (the? the best? the only? -as some might say) way of being Torah observant, than what is our responsibility towards those who want to be part of that world, but struggle to accept or believe some some aspects of our belief system?

In a recent article, Rabbi Francis Nataf wrote about the things that he admires about Open-Orthodoxy. Whatever one thinks of his article, he got me thinking about one particular thing that I admire about the OO world. Many of the detractors of the OO world have suggested, basing themselves on the Rambam and others, that certain theological statements made by OO rabbis are out of the pale. There are, they insist, certain things that Orthodox Jews must believe. While the detractors might be correct, even if we haggle over the particulars, there is one thing that they almost never seem to do; offer meaningful answers to people who are struggling to accept certain Orthodox beliefs. “You are out, while we are in” they say, seeming to not care about (or is it not knowing how to answer?) the questions of those who are struggling.

What do we do with our religious struggles and doubts? What happens when, despite our best efforts to accept established doctrine, we are unable to do so? Can one be a believer while simultaneously accepting some ideas that conflict with traditional theology? These are tough questions to answer, and those of us who have gone through periods of religious struggle, not only search for answers, but also must think about which ideas that might seem true, can also be expressed publicly.

Those within the OO world take those who are struggling with religious doubts, as well as their questions, seriously. They recognize that various aspects of the modern world make it difficult to accept claims that seemed obvious in earlier times. Whatever one thinks of their answers, it’s hard to not admire the sense of עמו אנכי בצרה, I am with you in the pain of your struggles, that comes from the OO rabbis. While I am sure that those who oppose them care about their fellow Jews, their lack of putting forth other answers is, at the very least, curious.

At the same time, I wonder whether attempts to publicly wrestle with these questions can be productive. Almost every time an attempt was made by an Orthodox thinker to spell out some sort of theology or approach that might make more sense to the modern perplexed Jew, the result led to its writer being “expelled” from the orthodox community. Whether it was Louis Jacobs or Tamar Ross and Torah MiSinai, or Eliezer Berkovits, and his approach to halacha, to name just a few examples, their approach to various aspects of Torah were found to be unacceptable by members of the Orthodox world.  Courageous answers which push at the edges of traditional belief, even if ever so slightly, arouse tremendous defensiveness and pushback.

I believe that the Rambam in his introduction to his Moreh Nevuchim warns us about the dangers of espousing beliefs that will be difficult for the community to accept. There he says that his work will contain seeming contradictions, and that he will not help resolve them. He further says that he leaves it to the intelligent reader to figure out what he truly intends. The Rambam seemed to believe that some of his views needed to be kept secret in order to avoid communal reproach.

So where does that leave the Jew is struggling to believe? Perhaps, as I discovered when I myself was struggling, the questioner has to seek out learned and scholarly individuals who are willing to privately suggest that there are more nuanced approaches to Jewish theology than the commonly accepted ones. There are great thinkers, including some from the charedi world, who while outwardly professing to believe that which their community thinks is necessary, privately are much more broad than their congregants, followers, or students might realize. While it might be unfortunate that these discussions can not take place more publicly, those who are questioning should not despair, and realize that they need not go it alone.

"What is Orthodox Judaism? If it is a sociological group, a club of sorts, then we can make any membership rules we...

Posted by Pesach Sommer on Thursday, December 17, 2015

Some Thoughts on Tachanun, Tehillim, and Tefillah

I have to admit that until recently, I was one of those people who was happy when I got to skip Tachanun. Whether it was a newly married man in shul, an Erev Rosh Chodesh, or even, in a shtiebel, when it was the Yahrtzeit of some chassidic rebbe, I was far from disappointed when I got to avoid saying Tachanun. Recently that has changed (well at least partially, as the “Long Tachanun” is still a work in progress).

As I have been dealing with some challenges in my life, the beginning of Tachanun which is basically the 6th perek of Tehillim, has been one of the most important parts of davening for me. As I read the words of the Psalmist, as he cries out to God to answer his prayers, I feel a sense of relief as I find words that express so strongly what I am feeling, and struggling to express. During the past two weeks, my connection to these words has become even stronger.

Several weeks ago, I began studying Rav Elchanan Samet’s Iyunim B’Mizmorei Tehillim (which is based on his shiurim on the VBM, which have been translated into English). Rav Samet, who teaches at Yeshivat Har Etzion, explores a number of perakim from Sefer Tehillim, and analyzes them, not only with the eye of a rabbi reading a holy text, but also as a scholar with a deep and profound understanding of literature and poetry. His chapter explaining the 6th perek of Tehillim gave me a much deeper understanding and appreciation of the psalm, as, for the first time, I understood the structure of the perek, and the message that each section contained. Now, as I say these words twice each day, I feel an even greater connection with the message.

All of this has me thinking not only about tefillah in general, but specifically about Tehillim. I have never understood why Tehillim is recited, almost like a magical incantation, when someone is sick. Additionally, never having formally studied Sefer Tehillim, I never connected with its ideas and messages. As I think about this, I feel frustrated how the study of what is not only a sefer from Tanach, but also a work whose words make up so many parts of the siddur, is not taught in most schools. How can we hope to have any kavanah as we pray, if we don’t understand what we are saying? When I say understand, I don’t only mean the meaning of the words. Tehillim is poetry rather than prose. What meaning can it have for us without, at least, a basic understanding of poetry?

 

I know that I have a lot of work ahead of me. So far, I have not worked on any other section of Tehillim that is part of tefillah. Still, I am excited for what lays ahead. If I have come to identify so strongly with a part of davening which I always hoped to avoid, I am hopeful that more effort will lead to an appreciation of other sections as well. If what I have written speaks to you, I would encourage you to join me in studying Sefer Tehillim, Rabbi Samet’s sefer, and other parts of tefillah.

 

"I have to admit that until recently, I was one of those people who was happy when I got to skip Tachanun. Whether it...

Posted by Pesach Sommer on Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Unhealthy Obsession- Gil Student's RCA Fiasco

I hesitate to write this, and it is with a sense of regret that I do so. Rabbi Gil Student is a talmid chacham and someone who has helped spread Torah, both through Torah Musings, as well as through articles he has written, and books which he helped publish. I have personally gained a lot from many of his writings. He is a man of integrity and yiras shamayim. Still, in what I can only describe as his obsession with pushing Open Orthodoxy out of the door of Orthodoxy, he has crossed the line of propriety and judgment.

Nearly two years ago, I reached out to Student in the hope that, as someone who was a moderate thinker in the Right-Wing Modern Orthodox camp, he could help try and bridge the chasm that was growing between the MO and OO worlds. He made it clear that not only was he not interested in closing the gap, but that he wanted to do the opposite, and see that the OO world would be clearly seen as being outside of  the world of Orthodoxy. As disappointed as I was, I saw his decision as regrettable, but not severe enough to change my view of him as a moderate thinker who ought to be speaking for his community.

Recently, as Rabbi Avraham Gordimer became the self-appointed, and seemingly single-minded, critic of all things OO, Student appeared more temperate and balanced, and to my mind was not worthy of strong criticism. However, as the one who brought the ill-fated RCA Declaration on female rabbis to a vote, he seems to have crossed the line into obsession and lack of judgement, and thereby joined the ranks of Gordimer and others. Even for those who are opposed to women’s ordination, or to the approach to women’s ordination taken by the OO world (as is true about myself for reasons that I will not elaborate upon here), the timing of the proposal was clearly ill-conceived, and the lack of anticipation of a negative reaction was shocking. As Yoel Finkelman convincingly and astutely noted, the proposal had the very opposite effect that Student and those who share his opposition could have hoped for. Not only did it galvanize those who support women’s ordination, and bring new supporters into their ranks, but it also made those who oppose it seem clumsy, sexist, and biased.

More problematic is the fact that Student’s connection to the RCA is questionable. As someone who has private semicha, he would not be entitled to membership  in the RCA, if not for a recent rule change. Additionally, as opposed to the many members who are shul rabbis, and thus have a mandate to speak for their community (many of whom opposed Student’s proposal), Student is not a practicing rabbi, and has no constituents to whom he must answer. While he does consult with several rabbis about what he posts on Torah Musings, one of those with whom he consulted, Micha Berger, a noted talmid chahcham and thinker, was removed from his position, apparently for pushing back too much on Student’s zealotry. Furthermore, while he enjoys and makes use of the power that comes with membership in the RCA, he seems to speak with a degree of dishonesty when he says that women do not need semicha, as it does not give one more power.

Perhaps most shocking of all is the fact that Student not only does not regret his actions, but continues to believe that he was correct in forcing the RCA vote. While he might justify his actions as he has in the past by saying that he consulted with a posek on this issue, choosing a posek who is not American, does not understand the facts on the ground here, and is not always so sociologically astute again suggests that Student has lost the ability to be a moderate spokesman on this, and, perhaps other issues.

Watching the fiasco that he started and the damage that it brought about, I can’t help but think of Ahab the obsessive captain in Melville’s Moby Dick, whose inability to back off from his goal, proved so costly to his crew and ultimately himself. A chacham, we are told in Pirkei Avos is one who can anticipate the results of his actions. When a talmid chacham loses this ability, it is either time for him to look more critically at his actions, or for those who trusted him to look for a more temperate, honest and responsible voice.

 

"I hesitate to write this, and it is with a sense of regret that I do so. Rabbi Gil Student is a talmid chacham and...

Posted by Pesach Sommer on Tuesday, November 10, 2015

YU's Next President- who gets a say?

While the selection for the next president of the United States is on many people’s minds, there is an additional presidency that many in the Jewish community have been discussing. With the recent announcement by Richard Joel that he will not continue as president of Yeshiva University, once his current contract ends, the Jewish world is abuzz with suggestions and speculation of who will fill this important role. What hasn’t been discussed is the process that will be used to find the right candidate. While one writer suggested the criteria through which the new president should be chosen (albeit with such specificity that all but one or two people in the world  have been eliminated from the discussion), he gives no reason why he should be the arbiter of this decision.

I strongly believe that the future of YU matters for the American Jewish community in general, and specifically for the future of Modern Orthodoxy. If I am correct, the decision of how to choose the next president and who will do the choosing, is too important to be done behind closed doors. While it is obviously not possible for the whole process to be open, the process leading up to the search needs to be public.

I strongly believe that a committee should be put together consisting of a broad swath of the different constituencies in the Modern Orthodox world; men and women, Jewish professionals, rabbis and laymen, YU graduates and even students, should be chosen to decide which qualities and qualifications the next president should have. Additionally, at least some of these same type of people should be on the search committee once an open process has led to a public discussion of what YU should be as it moves into the future. A secret and closed process made by the Board of Trustees and/or unpublicized members risks too much.

In essence, I am arguing that the future of YU, much of which will be shaped by its next president, will not just affect future students, it will affect all of us who identify so strongly with Modern Orthodoxy. On some level, YU belongs to all of us, and as the flagship of Centrist orthodoxy, is too important to fail. With the economic situation of the school in peril, and with many possible paths that YU might take, our voices need to be heard and seriously considered. Anything less than this risks too much.

 

"I strongly believe that the future of YU matters for the American Jewish community in general, and specifically for the...

Posted by Pesach Sommer on Thursday, October 29, 2015

Remembering What Matters- Why does Succot follow Yom Kippur?

 

Although it’s to be expected, the first mindless mitzvah I do after Yom Kippur always leaves me feeling very disappointed. Having spent weeks building up to Yom Kippur, with its conclusion where each word of  Neilah is said with passion, care and intent, the inevitable descent always seems to happen so quickly. What has happened to the commitments we made while doing teshuva? Is there anything that can be done to help us internalize the gains we’ve made on Yom Kippur? How do we avoid simply going back to the life we lived before?

According to the Torah (Vayikrah 23:43) the mitzvah of Succot is to help us recall that God caused us to dwell in Succot when we left Egypt. Famously, the Tur asks why we recall something connected to the exodus from Egypt in Tishrei, rather than in Nissan when it occurred. While the Tur suggests one well-known reason, I’d like to suggest another one.

If asked to group Succot with other holidays, we might suggest Pesach and Shavuot, as they, along with Succot, make up the Shalosh Regalim. The Vilna Gaon suggests another grouping, based on proximity on the calendar. It is hard to imagine that it is simply by chance that Succot falls out right after Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. Surely there must be a connection, but what might it be?

In both the gemara, as well as in the Rambam, an emphasis is made on the idea that we are supposed to leave our homes, described as a “dirat keva” (permanent dwelling), and live in a sukkah, which is called a “dirat arai” (temporary dwelling). For seven days, or eight for those outside of Israel, we leave the comfort of our comfortable homes and live in a flimsy hut. There must be a message in making this change so soon after the Yamim Noraim. In fact, the Rema, Rav Moshe Isserles, suggests that one should start building his sukkah right after the conclusion of Yom Kippur, leading one to conclude that two holidays are connected.

On Yom Kippur, we emphasize our spiritual side to the exclusion of our physical reality. We avoid common physical pleasures, acting for one day, as if we are angels. We search deep inside and discover spiritual strengths we might not have known we possess. We set new goals, and make the decision to be more than we’ve been. Still, this purely spiritual state is ephemeral. As physical beings it must be so.

Despite the inevitable return to ordinary human life, the mitzvah of sukkah offers us something to take with us. Do not forget, it calls to us, that there are two sides to you. One is permanent and eternal, and one is temporary. We enter the month of Elul with things having gotten out of balance. We have taken the side of ourselves that we have on loan for a relatively short amount of time, and made it the focus of our lives. As we experience the Yamim Noraim, we get back in touch with the spiritual aspects of our existence.  The Sukkah calls out to us, sounding like Shlomo Hamelech in Kohelet. Life is not about accruing wealth. No material pleasures last forever. Remember, calls the Sukkah, which part of your existence is permanent and which is temporary. Return to life, but do not return to normal. Remember what truly matters. Remember who you are and who you wish to be.

 

Speechless Before the Judge- Some thoughts on teshuva

I was lucky. Being the one giving the shiur, I got to choose the subject. I picked a topic that I could speak about with confidence. I chose the topic that doesn’t scare me, the one that doesn’t keep me from sleeping comfortably. I stayed away from the topic where I would have sounded less rabbinic, the one where I can hardly serve as an example.

 

There is a story that is told about a non-observant professor who had a conversation with the saintly Rav Aryeh Levine. The professor suggested that those who are religious are lucky, as they can do teshuva, as they have the religious texts which show them how to do so. The rabbi responded that for that very reason, it is difficult to do teshuva. I think I understand the story. I’ve opened the sefarim, read the words, and tried to apply them. Still, I am not sure I have done teshuva, at least not in the way I want to. No, the way that I need to.

 

So I chose to speak about teshuva, and how it relates to God. I spoke about moving from an approach of fear, to one of joy. Of seeing teshuva not as a way to avoid punishment, but as a way to become the person we wish to be, and the person we were created to be. I spoke about this because I could. It’s a message I’ve mostly eternalized in my own life. This year, I’ve worked on the religious side of things in my life. I am no longer as scared as I once was of Divine punishment. I see a deeper aspect to religion. Unsaid in all of this was how I think about teshuva as it connects to my relationship with others, and with myself.

 

I couldn’t and can’t speak about those things because I just don’t know what to say. When the things I’ve done wrong to others go from disconnected mistakes to expected patterns, what does teshuva even mean? How does one continue to apologize for wrongdoings that have become habits, and seemingly taken on a life of their own? How do I stand before God and say that this year will be different, when I have no reason to believe that to be true?

 

There was a moment this past Rosh Hashanah where this thought hit me, and I’ve been reeling ever since. It was a moment of recognition where I realized that so much that troubles me about who I am when I’m not in front of a classroom teaching Torah, or away from the public eye, did not just happen, but came about through choice. At that moment, all of the excuses simply faded away. As I let that thought settle over me, there was no fear of punishment, and no thought about how God might judge me. There was something worse. I sat not before the proverbial beis din shel ma’alah (the Heavenly court), but before a much harsher judge and jury. I sat facing myself, having no idea what I could possibly say.

The Many Roads to Serving HaShem- audio shiur marking the 80th yarhrtzeit of Rav Kook

In this week’s shiur, we look at a derasha delivered by Rav Kook, as a way of marking his 80th yarhrtzeit.

We examine the challenge of balancing growth as an individual versus being part of the larger community. Combing a fascinating derasha which helps us begin to turn towards preparing for Rosh Hashana, along with a similar idea found in the Shem MiShmuel, we learn that personal identity, and commitment to the klal need not contradict. Most importantly, we discover that there are multiple legitimate ways to serve HaShem.

Running time- 40 minutes