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The Jews Are Taking Over

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I had an interesting experience this morning.

I drove my son to a town about 20 minutes away to take his road test. When we arrived I had to get out of the car and wait outside. I decided to walk into the nearby Mobile station to use the Men’s room. The room was situated inside the building, but down a short hall off to the side of a food kiosk. When I came out of the bathroom I said a blessing under my breath and then headed the ten feet down the hall to the kiosk. And there, just before I turned the bend, was a man telling the Indian lady behind the counter taking his order, “The Jews are taking over.”

He was a 50ish, graying, well-dressed man and as he said the words “taking over” I emerged from the hall. He obviously didn’t realize I was there until that moment and looked a bit mortified for a moment when he saw me.

I didn’t have time to react. In that flash of a second I think I considered all the alternatives between just walking past him silently to cursing him out. What I ended up doing was saying very cooly the following: “Well, thanks for telling me that. I didn’t know.”

And I walked past.

Later, when I saw my son return, I walked out of the kiosk and saw this guy getting into his car. It was a very nice luxury car. Mine is a beat-up economy car. But I’m taking over the world.

In any event, I’m not naive. Believe me, I’m well aware of anti-Semitism. However, this is the first time I’ve experienced it directly in more than ten years, as best as I can remember.

I don’t necessarily have anything more the say now other than relating that.

On the other hand, it is interesting that just yesterday I heard Rabbi Orlowek on a tape talk about how he reacted to a couple of incidents of anti-Semitism directed at him: “As long as it doesn’t touch me it’s his problem, not mine… I know I have something inside. A Jew who does not have any connection to Judaism [gets terribly upset, on the other hand]…. It’s like a person who walks into a store to buy something, puts money down on the counter and walks out. It’s a terrible feeling: to pay money and walk out without the merchandise. [Being Jewish but having no connection to Judaism] is analogous to putting money down and not walking out with the product. I have the product. I know I have to ‘pay.’ I’m not crushed over the fact that they don’t like me. Because I know I have something. It’s true I’m paying a price. But I have something. I have the product.”

I don’t know if I lived up to this madrega this morning that Rabbi Orlowek talks about. I think I was a little incensed. Maybe a little more than a little. And certainly it reminds one of countless mussar shmeussim about how insecure the Jew is in the world; how Esav hates Yaakov, even as he dresses in a nice suit and acts politely toward you; how thin is the membrane separating us from real anti-Semitism; how we have to remember we only have our Father in Heaven to rely upon. And so forth.

But it was unnerving. At least for a moment. Baruch Hashem I have Rabbi Orlowek to listen to. Baruch Hashem I have him to remind me that I have the product. And that even though it comes with a price it’s better to have the product than not.

Baruch Hashem we lived blessed lives, much more secure than our great grandparents. May we never forget that and may Hashem continue to protect us and consider us having paid for and earned that protection.

The Torah Teminah on “In the Place that Baalei Teshuva Stand…”

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Today’s Daf Yomi from the gemorra in Taanis (27) says that the Anshei Maamad shouldn’t fast on Sundays because after eating on Shabbos fasting is too severe.

R’ Moshe Schwerd, a Kew Gardens Hills Daf Yomi Maggid Shiur, brought down the Torah Teminah from his Sefer Tosefes Beracha. He says this is the reason that one who eats on Erev Yom Kippur is credited as if he fasted for two days. After eating, the fast of Yom Kippur becomes that much harder to keep and that is also why Rashi says one should eat a lot on Erev Yom Kippur.

The Torah Teminah goes further and uses this principal to explain the gemorra in Berachot (33B) which says “Makom she-baalei teshuvah omdim, tzaddikim gemurim einam omdim sham”, -“In the place where Baalei Teshuva stand, Perfect Tzaddikim do not stand there.” Since Baalei Teshuva have partaken of that which is forbidden it makes staying away from it that much harder and therefore when they do Teshuva, they stand in a place where Perfect Tzaddikim do not.

OHEL is Looking for Homes for Foster Children

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OHEL is looking for a long term or pre-adoptive foster home for a foster child, Judah. Judah has been in foster care since the age of three. When Judah was nine, he was moved to a residential setting in order to best help him with certain psychiatric and emotional issues. He is doing very well at the residence and they have decided that it’s time for him to be placed in a home.

Judah is 12 years old. He is very sweet and loving. He is very charming and engaging. He has significant learning disabilities but he is very smart. He has an inner strength that is hard to describe. He has dealt with adversity in a way that is simply inspiring.

But like any little boy, Judah needs a lot of love. Two of Judah’s siblings have been adopted and Judah longs for a family like they have. He needs attention, structure and stability. He needs a home. He needs a family.

If you are interested, or if you know anyone who is interested, you can either email one of his previous foster parents at emansouth@aol.com or contact Shulamit Marcus at the homefinding department at Ohel at 718-851-6300. Attached is an article with more information written by his previous foster father.

If you do not feel that you or anyone you know is able to meet Judah’s needs; please consider opening your own heart and home to another young person in need of foster care – and please also talk to your friends, family members and neighbors about doing the same. Ohel is constantly searching for foster families in the metropolitan area who can provide foster children with a loving and nurturing home. There is a particular need for families in Brooklyn. Please call Shulamit Marcus at 718-851-6300 for more information.

Aish/Discovery Releases “Inspired Too — Kiruv Across America”

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Inspired Too is premiering this weekend. Aish has also set up a great site, Kiruv.Com, with a wealth of Kiruv material.

By Yosef Gesser

It has been a little over a year since Aish HaTorah released its highly acclaimed film “Inspired,” which was seen by thousands in major communities nationwide. The film featured several prominent baalei teshuvah from a variety of backgrounds who related how they became connected to Yiddish-keit. These individuals testified that despite the success they had attained in their careers, they had become disenchanted with the path their lives were taking and had begun searching for more fulfillment in life.

These in-depth interviews, which included well-known personalities such as Rabbi David Gottlieb and Rabbi Leib Keleman, who have had an enormous impact in bringing others closer to Torah, clearlt demonstrated how receptive secular Jews are to learning about Judaism. It opened the eyes of the target audience — people who are frum from birth (FFB) — and made them aware of the latent potential of our as-yet-nonobservant brethren, what their mindset is and how the frum world can play a vibrant role in reaching out to them.

“Inspired Too — Kiruv Across America,” the sequel to the first “Inspired” presentation, is the brainchild of Rabbi Yitz Greenman, the executive producer of the film. Rabbi Greenman reports that “Inspired” was enormously successful in conveying the message that kiruv is both doable and effective. Yet many people question if they are capable of doing it.

The new presentation will address that question by telling the other side of the story. It will focus on the perspective of numerous individuals who grew up in the Torah world and have actively taken the step of reaching out to their estranged fellow Jews.

Viewers will have the unique opportunity to see and hear first-person accounts from people like themselves, from their own communities, who have hands-on experience in doing kiruv. They will learn that these people derive satisfaction not only from having effected positive changes in the lives of fellow Yidden, but in their own lives as well.

Rabbi Yaakov Salomon, who co-produced the film, is a well-known figure in the Torah world and as a senior lecturer for the celebrated Discovery Seminars has had a tremendous impact on thousands worldwide. He is keenly aware of the tremendous strides Aish and other kiruv organizations have made in bringing countless people into the fold over the last thirty years, since the advent of the teshuvah movement.

Yet, despite the success that he and other kiruv activists have had, Rabbi Salomon bemoans the fact that so much more remains to be accomplished in order to reach the more than five million secular Jews in the United States and more than ten million worldwide who are ignorant of their heritage.

Rabbi Salomon is greatly optimistic about the impact the new presentation is expected to have on the tens of thousands of frum Jews who are needed to address the spiritual conflagration that plagues Klal Yisrael. In his words, it will be “more dramatic, emotional, much funnier” than the previous film. Attendees should be prepared to “laugh a little and cry a little, and bring a box of tissues,” he says. Above all, the film “will awaken people to do something to assist their brothers and sisters spiritually.”

Rabbi Salomon is quick to point out that this call to action regarding kiruv doesn’t mean viewers are being asked to dratically go out of their way to influence other Jews. It could be as simple as speaking to a neighbor or someone next to you on line at the store.

“People can be moved to get involved if they see it as part of their calling,” says Rabbi Salomon. “The kiruv organizations can’t do it alone.” One of Aish/Discovery’s senior lecturers who is featured in “Inspired Too” is Rabbi Eliyahu Bergstein. Rabbi Bergstein is a veteran marbitz Torah, having taught in yeshivos in Brooklyn and delivered shiurim for baalei batim prior to getting involved in kiruv at the suggestion of a rabbi he met while visiting Edmonton, Alberta, Canada several years ago. He originally undertook to teach the popular Torah Codes class, which led to his teaching other classes for Aish/Discovery.

In view of his background, he is in a unique position to understand why some members of the heimishe olam may not react positively to overtures encouraging them to get involved in kiruv. His response reflects the reality that there are enormous advantages for them in doing outreach.

One reason, Rabbi Bergstein explains, why some in the frum olam may be hesitant to talk to others about Yiddishkeit is that they are afraid of being asked questions they are not capable of answering, such as those pertaining to deep theological issues like the existence of G-d, Creation, evolution and proofs that the Torah is true. Rabbi Bergstein says such questions are rarely asked. Secular Jews by and large ask questions that are much more elementary and that the average frum individual is generally equipped to answer.

In the event that advanced inquiries are raised, one can respond, “I don’t know the answer, but I will be more than happy to look into this and get back to you.” Such a response is very appropriate since, in addition to ultimately providing an answer, it demonstrates that the frum individual is taking a sincere interest in this person and his inquiry and is willing to pursue the matter.

Secondly, in the event one doesn’t know how to respond, he should view the question as a valuable opportunity to find out the answer for his own benefit. Utilizing such an opportunity to add to one’s own storehouse of Torah knowledge is an illustration of the well-known principle “Mitalmidai yoser mekulam,” meaning that questions from one’s students serve to stimulate his own growth in Torah and ruchnius, says Rabbi Bergstein. When one is forced to focus on yesodos of Yahadus such as Torah min haShamayim, the role of Torah sheb’al peh, and the meaning of Shabbos, he gains a sense of clarity. There are valid, compelling answers to challenging questions.

Rabbi Bergstein offers another powerful motivation for people to engage in outreach by offering a perspective of Chazal concerning kiruv and influencing others. “Kol hamekayem nefesh achas b’Yisrael ke’ilu kiyem kol haTorah kulah — Anyone who spiritually saves one Jewish person is credited as having fulfilled the entire Torah” is one such statement.

Additionally, in our times, when people are constantly searching for segulos for effecting refuos, finding a shidduch, obtaining parnassah and yeshuos in numerous other areas of nisayon, our Sages offer timely advice which may not be familiar. The Gemara in Bava Metziah 85a relates, “Kol hamelamed es ben am haaretz Torah, afilu Hakadosh Baruch Hu gozeir gezeirah, mevatlah bishvilo,” meaning that teaching someone who lacks Torah knowledge has the power to nullify evil decrees.

This is based on a passuk in Yirmiyahu 15: “V’im totzi yakar mizolel kefi si’hiyeh, yashuvu heimah eilecha…” This indicates that one who brings out the best in someone who is spiritually lacking will be like Hashem’s mouth, as it were; he is, in effect, viewed by Hashem as His “spokesman” in leading that person to Torah, and as such, is worthy of Hashem’s blessings.

Some people may be reluctant to teach others, wondering how far-reaching the results will be. They may wonder if it’s worth their time and energy. To counter this erroneous perception, Rabbi Bergstein cites the first perek of Pirkei D’Rabi Eliezer, which describes how Eliezer ben Hyrcanus, a young man ignorant of Torah in his late twenties, approached Rabban Yochanan Ben Zakkai to teach him such basics as Shema and tefillah.

The future Rabi Eliezer, however, was not satisfied with this, for he aspired to greatness in Torah. Rabban Yochanan persevered in teaching him and Rabi Eliezer eventually became his prize talmid.

While the growth of Rabi Eliezer is naturally impressive, it is especially significant that Rabban Yochanan, the Gadol Hador, didn’t delegate instruction of such an elementary nature to others but undertook the task himself. From this we see the value of such an agenda, says Rabbi Bergstein. If someone desires to learn, we must accommodate him.

Another individual active in kiruv whose activities serve as a source of inspiration for others is Mr. Jonathan Ehrman of Passaic, whose valiant efforts are spotlighted in “Inspired Too.” To illustrate the influence a layman can have on people’s lives, he relates the story of a young man, then a student at Einstein Medical School, with whom he was learning a number of years ago on a one-on-one basis at Lincoln Square Synagogue in Manhattan.

Thanks to his influence, the young man gradually starting keeping mitzvos and eventually fully embraced a life of Torah. Ultimately, he married a young frum woman who was also a student at Einstein. Today he is a doctor who lives in Monsey with his wife and six children, thanks to the efforts of Mr. Ehrman.

Openings for kiruv are readily available, points out Mr. Ehrman. Whether you are on line at the store or on a plane flight, you need to cultivate the mindset that Hashem is sending you opportunities every day. It can take the form of an invitation for a Shabbos meal; or it can be as simple as being stopped before Chanukah by a secular person who asks where to purchase Chanukah candles, and taking advantage of the situation to give a brief dvar Torah and other information about the upcoming festival.

Mr. Ehrman relates that members of the Passaic community have been very active in reaching out to unaffiliated Jews in the area. Ultimately, their contributions became part of the Project Inspire initiative that has been launched by Aish HaTorah in many communities nationwide.

Mr. Ehrman notes that his work to propel others along the road to Yiddishkeit has contributed greatly toward making him a better Jew and has provided chinuch opportunities for his childen, who have surely gained from sharing their Torah knowledge with guests who visit their home on Shabbos.

The new film will include a message from Harav Nosson Tzvi Finkel, shlita, Rosh Yeshivas Mir in Yerushalayim. The Rosh Yeshivah’s participation in this project drives home the importance he attaches to kiruv rechokim.

A message will likewise be offered by Harav Noach Weinberg, founding Rosh Yeshivah of Aish HaTorah and the guiding force for all of its programs worldwide.

The producers point out that there is an element of koach hatzibbur at work when people view such a presentation together. This gives them the opportunity to discuss the inspiration and ideas they have gleaned and galvanizes them for action.

To purchase tickets for the film or to volunteer to assist at screenings, call 1-800-SHABBAT (742-2228).

Don’t miss this special opportunity to be “Inspired!”

Conflicting Emotions

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On Sunday afternoon, I stood on a hillside in a cemetery as my great aunt’s coffin was lowered into the earth. At 93 years-old, she was the last of her siblings to pass away and thereby close a chapter in our family’s history.

I have such conflicting emotions about the events on Sunday because I was very close to my great aunt who was an exemplar of kindness and hakaras hatov. She was a person who was a source of encouragement to others because she was continually happy and only spoke about the good points of others.

I think, however, that my conflicting emotions about Sunday stem from the fact that I cannot simply go to a funeral without becoming extremely agitated with the unconventional way funerals are handled in my family. Five years ago, one of my great-aunt’s older brothers passed away, was cremated, and his ashes were scatted in a Jewish cemetery on the graves of his parents and brother and sister. I was so incensed about this idea at the time and felt helpless because I had absolutely no say in what happened. This pain was coupled with the knowledge that my own grandfather had been cremated as well.

With these experiences in my past, I walked into the Jewish funeral home on Sunday to be greeted with a funeral featuring an open casket. To make things worse, there was a half-hour before the service began and family members and friends gathered around the open casket cried, hugged, and even engaged in idle chit chat. I was horrified at the sight of people standing with their backs to an open casket and laughing with their friends. I wanted to scream at the lack of respect these people were displaying. But, I remained silent. Who was I, only a grand-nephew, to make a scene in front my great-aunt’s children and grand-children while she lay in the room before us? In reality, what could I have done?

At the cemetery, I helped carry her coffin. My great aunt’s son was across from me on the other side and began to ask me about my family; making me uncomfortable as we carried his mother to her final resting place. Once again, this sacred moment was shattered by small talk.

I threw a shovel full of earth on my great-aunt’s coffin, as is tradition, and went over to give words of comfort to her son. I told him that not only is his mother now together with his father, but that I also remembered that there were other family members buried in this cemetery. I told him that that now she is also together with her parents and her brothers and sister; that she has left one family and has returned to another. He responded, “They are also buried here?” When I explained that they are buried at another cemetery, he quickly added, “Oh, you mean together in a metaphysical way.”

I drove home with this comment echoing in my mind since I perceived that he used the word “metaphysical” in place of “make believe” or “hocus pocus”. I lamented the fact that in today’s society that many people have lost the ability to take the concept of a neshoma returning to its source in a literal manner. I reflected on how many sacred moments that I have witnessed in recent months that were marred by unthinking people; a bris in which people stood taking pictures with their camera phones over the mohel’s shoulders; a wedding where members of the wedding party complained about being hungry and continually inquired when they would get to eat; and now this, sons standing with their backs to their mother’s body while they laughed and engaged in small talk.

I have no more words. Perhaps I do not belong on this planet any more.

This article was first posted on A Simple Jew’s site.

A Tough Question

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A Tough Question

Being the only observant Jew in my immediate family, I get asked many questions about Orthodox Judaism. Some are very straightforward questions about keeping shabbat and kosher and other questions are more difficult to answer. The last time I visited my parents, my mom asked me why there are some observant Jews that are very strict about keeping shabbat and kosher but not so strict about keeping the laws of shomer negia.

My first reaction about hearing this question was “Do I really have to answer this?”, I don’t like being put into the position of spokesperson for Orthodox Judiasm, especially since I am very uncomfortable labeling how I practice Judaism.

After that initial thought, I decided to give it a shot. First I mentioned to my mom that people are putting off marriage for a variety of reasons, wanting to establish careers, live on their own before being married, etc. There is less of a stigma in society these days when it comes to premarital sex and living together before marriage, ie the popularity of “Sex and the City”.

When you get married young, you don’t have to struggle so much when it comes to shomer negia, although there are different struggles to be faced. In my neighborhood, I see people who are single well into their 30s and 40s and even though times have changed, the urges for physical contact have not changed. Everyone gets lonely, even in the city that never sleeps. It takes a herculean amount of self-discipline and self-confidence in order to remain shomer negia. When you live in a city with so many options at your door, it is a wonder that any adults are shomer negia today. I summed up the discussion by saying that some people are stronger at controlling these urges and are able to wait until they get married. Regardless, no one has the right to judge. We all have our own struggles to deal with and it is better to focus on yourself and how you can be a better person rather than tearing people down.

Has anyone ever had to answer these type of questions before? How would you have handled the situation?

The Night Hashem Did the Rest

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By Ruby Ginsberg

My son had a Rebbe in first grade who used to tell the boys “You do your best and Hashem will do the rest”. At no time has this credo been more meaningful to my family and me than on one summer night three years ago.

With the kids back from sleep away camp, we were getting set for a family vacation to Montreal. Aside from fun and family togetherness, a good family trip should have its chinuch aspect as well. Towards that, we took upon ourselves, as best as we could, the challenge to daven three times a day with a minyan while on the road. Together with finding accommodations and attractions along the way, our planning included mapping out the minyanim across our route.

And so, on day 1 we headed north, and after spending the afternoon at Howe Caverns, we made sure to arrive in Albany shortly before sunset to catch mincha and maariv. And on day 2 after shachris, we drove through the Adirondacks. After marveling at Hashem’s wonders at Ausable Chasm (“The Grand Canyon of the East”) we made sure to arrive in Montreal in time for mincha and maariv. Once in Montreal, with its vibrant Jewish community, davening with a minyan was not difficult.

For Shabbos, we found a chalet in Mont-Tremblant, an hour north of Montreal, in what was somewhat similar to the bungalow colonies of the Catskills. Yeshiva had already started for the children of Montreal, so we barely had a minyan, but a minyan nonetheless. The upside of that was that everyone packed out on Sunday morning, leaving our family with a private lake for swimming and boating. You don’t give up something as rare as that so easily, so we stayed well into the afternoon. We packed up and headed back into Montreal for an “early” 6:00 P.M. mincha. And then we were faced with a dilemma.

The first maariv in town was at 8:00 P.M. If we were to wait, then we would complete the 6.5-hour drive to Queens close to 3:00 A.M. One of our sons had his first day of Yeshiva the next day, and subjecting him to that was just too irresponsible, even for me. So we set out for home at 6:15.

I immediately started making maariv calculations. Albany? We get there close to 10:00 P.M.– too late. Queens? After 12:30 A.M. — too late. Not looking good. Somberly, I informed my wife that we were about to lose our perfect streak. Her response is the hallmark of the akeres habayis: “There is no way”, she replied “that you are going to miss the last tefilah b’tzibur after missing not a single one till now. Figure something out.” Whoa.

So I thought for a while until it occurred to me that Monroe/Kiryas Yoel was somewhere near Thruway exit 16, which we would pass around 11:30. I had never been there before, and I certainly don’t know their minyan schedule, but the Satmar community must have a minyan factory that operates well past midnight, right? A bit short on the details, but a plan was in formation.

10:30 P.M. New Baltimore rest area. Time for a rest stop. As we waited for the ladies to finish powdering their noses, I noticed a chassidishe fellow standing by himself. Great! A chance to flesh out The Plan.

“Sholom Aleichem. Are you from Monroe?”

“Yes”.

“Would I find a minyan there in about an hour or so?”

“Sure. Even later. You’re looking for a minyan? There’s a heimishe oilam here. We could probably pull one together now.”

HERE??? In Yennemsville, N.Y??? At 10:30 at night? How could that be??? But sure, enough, within minutes a minyan had gathered, and we davened tfillah b’tzibur in the corner of the parking lot in New Baltimore, N.Y.

The joy that I felt davening that maariv under the stars, completing our perfect streak, is indescribable, and something that I will remember for the rest of my life. Hashem had sent us a gift. He delivered us a minyan. We had tried our very best. And Hashem did the rest.

Do BT Parents Risk Kids Off the Derech?

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I knew I was in trouble when the reporter for a Jewish publication started off his interview with me as follows: “So, you wrote “What Do You Mean, You Can’t Eat in My Home?” because you became religious and your family is not, right? We had one orthodox relative, my mother’s brother, and he refused to come to my wedding even though I was marrying a Jewish girl. Ridiculous. My mother hasn’t spoken to him since.”

Well, now I understood where the reporter was coming from. Throughout the interview, his anger towards the BT/secular family tug of war oozed out in his questions. And then, he really nailed me with this one: “You see how much pain you caused your family when you became religious. Do you ever wonder how you’ll react if one of your children grows up to follow a different religious path than you want for them?”

Subtext of his question — “are you prepared for pay back time when one of your kids does to you what you’ve done to your parents?”

Ouch.

Of course I’m not prepared for this possibility — chas v’shalom! My husband and I have given up financial security, family vacations, the pleasure of a big suburban house and a yard, never mind all the relaxed get-togethers we could have had with our family, and the non kosher restaurants we no longer visit. If it were not for paying yeshiva tuition since preschool, we could retire at age sixty, with enough money to be comfortable. Now my husband figures he’ll be working till age 90, because there IS no retirement fund. These sacrifices we would make again in a heartbeat, because look at the rewards! Priceless! But after all this, what do you mean, they might choose another religious path?! Impossible!

I gave the reporter the answer he was looking for — “I would, of course, be devastated. I hope, if that event should ever transpire, that we would be able to communicate about it in such a way that we remained a close family.”

The interview came to a close, and I have been thinking about his question ever since. I read in frum publications like the Yeted, Jewish press and Mispacha all of the angst about frum kids off the derech. I reassure myself into magical thinking that our children have grown up with the kind of exposure to yiddishkeit we never had, and two parents who role model a committed frum life. They couldn’t possibly leave this behind. . . could they?

And then, I remember. It still shocks me. My children are FFB. They are as much at risk as any frum family doing everything right. Even when we’ve given every ounce of our resources towards pointing our children on a torah-observant path, there is no guarantee to BT parents that reads: “Given the financial and emotional investment you have made in your children, and the price you have paid in family upheaval, you are guaranteed frum grandchildren and plenty of nachas.”

Our children are shaped by us, but not in our control.

So, this is my honest answer to that reporter’s question.

I hope that I would NOT get bent out of shape if my second-born daughter married a real mensch who happens to wear a knit kippah and jeans instead of the black hat and white shirt her father wears, or if my first-born daughter falls in love with a Hassid who won’t eat my cooking unless I buy meat only from his butcher when they visited. I’d like to believe that if my exceptionally bright son announces to me when he’s all grown up that he wants to go directly to college after high school instead of the expected year or two of yeshiva in Israel, that we could find a “kosher” way for him to follow his professional dreams. Are my children still committed to the basics of Torah observance? Do they love being frum and do they look forward to raising children who will be? Do they love Hashem, and do they believe that Hashem loves them? These are the questions I hope I would ask. My job as their mom was to provide the foundation of a loving, Torah observant home, and a yeshiva education, from which they will carve their own journey.

If, G-d forbid, any one of my children chose to leave Torah observance all together, as that reporter insinuated could happen? My heart would be broken, just like I broke my parents’ heart when I left their secular derech. We would call in the professionals, pour our hearts out to Hashem, and never give up trying to bring that child back to the derech of Torah observance. I would not easily accept the notion of “as long as it makes you happy” — the romantic ideal of an unconditionally loving mother. I would storm the heavens with my prayers for their return to Torah. I daven every day for the nachas of watching our children grow up to build their own observant Jewish home, with Hashem’s blessings. Am I prepared for anything else? Absolutely not.

Azriela Jaffe is the author of “What Do You Mean, You Can’t Eat in My Home, A Guide to How Newly Observant Jews and their Lesser Observant Relatives Can Still Get Along”, which can be purchased at Barnes and Noble

Grass Roots Kiruv and Inspired Too

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Rabbi Shaffier in a recent Shmuz about Kiruv made a great case for Grass Roots Kiruv. He pointed out that a non Rabbinic figure can often make a great impact because he is relating to the person peer to peer. He also pointed out many reasons that we should get involved. The only don’t in Grass Roots Kiruv is judgementalism. He felt that was the only taboo that would turn people off. Perhaps we’ll delve into that issue in a future post.

As you may know, Aish is kicking off the next phase of its Project Inspired, grass roots kiruv program with the premiere of the movie Inspired Too. You can also take part in the latest Purim campaign at the Project Inspired web site.

In Kew Gardens Hills, we’ll be showing the Inspired Too movie at Congregation Ahavas Yisroel on February 10th and February 17th at 7:45 PM and 9:45 PM. Admission is $10 at the door and $5 for advance registration. Click here to see the trailer and for scheduling information in a Shul near you.

In addition, there will be a kiruv training seminar on February 24th at 8:00 PM.

The Ratio of Cows to Grandchildren

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I’ve recently picked up the book “The Kiruv Files” by Dovid Kaplan and Elimelich Meisels (Targum Press 2003). It’s quite a good read with chapters on many issues faced by newly minted BTs. It’s also pretty funny. Here is a particularly interesting excerpt:

You may have heard of Yitz Greenbaum, one of the early Israeli Zionist leaders and a man notorious for his antipathy toward Torah and religious Jews. He is famed for his statement “One cow in Palestine is worth more than a million religious Jews in Europe.”

Well, bearing that in mind, read the following story told to me by a Rebbe of mine.

One afternoon my Rebbe was busy with various tasks, overseeing the sundry details of running a large yeshivah, when someone came running up to him and said, “Rebbe, you’ve got to come to the conference room right now. We’re interviewing a potential student for the yeshiva.”

My Rebbe, not grasping the uniqueness of this particular interview, said “Look, I’m kind of busy right now. Maybe someone else can do the interview.”

“But, Rebbe, you don’t understand. This is not just any student. This is Yitz Greenbaum’s grandson!”

“Really?” He exclaimed. “This I’ve got to see. Yitz Greenbaum’s grandson on his way to becoming a religious Jew! To witness how Hashem has brought it all full circle, that is truly a miracle!”. He immediately dropped what he was doing and went to meet the young man.

Another descendant of a distinguished politician of Greenbaum’s era also came to learn in a famous yeshiva in Eretz Yisrael. This boy’s grandfather was a brilliant Marxist theorist and revolutionary, one of the most powerful people in the world, a leader in a country devoted to eliminating religion completely. The country: Russia. The politician: Lev Davidovitch Bronstein, otherwise known as Leo Trotsky, confidant of Lenin and creator of the Russian Red Army.

Yitz Greenbaum and Leon Trotsky, two brilliant, rebellious Jews, each convinced he had discovered the real solution to the Jewish problem–the abandonment of Torah–in exchange for a utopian political system.

Now they and their movements have crumbled in the dust, while the Torah they tried to eradicate is not only relevant and flourishing, but has become the province of their very own [grand]children.

“Mah gadlu masecha Hashem –How great are Your works, Hashem.”

pp. 40-41

The Temptation of the Bekeshe

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How do American black-hat “Lithuanian”-style haredim — such as myself, and especially the BTs among us — answer the implied philosophical challenge from the hasidim?

One of the main topics on Jewish blogs concerned at all with religion is the question of “haredism” — a term with very different meanings in Flatbush and in Bnei Brak, but it will do for now — versus “modern orthodox” — also tremendously plastic but, again, let us use what we have. In any event, in the context of baalei teshuva, (talk about troubling terminology!) the question often arises: Why is “haredi” kiruv so dominant? Why can’t there be more kiruv oriented to bringing people to Torah and mitzvos, yes, but without the subcultural accoutrement of the black-hat way of life?

Now because many of those asking the questions are not themselves committed to Torah and mitzvos, I find it a rather disingenuous inquiry, at least from them. But it is not, per se, an unreasonable question. Yet it has been hashed and rehashed in the Jewish blogosphere, and I have no intention of opening yet another thread on it here, but rather to suggest it as a context for the following question: Why aren’t we all hasidim? I think that question is a legitimate one.

I have several answers to the question of why BTs such as myself end up (some faster, some slower) on the “right” of the orthodox spectrum. One of them is that having grown up on a steady and tasteless diet of compromise, we are suspicious of half measures once we decide to make, and understanding the meaning of making, a commitment to being an observant Jew. We also believe that to the extent that modern orthodoxy stands for more engagement with the non-Jewish world, we acknowledge the high likelihood of slippage in our own commitments, considering our previous modes of life. I am asking commenters here not to reopen these issues in the thread that may develop here — my point is a different one, namely: If we claim to eschew compromise, where do we draw the line? Or is the “line’ itself illusory, and are we indeed engaged in perhaps exactly what critics accuse us of — a thoughtless thrust to the right, to the rejection of the old self, to the comfort of the chumra (strict practice) without regard to the merits?

Considering this question, I reflected on what the “Lithuanian” style does for American haredi BTs: It provides us with something of an out. One reason, as petty as it seems, is that the American version of “litvish” or “yeshivish” orthodoxy” tolerates clean-shaven faces. True, this toleration is marginal at best. We beardless ones may not be depicted as Abbas or Tattys in Artscroll or other haredi publications (zeydies are allowed to be clean shaven; still, a R’Moshe-Sherer-style moustache is preferred to complete whiskerlessness). But you will see us getting awards at yeshiva dinners and acting as mohels and presidents of haredi shuls. Combine this assimilation-friendly outcome, now, with the Lithuanian mode of dress — a dark suit and a white shirt — and guess what: Except in those offices where adult dress has been outlawed, an orthodox yeshiva man looks pretty much like a lawyer or an accountant (abstracting from the yarmulke issue, which we will not even touch here), which he is, after all, fairly likely to be. The acceptability of sheitels among haredim in the US extends this flexibility to women as well.

I don’t mean to rewrite my earlier post or the ensuing discussion, on “dress codes” for Jews. Rather, my point is this: Non-hasidic, clean-shaven haredi men and custom-sheitel wearing women can move through the world without that harsh separation from it that hasidim (most of them — and the issue of how Lubavitchers dice and slice these issues is also too complex for this post), with their beards, peyos and usually long coats, effect. Given that the haredi BT has gone from complete assimilation to a philosophical commitment to a distinctly Jewish manner of appearance and a level of separation from the gentile culture, how exactly does he rationalize this rollback of separation, given that to some extent it appears (appears — I am open to suggestion that it is not) to be an accident of history?

This is not merely a matter of clothes, of course, though as I did argue before, the way we present ourselves to the world is always a choice fraught with meaning. I believe that many non-hasidic haredim feel, in their hearts of hearts, that — notwithstanding the difference between what we call hasidim today and the idealized hasidus of the time of the Baal Shem Tov — today’s hasidim demonstrate an undeniably high level of commitment to Yiddishkeit that not all of us can claim we would be prepared to make. Some hasidim say, indeed, they measure the mantel (cover) to the sefer Torah, while others seek to cut down the scroll to their own size Well, we can debate whether their way of life and appearance are more or less relevant today as a matter of service to Hashem than they were in Eastern Europe 250 years ago. But the relative lack of compromise with the host culture and the level of faith in Hashem over one’s life that the hasidic way of life implies cannot be denied. I cannot myself deny that I often feel an implicit rebuke when I am in the presence of hasidim: Why aren’t I at least trying to be “that frum”?

There are two possible answers, each supplied by a different though related haredi philosophy, and neither one entirely satisfactory. One is from the classic Lithuanian — and here I will use the term “misnagdic” — perspective: There’s nothing more orthodox, young man, about hasidim. Truly frum Litvaks, facial hair aside, are virtually indistinguishable from hasidim in religious practice (look at Lakewood), and frankly the outside world can’t tell the difference between us, notwithstanding our short suit coats. A black hat is a black hat, and the hasidim, far from being a “purer” or “truer” form of orthodox Judaism, are merely focused on, some would insist they are even obsessed with, a peculiar mode of lifestyle. It is one that obtained in a certain time and place and which by and large is, for its focus on a central leader in the person of the rebbe or admor, would in the view of a true Misnagid a cop-out, not an improvement, in terms of an individual’s personal obligation to labor on his own in finding the path to service of Hashem.

Another answer comes from Rav Hirsch, whom we discussed here last week. It starts with the Lithuanian answer but takes it a step further: The cultural disengagement by hasidim, which is so extreme that most of them have a great deal of difficulty according what we believe is proper respect to our gentile neighbors as men made in God’s image, is worse than the mere stunting of growth or misguidedness emphasized by the Litvak. It is not at all what Hashem wants from us — as much as we admire the d’veykus, the commitment, the pride, it is nonetheless represents a positive failure to engage the world that God has put us into. It is a guarantee of a permanent level of unsophistication about worldly affairs as well as useful wisdom, and a lifestyle that has many elements that far from raising our status in the eyes of the world, does the opposite.

Two good answers. There are more; it is a mistake to idealize the hasidic way of life. A clean, ebony bekeshe (frock), curly peyos and a shtreimel make a stunning fashion statement, but you still have to wash neigel vasser in the morning.

And yet I am not a Lithuanian, save by intellectual bent; I am a scion, two generations removed, of Gerrer hasidim. And I cannot escape that silent, silken black rebuke.

Integrating Environmentalism and Torah

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Recently, Rabbi Shmuel Simenowitz, director of Project Ya’aleh V’Yavo, (PYVY) was invited by Robert Gough, Esq., secretary of the Intertribal Council on Utility Policy (COUP) and a director of NativeWind.org, a city/tribal partnership towards climate protection and energy independence to participate in the Tribal Lands Climate Conference jointly hosted by the Cocopah Nation and the National Wildlife Federation. The conference was held on the Cocopah reservation on the outskirts of Yuma, AZ. Rabbi Simenowitzs’ participation was made possible through a generous grant provided by the Simon Grinspoon Memorial Fund of the Jewish Endowment Foundation of Western Massachusetts.

“I heard him speak at the Vermont Law School as part of an interfaith panel on faith-based solutions to environmental issues.” said Gough “He just knocked me out with his energy and creativity. But what really amazed me was his ability to seamlessly weave disparate elements of his life – music, law, his tradition, farming, working with kids – into this brilliant tapestry. Also, as a fellow attorney, I respect his ability to transcend the “zero sum gain – I win-you lose” headspace and his relentless pursuit of “win-win” solutions to the thorniest problems.

In his opening remarks, Simenowitz pointed out that in his culture there were no coincidences. He noted that it was no coincidence that the conference was being held near Yuma which he explained meant “Judgment day” in his sacred tongue. Similarly, he noted that it was likewise no coincidence that a conference discussing global warming was held on December 5, the one day a year when the lunar calendar is overlooked in favor of the solar calendar and Jews in the diaspora begin saying the prayer for seasonal rains. He explained that his culture told the story of the man drilling a hole under his seat in a crowded boat. The other passengers asked him what he was doing. He replied “don’t worry – it’s just under my seat”. The crowd was quick to appreciate the implications.

Simenowitz said he was amazed at the similarity between the teachings of the Native American tribal elders and much of the Torah wisdom. “They appreciate the sacredness that permeates the natural world and the importance of our stewardship at this critical juncture.” He noted the two cultures shared a veneration of the wisdom of their respective elders and that both had been persecuted and had suffered immensely.

Most of the speakers began their presentations with greetings in their native languages. Rabbi Simenowitz greeted the crowd with a hearty “shalom” which was met with a rousing “shalom” from the 135 attendees.

At one of the breakaway sessions which Simenowitz led with Dr. Steven Smiley, a noted weather scientist and Vernon Masayesva, a Hopi tribal elder, it was suggested that the Native Americans employ a “new paradigm” in addressing climate change issues confronting them. Simenowitz shared the story about a rabbi in Krakow who had a recurring dream that there was a treasure buried underneath a bridge in Prague. Unable to rest, he traveled to Prague only to find the bridge guarded closely by a watchman. After spotting him several times, the watchman finally confronted him and demanded to know what he was up to. The rabbi told him of his dreams. The watchman laughed and told him that he too had had a recurring dream that there was a treasure buried beneath the stove in the house of a rabbi in Krakow. The rabbi returned home only to find the treasure in his own kitchen. Simenowitz went on to explain that we often seek “new paradigms” when in fact the answers are frequently right under our nose buried in our own rich cultures and traditions.

“Unfortunately, native Americans are getting hammered from both sides” said Simenowitz. “They are inextricably linked to the land. Once the salmon die off, so do the salmon people. Once the bear are gone, so are the bear people”. Moreover, they are fighting to survive internal challenges – from crippling poverty, from disease, from rampant alcoholism and a loss of tribal traditions which are not being transmitted to the next generation.” He found the parallels to Judaism’s fight for survival sobering, to say the least.

One of the more moving moments of the trip came when one of the tribal elders presented Simenowitz with a vial of what he called “living waters” from the pristine Navajo aquifer which his tribe safeguards. The aquifer is reputed to be one of the purest water sources in the world. The gift was especially meaningful to Simenowitz who has long been a vocal advocate of what he calls “halachic water conservation”. In 2005 he received a grant from the Simon Grinspoon Memorial Fund of the Jewish Endowment Foundation of Western Massachusetts to present a paper entitled “Water Conservation and Halacha – An Unorthodox Approach” at the COEJL Conference in Washington, D.C. Simenowitz explained that the sacred waters – which he noted were similarly designated in his culture as “mayim chayim – the living waters” safeguarded by the Native Americans, course through the veins of the earth and ascend through the maple trees as sap. Simenowitz duly presented him with a bottle of maple syrup that he had made.

Similarly, at the end of a slide presentation showing the work done by native American youngsters with groups such as Alaskan Youth for Environmental Action (AYEA), several who attended and spoke at the conference, one of the speakers said he’d like to leave the slide up for a while because he got such a kick seeing his young people engaged in preserving the environment and preserving native American culture. Simenowitz noted with a smile that no one had a monopoly on “nachas”.

There were some light moments at the conference as well. When asked on the registration form for his tribal affiliation, Simenowitz penciled in “10 lost tribes – not sure which one”. Similarly, following his presentation, Simenowitz was asked to pose for a photo with Colin Soto, Cocopah tribal elder. Goodnaturedly, Soto recalled when he used to ask for fifty cents to have his photo taken. Simenowitz replied that in these parts a rabbi should get at least a dollar!

Simenowitz noted that the trip broadened his horizons as to the pervasive nature of the climate change threat and how the maples he stewards in Vermont can serve as an antidote, each drinking up nearly 450 pounds per year of carbon dioxide! He is broadening the scope of his educational materials to reflect the maple’s critical role in carbon sequestration.

Gough and Simenowitz are already planning a series of straw bale building workshops involving native American youth and Jewish teens. “The Talmud teaches us an important lesson about tzedaka” said Simenowitz recently. “Aniyei ircha kodmim” – the people of your own village get priority. This is about helping those in our vast, yet intimately interconnected, global village.

On Having Married Off Our First FFB Child

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Marrying off our daughter was a thrilling experience but one that, as a BT, was not without its challenging moments. But before addressing the challenges, I would like to mention something very positive: my mechutanim (parents of the boy), very established FFBs, were dafka looking for the daughter of a BT couple for their son. This boy, full of talent, middos, and “out of the box” intelligence (OK, I’m biased), was looking for a girl serious about her yiddishkeit, but did not want to be part of a judgmental, restrictive sort of family. So when looking for prospective shidduchim, his parents sought out those in the BT world. Here, in our world, as the shadchan said, they believed they would find the “real deal”: real Torah without the shtick. I take this as a personal compliment, but it is also a compliment to our entire BT community. I mention this in case anyone was worried that all children of BTs will necessarily face an uphill battle in the parsha of shidduchim. You never know. What you think is a liability may turn out to be an asset.

But being a BT “in the parsha” did carry with it a different challenge: mainly the resurrection of all of my parents negative feelings about orthodoxy. They had a laundry list of objections to this marriage and, frankly, from their point of view, I can’t blame them: she was too young to get married (almost 19); she hadn’t been to college yet (she is going now, but it wasn’t our first priority); why do they have to live in Israel (they can’t appreciate the kedushah, only the bombs); they knew each other such a short time (frum shidduch dating); she seemed too subservient to him (she let him take the lead, like a Bais Yaakov girl naturally does). My parents were outraged that he came from such a large family (let’s just say more than 10 children) and feared that she would spend the rest of her life pregnant and washing baby bottles, never “fulfilling her potential.” Her chassan had no “degree” of any sort, and my parents believe that knowing gemora will not earn them a living. “Rabbis are a dime a dozen in Israel!” they accurately screamed. Although they had always been generous with us, they resented the idea of our (even partially) supporting them, stating that if they can’t support themselves or he’s not professionally directed, they shouldn’t get married (they couldn’t appreciate the teaching opportunities he had with his connections).

Basically, they listed all the differences between the secular and the (more right-wing) frum points of view about dating and marriage, albeit in a loud and emotionally charged way. Why did I feel a sense of déjà vu? Hadn’t I gone through all this before, perhaps around 20 years ago?!

The hardest part for me about this parsha, therefore, was reliving all the fights I thought were behind us. Now I am more mature, of course, so I restrained myself much, much more, and I was not nearly as shaken in my beliefs and determination to do what I thought best as when I was young. However, the grief of the ongoing acrimony with my parents accompanied the joy, and it significantly marred what “should” have been a purely joyous time. It also took me by surprise that we couldn’t get through this easily, that my parents hadn’t yet given up and mellowed at all about my “orthodox lifestyle.”

Although some parents do come around, not all do; some BTs experience a wonderful rapprochement with their parents, but others, like myself, have to slog along for over 20 years continuing to fight the good fight. With love, of course, but with heartache.

Yahrtzeit of Rabbi Samson Rafael Hirsch

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Remembering the first Jewish warrior for tradition in the modern era.

There is no such thing as an Orthodox Jew.

Or, more accurately, the term “Orthodox” has no basis in Jewish tradition. The appellation was coined by the earliest Jewish reformers in 17th Century Germany to differentiate between themselves and the Torah establishment. In the minds of these newly “enlightened” Jews, the practices of traditional Judaism were, like the Jewish ghettos of Europe, anachronisms with no purpose than to shackle the modern Jewish world in a self-imposed Dark Age.

In those intoxicating times when Jews found themselves with unprecedented freedoms and opportunities, in the midst of their zeal to find acceptance among their cosmopolitan gentile neighbors, German Jews recoiled from the antiquated style of Jewish dress and Jewish speech, from the rejection of secular studies common in formal Jewish education, and from the Torah observance of those who perpetuated the stereotype of the “wandering Jew.” Thousands upon thousands turned away from what they denounced as “Orthodoxy” to embrace the modern Jewish reformation which, they believed, would lead them into an era of enlightenment.

Seduced by the attraction of modernity, observant Jews throughout all of Germany cut off their side locks and cast off their religiosity. Devout but poorly educated parents mourned over children who found little reason not to forsake the archaic customs and rituals of their fathers for the wealth of opportunity offered by the modern world.

In neighboring Bohemia-Moravia, however, Rabbi Samson Rafael Hirsch took notice and could not sit idle. A member of Parliament as well as a rabbinic leader, Rabbi Hirsch left his secure position to accept the post as rabbi in the undistinguished community of Frankfort-am-Main. There he would build his bulwark against the tides of change.

CRISIS OF FAITH
In 1729, almost 80 years before Rabbi Hirsch was born, a brilliant thinker by the name of Moses Mendelssohn had introduced a new approach to Judaism to the Jews of Germany. Believing that he had identified the cause of anti-Semitism as the visible “otherness” of Jews living in gentile society, Mendelssohn’s solution adjured each of his brethren to live as “a cosmopolitan man in the street and a Jew in your home.”

With his extraordinary intellect and the convictions of his own philosophy, Mendelssohn managed this ideological tightrope walk in a way that his followers could not. Four of his six children abandoned Torah observance completely, and within two generations the reformers who looked to him as the father of their movement had forsaken the most cherished and time-honored precepts of Jewish practice.

By the time Rabbi Hirsch arrived on the scene, traditional Judaism was in full retreat. Recognizing the gravity of the crisis, Rabbi Hirsch crafted a response that at once strengthened the traditional community while drawing the teeth of those who sought to dismiss tradition as irrelevant and headed for extinction.

Observant Judaism’s detractors argued that traditional Jewish dress was a throwback to the dark ages, that the pidgin tongue of Yiddish was a gutter language unfit for the modern world, that the traditional community knew nothing beyond their Talmudic tomes and, even worse, wanted nothing to do with the secular world. To the Jews caught up in the excitement of a new age, their indictment effectively equated Torah observance with social leprosy.

FIGHTING FIRE WITH FIRE
Rabbi Hirsch met their objections head on. Within his community in Frankfort, he instructed his congregation to dress in the modern style, to learn and speak High German, to attend university, and to acquire professional positions in the heart of German society. He instructed his community to take on the outer trappings of the secular world, while creating a K-12 dual-curriculum educational system that built a rock-solid foundation in Torah study while providing the tools to succeed in the secular world.

Applying and adapting the philosophy of the Talmudic sage Rabbi Yishmoel, Rabbi Hirsch described his approach as Torah im derech eretz, “Torah study and observance together with secular culture.” In Rabbi Hirsch’s vision, professionalism, secular education, and a familiarity with ways of the world pose no threat to the devout and committed Jew, so long as Torah law and Torah philosophy remain both the compass that points his way in the world and the anchor that prevents him from being carried away by the tides of intellectual fad and fashion.

In 1836, when he was 28 years old, Rabbi Hirsch published The Nineteen Letters of Ben Uziel, a dialogue between an “enlightened” Jew and his traditional childhood friend. Writing anonymously, so that the personality of the author would not interfere with the book’s message, Rabbi Hirsch articulated the fundamentals of Jewish belief powerfully and concisely. His discourse forced many attracted to reform to look with new respect upon the wisdom of tradition.

Indeed, how could one not respond to words both reasoned and impassioned, to observations founded upon both human logic and the empirical evidence of history, to the inspiration of the divine spirit calling out from the depth of the human heart: “Not to see G-d, but to see the earth and earthly conditions, man and human conditions, from G-d’s pinnacle is the loftiest height that can be reached by human minds here on earth, and that is the one goal toward which all men should strive.”

Over the course of his life, Rabbi Hirsch produced many volumes in which he developed his ideas into some of the most profoundly thoughtful writings in contemporary Jewish literature. His commentary on the Torah is a modern classic, and his insights into the meaning and understanding of the commandments in Horeb are illuminating for laymen and scholars alike. “Dear friend,” writes Rabbi Hirsch, “forget what you know about Judaism, listen as if you had never heard about it — and not only will you be reconciled to the Law, but you will embrace it lovingly and will allow your whole life to become a manifestation of it.”

In our world today, where politics and religion are driving a polarizing wedge ever deeper into society, it’s hard to imagine a body of literature more relevant than the writings of Rabbi Hirsch. Unwilling either to negate the relevance of the secular world or to compromise the values that have enabled the Jews to survive two thousand years of exile, Rabbi Hirsch elucidates a vibrant synthesis of the body and the soul, of engaging the physical world in pursuit of spiritual goals.

Rabbi Hirsch passed away on the 27th day of the month of Teves in the year 1888. Through the impact of his leadership and his writings, however, he remains very much alive today.

Originally published at the Jewish World Review.

How was your Relationship with Your Parents in the Beginning

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A journalist is writing an article on relationships between fairly new observant individuals and their parents. The writer is looking to conduct fairly quick interviews with people who are going through, or have recently gone through, the initial phase of becoming observant. Please email us if you are willing to help with a short interview and we will pass your information on to the writer.

While we’re on the subject, how was your relationship with your parents when you first started becoming observant?
Was it strained because you made mistakes?
How understanding were your parents?
What would you definitely do differently?
Where do you think you did a good job of maintaining good relationships?

Share your experiences by dripping a note in the comments.

Financial Realities II: The Unwritten Contract

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By “Sam Smith”

In retrospect, I’m not surprised that my first article on “Financial Realities in the Frum World” received such an overwhelming response (currently, 240 responses, plus a direct-offshoot article, “Suggestions to Address the Tuition Crisis” of 61 responses). I knew I was touching a raw nerve, because this topic has touched a raw nerve in me.

In trying to understand the reason for the raw nerve I’ve wavered between righteous indignation and guilt. I am outraged at some of the uncompromising positions the whole tuition business corners us into – as individual tuition-payers and as a community — while at the same time feeling guilty that I am outraged by it. The yeshivos are only trying to collect money for teaching our kids Torah, and paying less-than-ideal salaries to usually dedicated teachers. That’s why I feel guilty, because I love Torah, I love the ideals, I love the idealists in our midst. But I hate… I hate…

What?

I had been having a hard time trying to put my finger on exactly what I hate. What do I hate about this situation and why do I hate it and do I have a right to hate it? Then, the other night, I came upon the answer as I was pondering a contract one of my children’s yeshivos had sent me and asked me to sign. And that answer is the “unwritten contract.”

The Unwritten Contract

When I became a baal teshuva I had certain expectations, whether I was conscious of them or not. These expectations were based on the ideals I was attracted to, and the assumption that if I followed through on the ideals, then the community I was becoming part of would follow through on the ideals too. This, in effect, became an “Unwritten Contract” — in my mind at least. The part I hate, or that at least incenses me, is the perception that the community – or, in this case at least, one specific yeshiva – is not following through on its part.

Let me explain myself.

My side of the “contract” was that if I did my best to raise my kids in Torah and be responsible about making hishtadlus in the world (i.e. doing my best to earn a living), while at the same time living as frugally as I could, then the institutions representing Torah would be understanding. That means they would accept my kids and do their best to teach them even if I simply did not have the money to pay full or partial or even any tuition (if I truly did not have the money).

What I didn’t expect, but what I have experienced, from one institution in particular, is this: We will not accept your child in the doors in the first place if you do not sign a contract to pay what we say you need to pay. We expect you to be grateful that we are giving you a reduction in our outlandishly high tuition and other fees. And thou shalt feel grateful even if that reduction is still more than you can afford, even if it causes you to go into serious debt. We will even send you a letter threatening to expel your kids, if you fall behind or become unable to pay what we said you need to pay.

Now, in all fairness, this describes only one of the yeshivos I send my kids to (two kids to the same institution). Others want their pound of flesh, too, but are not going about it in the same aggressive, and, frankly, highly un-Torah-like (IMO) way. It is quite enough to ruin one’s rosy state of mind. Practically speaking, I can’t switch my kids out of this institution now because they are good students, have friends and are happy. We managed to pay partial tuition in years past by going into outrageous credit card debt, which is now an unacceptable and untenable alternative.

In any event, the brutal truth is that, especially now that I have older kids, I am simply overwhelmed by all the expenses, unable to carry all my accumulated debt, and even the partial tuitions I am paying have pushed me to and over the edge of financial ruin. There is no retirement plan in my life, no hidden stocks, no wealthy parents, in-laws or uncles ready to leave me their fortune and rescue me.

After many years and many tuitions I simply didn’t make it financially, at least in contemporary, North American Orthodox-community terms. I didn’t become a doctor or lawyer or businessman. I didn’t marry into wealth.

In my darkest moments, it’s all a great communal hypocrisy. Some people simply can’t pay… even a portion of the partial tuition. Yet some yeshivos, while teaching kids wonderful, beautiful ideals like living austerely for Torah as did the Chofetz Chaim (including large pictures throughout the halls), make their parents feel like shmattas for not earning more than $100-150,000!

This is my “righteous indignation” side.

But then the guilt kicks in: They are only trying to keep the lights on, pay their rabbeim and teachers, overcome their own financial deficits, etc.

I don’t want to be fighting them, to feel that they are the “enemy.” But that’s the corner this situation paints me – and them – into. Parents and yeshivos become adversaries, rather than advocates. It’s a crime. And the toll – the spiritual toll: on parents, children and generations — is incalculable. There has to be a different way of doing this.

What is the Goal of a BT?

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Should a BT just try to fit in with the rest of the frum velt? Which branch of the frum velt? What does it take to fit in?

When I was dating, a student in the yeshiva I was in decided that he wanted me to date his sister. I spoke to the boy’s mother about it and she said that she didn’t think a baal teshuva (myself) should date an FFB.
“Why?”
“Well, they’re just different.”
“What makes a baal teshuva different?”
“They’re more sincere.”

I still don’t understand.

In a different yeshiva I was in, an FFB student mentioned that he wouldn’t date a baalas teshuva. “Did you know the shadchan doesn’t have to tell you she’s a baalas teshuva?” I asked him.
Agitated, he asked the Rav walking by, “Would you set me up with a baalas teshuva without telling me?”
To which the Rav quipped, “Only if I thought you were worthy.” And kept walking.

Well, I’m not going to get started on the whole dating scene. But the question still remains, what is the baal teshuva’s goal in life.

One guy I knew was young enough and smart enough to enter an FFB yeshiva without a problem. On a visit back to the baal teshuva yeshiva he said, “Yes, you can make it there, but you can’t compete.” I’m not sure why he wanted to “compete” or why that was important to him.

After attaining the level of learning gemara on my own I spent some time in a top notch FFB yeshiva and sat and learned with a few guys. For me, every word and line of tosafos was a struggle. They could whip through a tosafos like water off a duck’s back. I was envious… Until I realized they hadn’t the foggiest idea what tosafos was really after.

I’m not knocking Klal Yisrael.

Klal Yisrael has kedusha. Klal Yisrael has collective ruach hakodesh, and maybe even nevuah. It’s important to feel and be apart of Klal Yisrael. The inner recognition of being part of the 3300 years of tradition is vital to
the identity of a Jew. And we must feel one with the group of Jews hanging on to Torah observance and values for dear life.

A BT should want to feel comfortable with, and have appreciation for, the good things in any branch of frum Jews he/she meets. A BT should have ahavas yisrael for a Satmar chassid, a Mir yeshiva student, a pajama-yalmulke-guitar playing- funky frum vegetarian, and a frum Manhattan woman lawyer with a $4000 sheitel. With a Sefardi, a Litvach, and a Hungarian. Whoever they are and wherever they’re from.

A BT should also think long and hard about the circumstances of his/her upbringing and ponder why HaShem caused him/her to have those experiences and live that lifestyle for those years.

Nothing is an accident.

We are in 5767, in this important time in history before the coming of moshiach for a reason and a purpose. Is it just to fit in? Are we merely reincarnated neshamas whose only task is to make it back to the fold?

Or are we uniquely designed to play an important role, precisely as a BT at this stage of Jewish history?

Rabbi Weiman’s new book: A Simple Guide to Happiness: From a mystical perspective is currently available at Amazon.

Finding the Right Community – Twin Rivers NJ

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Finding the right community is important for everyone, and as, Rabbi Horowitz recently pointed out a BT especially needs a warm and accepting community. In August, Ilanit wrote a great post on her wonderful Houston community. It’s very helpful for people to know what the choices are when it comes to communities, so if you think your community is a good place for BTs (and FFBs), send us a short write up (beyondbt@gmail.com).

Here’s a post from Yisroel about Twin Rivers, NJ.

Having lived in Kew Garden Hills for many years, and been a student of R”Turk, I found that I had to move to New Jersey in order to find affordable housing. What I discovered was that by moving into a small Orthodox community you gain opportunities you never would have if you remained in Monsey, KGH, Boro Park or Passaic. Small communities, while short on shuls and a minyan at anytime, allow you to lain, daven from the amud, start shirurim, and basically grow by becoming an active member in the community, rather than just absorbing what a large community has already established.

There is much to say about this topic. I would like to make people aware of my community, Twin Rivers, NJ. We have an Eruv, Mikvah, Schools, Kosher Shopping, Shirum, and easy transportation to NYC. While 70 miles from NYC sounds far using the express buses you can be in Port Authority in 70 minutes.

We have four and three bedroom homes (town houses), with full basements. Average price for a home is in the range of $220,000 to $250,000. Twin Rivers is ideal for young couples and families.

For more information, please visit the Congregation Toras Emes website.

The Art of Reframing

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I was talking to a friend over Shabbos and he related the following story:

He went on an admissions interview with one of his children and the questions being asked were upsetting him. By the time it was over he was really angry. What kind of school was this that would have an outlook like that?

When he got home he headed for the book shelf, picked up Rabbi Pliskin’s book on “Anger” and turned to the section on reframing. After quickly reviewing it he kept repeating to himself: “They’re teaching Torah!” “They’re teaching Torah!” “They’re teaching Torah!” After a few minutes he was able to reframe the institution into it’s proper perspective. Yes, he still disagreed with some of the things they said, but he was able to appreciate the good they were doing and eliminate any anger towards them.

Rabbi Pliskin, suggests that the key to a life of joy is to master this art of “reframing” — to change our negative perception of a situation into a more optimistic outlook. There is a free audio from Rabbi Pliskin on reframing available here. Let me leave you with this description of this simple yet powerful tool from Rabbi Pliskin’s book, “Begin Again Now”:

Reframing means perceiving a situation or event differently than you did originally or differently than it is usually viewed. A person who masters the art of reframing will be the master of the emotional quality of his life. While you do not always have control over external factors, you always have the ability to reframe.

Update: My friend Joe points to this great article by Sara Yoheved Rigler which contains a great story of reframing:

I  sat down at the kitchen table and decided to work this through. My feelings of outrage were bubbling up in my heart like a volcano, but the Torah expected me to process and control my thoughts and emotions as well as my actions. I knew that the way to change emotions is to change the thoughts that I was telling myself. By a gigantic act of will, I “changed the tape.” I forced myself to remember good things about my cousin, times she had been loving to me, times she had been vulnerable.

Read the whole thing, it’s an amazing article.