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Moshe the First BT

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By Yaakov Eric Ackland

Like most BT’s, Moshe is born a stranger in a strange land. He’s born a Jew in a powerful non-Jewish culture, and though he has the love of his family, he’s from a very early age set adrift downstream in the dominant culture with his parents’ faint hope for his survival as a Jew. He even grows up bearing an Egyptian name, and although he was given a Jewish name by his parents, he never uses it, even after becoming “reaffiliated.” much later in life. And though he knows that he’s Jewish, he lives the life of a Jewish Egyptian Prince in this dominant culture. He grows up with a dual-identity, divided loyalties, and likely in his youth felt more Egyptian than Jewish. As one of the elite, approval, success, power, and comfort are his for the taking as long as he stays on track and doesn’t try to shake things up.

In the first recorded episode of his adult life Moses, at around 40 years old emerges from his palace, sees the suffering of the Israelites, and kills an Egyptian who was beating a Jew. He awakens to the fact of suffering existing outside his sheltered world, and perhaps it is the first inkling of a real bond with the Jewish people. Over the next several episodes, Moshe intervenes for justice between two Jews fighting, between two sets of strangers (his future wife and sisters-in-law to be and the sheppards who were harassing them at the well) and then (in the Midrash) he goes after the one sheep that was lost, and carries it tenderly back to the herd. Like many a secular Jew today, Moshe is upset by any form of injustice or suffering, not just amongst his own people, but for that of (apparently) all sentient beings, and more uncommonly, acts on his perceptions. And Moshe acts almost instinctively; he does the right thing, solely because it feels like the right thing to do (Interestingly, this story of Moshe going forth from his sheltered life, witnessing suffering, and then throwing off everything he knew to leave his home and experience life and suffering directly, before ultimately returning to enlighten and free his people has an Eastern parallel, in the life of Buddha.).

So Moses has lived straddling two worlds, neither of which is truly his “home.” He’s a double exile. After killing the Egyptian, and abandoning Egypt, Moses enters his third level of exile: he’s now a Jewish Egyptian Prince in an alien land: he’s lost the protection of his comfortable life, and he’s disillusioned: it seems that justice doesn’t pay in this world: he’s an outlaw with a price on his head, and he had no gratitude from the man whose life he’d saved, or the people of the man he’d saved. Despite the disillusionment though, he persists in doing what’s right, because it is right. In essence he’s dropped out of the dominant culture, as a significant number of secular Jews have long done. After his third act of justice though, by defending the women at the well, he’s offered one as his bride, and he accepts. Maybe justice is rewarded in this life, he now thinks, maybe now I can have a comfortable life. And like a typical secular Jew, he’s met a nice gentile girl, and only subsequently presumably persuades her to convert (although her conversion isn’t documented in the text.) He settles down and builds a conventionally successful life amongst strangers.

But then Moshe encounters G-d who commands him to return to Egypt and save his people, and bring them to the land where they were intended to live, to the culture they were intended to live in. And very likely, it is Moses’s keen sense of justice, and his willingness to risk his life to live his values that has qualified him for the job. And like the average secular Jew first encountering the idea of Divine commandedness, Moshe argues with Hashem, in essence saying, “Sounds great, a noble task, but not for me. You’ve got the wrong guy.” For Moshe, though concerned about justice, though caring for the oppressed and for their suffering, has thus far been motivated entirely from within to do good. He’s valued his autonomy and perhaps he’s even become enamored of his status as an outlaw and a rebel; as someone who has done things his own way, and has made a life for himself different than that of his peers. Unlike Abraham, the paradigmatic Knight of Faith who unhesitatingly was ready to sacrifice his son upon G-d’s command, Moshe hesitates and passively stalls. Humans resist even that what we wish to do, if it is demanded of us. We like to be flattered into thinking that we have a choice. Any book on modern management will confirm this. Moshe’s refusal may be couched in terms of modesty, of unfitness for the job, and our tradition states that Moshe was the humblest man who ever lived, but a little deeper psychology might reveal these further causes of resistance: fear of loss of comfort and status, loss of his self-identity, loss of autonomy, and fear of failure.

Moses protests and stalls Hashem five times before he accedes. And even after all this, he goes and asks permission from his father-in-law to leave: almost as if he were hoping his father-in-law would deny him permission. Really, if Hashem tells you to do something, do you have really need to ask permission of anyone else? Many a BT has similarly learned what he or she is supposed to do in a certain instance, argued with Hashem, argued with Rabbis, been finally convinced that it must be done, and still sought for pretexts to delay or abstain committing. During the time Moses is back in Egypt, he dickers with Hashem another three times. We can even see a parallel between the repeatedly hardened heart of Pharaoh, which despite repeated oppressive miracles keeps rebounding to that same place of resistance and rebellion and the as yet not fully submitted heart of Moses despite having spoken directly with God. This parallel may be highlighted by the similarities of Moshe’s first response to Hashem’s command, “Who am I that I should got to Pharaoh and that I should take the Children of Israel out of Egypt?” and Pharaoh’s first response to Moshe’s demand: “Who is Hashem that I should heed his voice to send out Israel?” Why the parallel? Perhaps to highlight how much Moshe is still Egyptian as well as Jewish, and can’t deny or purge himself of his past.

Just as the contemporary Jew who finally encounters Hashem, and Torah, and the idea of commandedness ultimately strives to submit (if he or she is intellectually honest) so too did Moshe. And just as it is axiomatic in Judaism that G-d never gives us a challenge we can’t meet, Moshe must have begun the process of internalizing the understanding that with Hashem’s help he cannot fail, and must have felt an exhilaration at finally having discovered the proper outlet for his passion and talent. And so he uprooted from his third level of his exile to head to his fourth level of exile: back to his “home” turf, but this time with a two-fold mission: to punish Pharaoh and to free his people, and this time his sense of justice is subordinated to Hashem’s sense of justice, and is thus tightly and properly focused.

Perhaps, just perhaps, Moshe, like many modern people who first encounter G-d’s repeated hardening of Pharaoh’s heart in the Torah and the unleashing of these awful plagues upon all of Egypt, may have felt instinctively that this was a bit over-the-top and unnecessarily ruthless, –especially as he must have had many fond memories and ties of affection to that dominant culture and to some of the people within. Under the spirit of submission to Divine commandedness though, Moshe did what was required of him. And though the mission must have seemed impossibly daunting, he succeeded in bringing forth a portion of his people out from Egypt.

And yet now he was in a fifth level of exile, and the Israelites as yet were unhabituated to the idea of commandedness; not habituated to Jewish culture; even resentful of having been pulled out of their familiar enslavement to the dominant culture. They perpetually lag at least a step or two behind Moshe; and they rebel against his leadership –and this stage lasts for an entire generation. They encounter Hashem directly, and even then, they can’t entirely subordinate their will to his; they can’t put their full trust in Him and in Moshe. Just as modern Baalei Tshuva struggle to acclimate themselves to Jewish Law -Halacha, to Orthodox cultural norms, and may even engage in periodic lapses of adherence or in rebellious behavior, and may cling to mementos, music, and memories of the culture they were raised in, so too did the Children of Israel, and yet they ultimately stayed within the fold, and had children: FFB’s who were better acclimated to the Law and to the culture, though still having some taint of their parent’s home culture, and who were prepared to fight the battles necessary to settle the promised land, so that the third and fourth generations could grow up as they were intended, in their home culture, in their homeland, as whole-hearted Jews. Moshe himself never got to see the promised land: he died in exile.

Perhaps we can take from this admittedly non-traditional analysis a greater understanding that Hashem knows what we’re going through as BTs; that He’s seen it all before. Moshe and our other ancestors went though this same struggle to subordinate themselves to Hashem and to Torah. They went through stages; took two steps forward and one back, but resolutely strove to continue to advance towards the goal. BTs, along with FFBs are still in exile, and still 90% of the Jewish people are completely immersed in the culture of Egypt (Western culture), and we ourselves will never be 100% free of it’s allure and influence, and will always feel split between cultures, fully at home nowhere, often uncomfortable, often struggling, and perhaps it will only be our grandchildren or great-grandchildren who will be completely prepared to live a comprehensive, fully immersed Jewish life, but out job is clear, if daunting –as daunting to us as Moshe’s was to him: we need simultaneously to acclimate, learn, teach, and lead: we need to learn to bow our stubborn necks and subordinate our will to Hashem, and most crucially we need to rouse our brethren from their comfortable status as slaves of Egypt. We need to have them see that the discomfort of growth, of self-transformation, and of uprooting, of being prepared to spend a lifetime in the wilderness, is the most vital thing, and it begins when we begin to submit to Divine commandedness. We needn’t however beat ourselves up, and judge ourselves harshly at our failure to be one hundred percent submitted and committed, for Hashem already knows how hard it is. If Moshe struggled and the Bnei Israel struggled, and they experienced Hashem more directly than anyone has since, then surely we, who are so far away from all that, can take some solace and sustenance from this. Moshe is our model.

More Information Please

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By Rabbi Jonathan Rosenblum

After granting us permission to reprint this article on Beyond BT, Rabbi Rosenblum wished to add the following notes:

I’m highly skeptical that ba’alei teshuva kids constitute anything like a majority. I think Kiryat Sefer is a special case. Lakewood and Gateshead have lots of drop-outs and few BTs.

My criticism of the kiruv is mostly centered on Eretz Yisrael, and not on America.

I recently had an opportunity to speak at length with someone who has a broad familiarity with most of the institutions created in Israel to deal with chareidi kids who are outside of any regular educational format. In the course of the conversation, I mentioned a recent column, in which I noted that the dropout phenomenon is even more severe in all chareidi communities than in mixed communities.

The explanation of everyone to whom I spoke, including two major talmidei chachamim, was that such communities generate a degree of social pressure that proves unbearable for many youth, especially those who have their own “issues.”

My conversation partner, however, offered a very different explanation. In his opinion, it is the higher percentage of ba’alei teshuva drawn to the all chareidi cities that explains the differential. He claimed that at least 70% of the drop-outs in one such community are children of ba’alei teshuva.

If that is true (and that remains a big “if”), then we as a community should be asking some hard questions about the conduct of all our kiruv efforts. One immediate question would be: Is it better for ba’alei teshuva to move to all chareidi enclaves or would it be better for them to either join existing communities or form their own in the places they are already living?

The challenge of many of ba’alei teshuva who move to all chareidi enclaves is twofold. First, the parents often have little familiarity with the predominantly kollel society that they are entering, and therefore find it hard to guide their children. Second, many ba’alei teshuva already have children of various ages. It is profoundly disorienting for those children to find themselves suddenly thrust into a totally different society. Even children and teenagers who come from the frumest seminaries and yeshivos in America to live in Israel often struggle to adjust to very different standards in Israel. How much more so those who just a few months ago were living in non-religious homes.

The problems of children of ba’alei teshuva also suggest that there may be something askew about our current models of kiruv: Are we overemphasizing the numbers brought in through the door while devoting relatively little effort to guiding new ba’alei teshuva once they have taken their first steps in Yiddishkeit?

A major kiruv activist told me that many ba’alei teshuva harbor bitterness to those who were mekarev them in the first place, but who do not remain available to guide them in the latter stages of the process. They feel that they were the esrog upon which the person who was mekarev them performed the mitzvah of kiruv, and that once they were safely within the fold, those who were mekarev them were off again in search of new “mitzvos.” That may be a complete misperception, but it nonetheless generates feelings of anger.

(One of the beauties of the phone chavrusah program of Ayelet HaShachar, which has grown from 2,000 to 4,000 chavrusas in the last year alone, is that it is based on ongoing one-to-one relationships that intensify over years between the volunteer and the one seeking to learn more about his or her Judaism.)

THE TRUTH IS that we have relatively little hard empirical data about the drop-out phenomenon. Most of what we know is based on anecdotal experience from which we extrapolate wildly. Each person in the field comes at it from his own vantage point. Thus those who work in the area of learning disabilities tend to see learning disabilities as the primary cause for dropping-out. A child whose problems go unaddressed and experiences school as misery may feel embittered towards the society that imposed that misery upon him, and which offers him few hopes for the future other than more of the same.

Those who work with shalom bayis problems tend to see the absence of shalom bayis as the primary cause. And no doubt among the families that they work with there are many children who are floundering in the system. As the Torah tells us, when parents do not speak with one voice, then they are more likely to produce rebellious children.

Others will tell you that the problem is poverty, or, in America, affluence. Those who deal with sexual abuse see that as a major cause.

My own guess is that virtually everyone is right — to a degree. For one thing, many of these phenomenon overlap. Both great affluence and poverty, for instance, positively correlate to different sorts of shalom bayis problems. As Chazal say, “Arguments are not found in a man’s home, except as a consequence of [a lack of] grain” (Bava Metziah 59b).

Certainly no one explanation fits every case. There are families in which every child is thriving except one — sometimes that one suffered by virtue of being in a family of such successful siblings – and others with multiple children at-risk. There are drop-outs with learning disabilities, and those who breezed through their early years in yeshiva. There are those from homes of ba’alei teshuva, and children of prominent roshei yeshiva.

In short for every anecdote, it is possible to cite an opposite one. Yet it remains crucial to get some hard data, based on high quality research, to understand the interrelationship of different factors, and which ones are most prevalent.

Devising solutions depends on knowing the causes and their relative importance. If, for instance, poverty is a major cause of alienation from the Torah world, there is not much to be done in the short-run. But if, on the other hand, learning disabilities turn out to be a major factor, much can be done: early psychometric testing in school, training avreichim and counselors how to learn with children who often have way above average intelligence but suffer from some form of disability, pharmacological interventions.

A second stage of the research, then, would involve assessment of the long-term effectiveness of different intervention strategies. Yad Eliezer has thousands of avreichim learning with boys from single-parent homes. Rabbi Yaakov Rushnevsky has created a model in a number of neighborhoods of intense after school tutoring for boys who are floundering in large classroom situations, which involves constant interaction with the cheder rebbe as well. And there are many other such programs. Evaluation can make such worthy programs even more effective and help determine which models should be emulated.

The drop-out phenomenon is but one example of a general rule: good decisions require good information. That is true of our world as well.

This article appeared in the Mishpacha on January 30 2008.

Wrestling with Negativity

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The Torah was given to a nation of baalei teshuva. Egypt is a combination of two words. maitzar / constriction and yam which has a numerical value of 50. The immorality of Egypt squeezed the Jewish nation to (but not including) the 50th level of impurity, the most dire of all levels. However, during the subsequent 50 days, the nation rose to the exalted 50th level of purity, at the giving of the Torah.

The Jewish people were fused into a nation during those 50 days in the desert. Like the nutrients ingested in a developing fetus, the power of teshuva molded their very reality. Therefore, teshuva and the power of elevation are forever an inherent part of our very makeup.

This week’s parsha immediately follows the giving of the Torah. We are given the commandment “Don’t cook the kid in its mother’s milk” / the laws of meat and milk / kashrus.

Hashem now enabled the Jewish Nation to continue the aforementioned pattern of elevation, achieved through the preparation of the giving of the Torah. They were given the opportunity to elevate the entire mundane world through the mitzvah of eating.

To illustrate, a plant receives nourishment from the minerals in the soil. It soaks up the sun’s rays. It absorbs carbon dioxide and it drinks in the rain. In turn, an animal eats the plant. When a Jew ingests this animal with the noble intention of serving Hashem through the food, he elevates the soil, sun, air, rain, plant, animal etc. In fact, the entire creation can be elevated through this holy service.

I would like to suggest this concept is evident through the after blessing al hamichya. We say “Have mercy, please, Hashem our G-d, on Israel, Your people; on Jerusalem, Your city; and on Zion, the resting place of Your glory; upon Your altar, and upon the heichal (the Holy of Holies).” Perhaps we are saying that through eating with the proper intentions, the Jewish people elevate the food spiritually to Israel, to Jerusalem, to the place of the Bait Hamikdash (the Holy Temple), to the altar and finally to the Holy of Holies. The Holy of Holies is the “shaarei shomayim”, the gateway to heaven. Therefore, through eating, the entire creation can be elevated to the greatest of all levels.

Mystically, all negativity in the world stems from one of three negative shells (klipah). It is explained that these shells are so tightly tied to negativity that they can never be elevated. For example, a non-kosher piece of pig can never become kosher. It is forever forbidden and negative.

A person’s body mass is a consequence of everything that one has consumed. Throughout the duration of one’s life, food’s nutrients are ingested and become a part of his very being. Hence the expression, “You are what you eat”. The apparent tragedy is that if a person were to consume pig, he would become one with it in essence.

“Nothing stands in the way of teshuva.” Therefore, apparently for this sin as well one can achieve repentance.

The Tanya explains, however, even with teshuva the problem can still remain. The pig is this individual’s very body mass. Like broken glass, the damage is real in the world and can never be entirely rectified. He is forever one with this negative reality?!

There is one exception. When a person does an intense teshuva of ahava rabba / through a great love, the impossible is achieved. When the very distance created through the performance of the sin invokes a deep desire to return to Hashem, these negative shells that are apparently forever tied to the negativity, are elevated.

“In the place a baal teshuva stands a perfect tzaddik is unable to stand.” The definition of a tzaddik is one that has never sinned. The tzaddik can not accomplish this most wonderful elevation. He has never consumed pig and therefore he can never elevate it. (Of course this is only after the fact. One is never allowed to sin in order to repent and elevate in the future. We are talking here only about the opportunity to elevate the negativity once the sin has already been committed).

A ba’al teshuva has wrestled with negativity. The distinguished status of a baal teshuvah is the unique quality to encompass and elevate the darkest evil in the world. He/she has the ability beyond the tzaddik to take all negative experiences and not only rise above them, but elevate them in the service of Hashem.

Good Shabbos
Rabbi Moshe Zionce

Rabbi Moshe’s weekly lectures can be accessed at www.torahmedia.com

Why People Leave Torah Observance

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Here are some different thoughts in the comments from this recent thread

Ora:

1) It is easier to be secular than to be frum.

2) The values of outside society tend to contradict a lot of things found in Torah. Many Jews I know who became less religious/irreligious had problems with the prohibition on intermarriage, the distinctions between Jew and non-Jew in halacha, the different roles for men and women, the prohibition on gay relationships, etc. It can be hard raising kids as American Jews or Israeli Jews (for example) when Americans and Israelis tend to see Jewish law as backwards, restrictive, and even homophobic and racist.

3) General society tends not to be religious, and tends even to have negative views of religion and certainly negative views of a religion that requires adherents to eat, dress, and pray in a certain way. It can be hard to be religious when there’s a tendency around you to see religion as “the opiate of the masses” or some similar insulting thing.

Ron:

I don’t think anything is more devastating to an idealistic, sensitive person — and sorry, but absolutely everyone who reads this blog, and certainly everyone who contributes to it, is in this category, whether they want to admit it or not! — than encountering people and institutions (which are just collections of people) who fail to live up to the ideals of Judaism insofar as how they treat others.

I believe each and every departure from “the derech” has this at its heart.

Everyone makes his own decisions in life. Everyone is responsible for his own soul, even if other Jews are “guarantors.” There’s plenty of rationalization in the air around all of us. And as has been said here many times and in many forms, it does not follow logically that Judaism (much less Hashem) should be judged by individual Jews and their actions.

But I believe at the heart of every social damnation, every purported halachic breaking point, every demand for the application of non-spiritual paradigms (e.g., science) to spiritual questions by those who say they can’t or won’t do it any more, is a series of inexcusable, unforgivable and callous actions or omissions by one or more orthodox Jews.

It could be in the old country. It could be in a yeshiva or seminary. It could be in the workplace, or a bus stop, or even online. But reading between the lines of the many, many Jews whose hearts now spill out their pixelated pain, it seems that the personal, spiritual roshem (mark, impression) of a Jew’s actions in this world can be at once the single most inspiring, or the single most devastating, phenomenon any other Jew can encounter.

And I really don’t know, in terms of the negative part of that equation, what we can do about that, except pile as much onto the positive part as we possibly can, and have faith in Hashem and ask for His guidance for all His people.

Steve:

IMO, the kids at risk phenomenon will not abate unless we work on the three main factors outlined by Farak Margolese-dysfunctional families, schools that avoid or discourage inquiry into hashkafic questions and communities across the hashkafic spectrum that unfortunately embrace social conformity as opposed to genuine growth in Avodas HaShem.

Learn Torah for a Refuah Shelaimah for Rabbi Noah Weinberg

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Rabbi Noah Weinberg, the founder of Aish HaTorah was recently diagnosed with a serious illness. This article on Aish.Com suggests:

This is an opportunity to galvanize everyone who has benefited from the work of Aish HaTorah in prayer and spiritual action for the sake of Rabbi Weinberg’s recovery.

Here’s what you can do:

First, pray for the complete recovery of Yisrael Noach ben Hinda.

Beyond this, each of us can show the Almighty that we want and need Rabbi Weinberg’s continued guidance by taking one of his core teachings and committing yourself to grow in that area. Every physical action in this world is responded to in kind by the Almighty. Therefore the collective spiritual development will add to the merit of Rabbi Weinberg, and impact the Heavenly scales in his favor.

Here are some of the fundamental principles of Rabbi Weinberg’s teachings that have inspired so many people. Pick an area in which to grow. Whether you work on changing something small or large, every mitzvah performed makes a difference. The key is to make a genuine commitment to change for the better, on behalf of the recovery of Yisrael Noach ben Hinda.

Here are some of the fundamental principles of Rabbi Weinberg’s teachings that have inspired so many people. Pick an area in which to grow. Whether you work on changing something small or large, every mitzvah performed makes a difference. The key is to make a genuine commitment to change for the better, on behalf of the recovery of Yisrael Noach ben Hinda.

1. Focus on your priorities in life.

2. Increase your learning of Torah.

3. Love the Jewish people; fight for the Jewish people.

4. Life is gorgeous; live with joy.

Rabbi Weinberg helped me focus on the importance of the Six Constant Mitzvos. Here is Rabbi Weinberg’s Torah on the subject.

1 – Know There is a God

2 – Don’t Believe In Any Other Power

3 – God is One

4 – Love God

5 – Fear God

6 – Don’t Be Misled By Your Heart and Eyes

Please learn for his sake and yours.

Are More Jews Ceasing to Be Observant than Starting?

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Let me state at the outset, I have not taken a survey. But lately there seem to be more and more books appearing on the shelves hinting at the enormity of the problem, sort of like the tip of the iceberg, to use an overworked cliché. The one that springs to mind is “Off the Derech,” by Faranak Margolese, but there are several others. Certainly, as the frum wife of a non-observant husband, I’ve noticed that there are many more books on the topic of going off the derech than there are for “mixed” Jewish couples like us.

As a former single mother, I’d venture a guess that one large slice of the off-the-derech population has got to be single women (who may or may not be moms) in my Baby Boomer age group who either cannot find a husband because of the unfavorable demographics, or don’t want to be married again because of bad experiences in a former marriage. (For just one example of a single woman who has been looking and looking, and who mentions the possibility of women in that situation going off the derech, see Season of Isolation.) With no “representation” in shul, a single woman is more likely to drop off the radar than any other segment of the population; I concentrate on this because I have been there, although I’m sure other segments have their issues (and I would like to hear from them in response to this article).

There is no doubt, observance is a hard road. I have no firsthand knowledge of what it is like to be FFB and go off the derech, because I am a second-time BT. I went off the derech once, then came back. So I can only speak for BTs who have gone off. If they are still off, then they probably don’t have the benefit of a supportive community like the one I have; and/or, they don’t have the benefits of being married, however atypical that is in my own case.

There is a norm in Judaism. It is the traditional family – husband, wife, and children. To the extent that an individual’s life differs from that norm, I believe that is the potential weak link in their connection to Jewish life. To differ from that norm, I believe, has as much potential for isolating the person as a physical handicap. Although B”H I have no firsthand knowledge of what it is to be physically handicapped, I can offer a snapshot anecdote: As a single mother, I was once asked if I wanted to be introduced to a man with one foot. Evidently the “handicaps” in each of us were deemed equivalent.

I recall a long time ago reading a book by a former BT who had gone back to his non-observant life; the two catalysts for his giving up his observant lifestyle seemed to be his appetite for non-kosher foods, and his attachment to a former non-Jewish girlfriend. There is no doubt that each of us has his or her “pull” to the past. And when the going gets tough, sometimes the less-tough get going…off the derech.

When I was becoming observant the first time, I read Herman Wouk’s lovely book “This Is My G-d,” and one thought this gifted writer used has stuck in my mind – that with all the restrictions of an observant life, it is a wonder there are any Orthodox people left. Certainly, when I look at a book on Judaism published in 1914 that is in my small collection of old books, all indications seemed at that time to be that Orthodoxy would disappear. Yet, as a river flowing uphill, it has come back and flourished.

But in our own BT world, it is easy to overlook the people who are leaving Orthodoxy. Maybe not enough Orthodox people are involved with kiruv, or not involved enough; that is a topic for another article. Or maybe we just want to shut our eyes to the problem, or deny that it even is a problem at all. Some of us are so starry-eyed at our own return, that we cannot comprehend that anyone would want to leave.

So why are people leaving? Is it the lifestyle restrictions? Is it the temptations of the larger society, beckoning that the “good life” means eating and dressing and engaging in everyday activities just like the Gentiles do? Is it singleness and devastating demographics?

I think that for each person, it is a different reason. Each individual has his or her own personal struggles, and some do not succeed in overcoming them. Some leave and then come back, as I did. I have had several rabbis quote to me the Possuk, “The Tzaddik falls seven times and gets up.” At any given point, we have no way of knowing what the future of an off-the-derech person will be.

But we can reach out, we can make a difference in the life of just one Jew, and then perhaps we will smooth their way back to Judaism. Who knows who Hashem’s Shaliach will be in the life of any Jew? We can only try to do our part, individually and as part of the communities to which we belong.

Originally published here on January 30, 2008

Dealing with Marital Issues Arising from Differing Observance Levels

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A Beyond BT contributor was contacted by email from a woman in the NYC area who is having major marital issues that have arisen due to conflicts around the decision to be observant, or not, and to what degree. she asked if anyone could recommend an Orthodox Rabbi or marital counselor in the NYC area who has experience with marital conflict arising from religious differences, or differing desires for observance?

If you know of a good Orthodox Rabbi or marital counselor with experience pn this area, please leave the name in the comments or email us at beyondbt@gmail.com.

We’ve had a number of posts about this topic in the Shalom Bayis category.

If anybody has insights into this issue, please share them in the comments.

Davening-The User’s Manual for the Siddur

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Mordechai Kramer wrote a 16 page booklet which explains the basic structure and use of the siddur. It includes charts and simple explanations of how the prayer service (Shacharit, Mincha, Mariv, Shabbos and Rosh Chodesh ) is performed in shul. It is a virtual life savor for the BT. Rabbi Berel Wein has commented that it is excellent.

PREFACE

It can be happily said that much has been written about Jewish Liturgy. Commentaries concerning the depth and meaning of the Jewish Prayer Book are abundant and of good quality.

This booklet will undertake a different task. It will attempt to serve beginners as a Users’ Manual for the siddur (Jewish Prayer Book) in a brief and straightforward manner, so that anyone wishing to participate in synagogue prayer can do so.

The material herein is found in the traditional codified volumes of Jewish Law and ritual; however, these sources are not easily accessible to everyone. This inaccessibility, plus the language problem and the unfamiliarity many have with the siddur, makes Davenning a very formidable obstacle for most of the Jewish people. Overcoming this obstacle is the purpose of this work.

We will use as our model The Complete Artscroll Siddur, version Ashkenaz, since this is the most common siddur in use among the majority of English speaking Jewry. The Users’ Manual is compatible with every other siddur that follows the Ashkenaz version, but the page numbers would need adaptation.

PARTS OF THE SERVICE WHICH ARE MOST OBLIGATORY AND PARTS WHICH ARE LESS SO

In this booklet, the accent is on the most obligatory parts of the prayer service. “It is better to say little with devotion, than to say much without devotion.” If you feel that the burden is too heavy, it is better to wait until the service becomes more familiar before deciding to fill in what you have omitted.

Let’s start Davenning:
Read more Davening-The User’s Manual for the Siddur ›

Letting It All Hang Out

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Nope, although the title might imply it, this post is not about tzitzis. It’s about how we respond when the question of one’s BT-ness is brought up. This issue can arise by way of a direct question but more likely it will come up as a result of an inquiry like: Where did you learn? Where did you go to High School? Where did you go to camp? Where did you go to seminary?

I attended public high school at Forest Hills High School. A few times when I’ve been asked where I went to high school and I respond “Forest Hills High School”, people have said “Oh, Chofetz Chaim” (Forest Hills was the home of the main branch of. Chofetz Chaim for many years). Well, not quite.

How do you respond when the question comes up and why do you respond that way? Are you straight foward, simply answering “I’m a Baal Teshuvah” or “I didn’t grow up frum”. Or do you go for something a little less direct like “I came late to the game” or “I’m a late bloomer”. How do you feel when the issue arises: proud, insecure or something else? What are some of the interesting responses you have gotten when you’ve told someone you are a BT?

Back to Basics

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It had been a somewhat emotionally, rhetorically exhausting couple of weeks for active BT bloggers. Or, at least, for this one. Let me explain it this way: I’m a member of a little chevra who email each other on a weekly basis talking about what they’re doing in terms of outreach. (Yeah, an Aish thing. I know.) Not usually having much to say, I finally cooked up a corker of an email talking about my Jewish blogging work of late. It ended with this paragraph:

This is time-consuming work, and I doubt that I will be able to keep up with all the mischief. It is also very depressing, and tremendously challenging; I am not a kiruv professional, after all. I don’t have all the answers, but I do have over 20 years of being frum and learning in my pocket and thank God a good bit of dialectical and analytical skill. It’s really important to balance this sort of swim in the muck with a healthy dose of Jewish family life, davening and learning — because it does not provide the kind of feel-good chizuk you get from a Partners in Torah chavrusa or the like. I sincerely welcome any sort of suggestions or support . . .

Well, how nice for me. In fact, I didn’t get any “suggestions or support” from the group. No one responded to my email. In fact, a few people on the email list whom I met within the next week told me I was probably wasting my time. They thought getting the email addresses of strangers on airplanes and secretaries’ Jewish boyfriends was a better use of effort. Maybe they’re right. It’s hard to tell if anyone’s listening, especially when people you think perhaps are listening the hardest — the intense, brilliant, conflicted friend who introduced me to this blog, for instance, and who recently announced a jump off the deep end of frumkeit — are not moved at all.

Thank God for Shabbos.

Shortly before Shabbos we got a call from the new Aish yeshiva that opened a few blocks from my house. Could I help shore up the minyan erev Shabbos? I have never davened there. I… don’t like BT davening, okay? I worked hard for years so that I could sit at the adults’ table. I now pass for a lifer wherever I go, and I traverse the Internet with my “brilliant,” purple-tinged encomia to and defense of frum life, a self-appointed dean of orthodox Internet polemics. But of course I couldn’t say no; there was a need and I was duty-bound to do what I could to meet it. (My eighth grade son begged off.)

I got there and my heart sank. It was exactly what I thought I’d left behind. Gosh, have kids forgotten how to put on a coat and tie since the mid-80’s? These haircuts! Where do you even get a hat like that?!

But little by little I melted. It just started to feel right. They asked me to daven kabbolos Shabbos, and — for Heaven’s sake, yes! — in no time at all there they were, dancing in a circle! Dancing in a circle! I would have run for the door if I were in their place — but they didn’t! They were so enthusiastic! No one was making them do it. It was spontaneous excitement, and dancing was something they knew how to do. They were young, they were full of, yes, spiritual energy. They had gotten here themselves, they could walk out any time they wanted, but they were spending Shabbos here, and I was at the front of the room leading them.

All the nasty remarks, the cynicism, the blackness of the Internet attacks and the angry emailing; all my coiled up responses, triangulations, rationalizations — this is what it really is: People who want joy in their lives, want to get closer to Hashem, want to be better people. They are not interested, not today, in the anger and bitterness of those who have left this behind and are aghast that others could find it satisfying… the politics of frum institutions, and not so frum ones… the battles of virtual egos in the ether… the hunger for scandal, hypocrisy and failure. And I am not merely pointing fingers at other people’s “bitter” blogs. I generate plenty of this myself. What percentage of my contributions here is angry, disappointed, cynical? How have I gone from enthusiastic beginner, to perfectly presentable professional BT, to scowling, tired old cynic? Is that progress?

These young guys were pounding the table with excitement and joy and love because with the help of Aish HaTorah they were getting the chance to reconnect with something good they knew was in them and that they wanted passionately to let out and to live. They may have had disappointments ahead, clashes with reality, dashed expectations, broken hearts. But that’s not about becoming frum. That’s about life. But a life with all these things, yet with meaning, and hope, and spirit, and a relationship with one’s Maker — that’s a life, with all its reversals, that is worth living.

In fact, the one thing I got right in my email was that it is all hopeless — all the blogging, all the crossed pens, all the melodrama — if you can’t or won’t log off and live a real brick-and-mortar Jewish life. Living it in the moment, turning off the hyperspace drive, taking in what Hashem has given to me, is in fact my hardest challenge.

And sometimes I try so hard to write something special, something by which I hope certain readers will be touched and affected. Yet from time to time the work and the strain and the artifice show through in the piece, all too readily. I want those people to cry when they read it, but that does not work.

It only works if you cry when you write it.

Tu B’Shvat Chag Lilanot

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The 15th day of the Hebrew month of Shvat, a holiday for the trees

The month of Shvat has the constellation Aquarius associated with it, and in kabbalistic astrology implies an outpouring of wisdom to those who want it, at this time. Water is often a symbol of wisdom in the ancient commentaries. Just like we need water on a daily basis, we need wisdom on a daily basis. Wisdom is a basic necessity, but unlike water, most people don’t realize how crucial it is.

It’s a curious fact that the most important things people tend to try and wing it. We all want a happy marriage, wonderful relationships with our parents, siblings, and kids. A friend recently related to me how a disagreement with his manager ended up spiraling out of control until the manager not only fired him but asked him not to set foot in the office. That’s pretty extreme. There must have been a very bad dynamic for it to end up like that. It seems they are both decent people who ended up in a tit for tat. Of course hindsight’s 20/20 but I wonder what would have happened if after the first altercation he had gone to a few people for advice.

We all get into situations in which we aren’t being successful, and the right advice from an objective person can often change things for the better. But are we humble enough to ask advice? At least reading a book on the subject can be of help. Being a human being is fraught with challenges. For every major challenge we need to read at least ten books on the subject. For an accounting degree you need to read a lot. For happiness, you need to read even more. Many more people can successfully complete an accounting course than can achieve a pleasurable amount of happiness. And humility, not meekness, is one of the character treats that lead people to seek advice or answers to their dilemmas.

This, the sages say, is one of the most important traits for acquiring wisdom. Just like water flows downward to the lowest spot it can find, so too the spiritual rules of the universe that the Almighty designed allow wisdom to flow to a humble person, provided the humble person appreciates, desires, and seeks wisdom.

Similarly, fruits are a symbol of God’s love since they are delicious and sort of a natural dessert. Tu Bshvat is when the sap starts to rise in the trees which will eventually cause the fruits to grow. It is a day of “judgement” on the trees, i.e. on us to see if we appreciate God’s blessings for humanity, and if we are using them in a way that is beneficial for us.

A divine flow of wisdom is waiting for us. And a spiritual source of blessing hangs in the balance. They are both two sides of the same coin.

Monday night, the 21st of January is when Tu B’Shvat falls out this year. Some people have the custom of eating fruits, especially the ones associated with Israel from the Torah, i.e. wheat, barley, grapes (wine), figs, pomegranates, olive (oil), and dates. We make blessings, show our appreciation to God, and remind ourselves that He loves us.

Eat, drink, and be mystical.

Happy Tu B’Shvat!

Max Weiman
Kabbalah Made Easy, Inc.
www.kabbalahmadeeasy.com

How to Find a Shabbos Friendly Employer?

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Thanks for all the good advice on moving to Philadelphia. I have another related question.

I’ll be looking for a new job. I could use advice about finding a “Shabbat friendly” employer. When in the interview process do I bring up the topic of not working during Shabbat? Are there any other tips thats would be helpful. Up until now I’ve been working at jobs where this wasn’t an issue.

Spiritual Gridlock

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A proposed solution for New York traffic echoes the ancient wisdom of the Talmud

New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg wants to end traffic congestion in Manhattan. However, as sympathetic as New Yorkers may be to Mr. Bloomberg’s vision, his proposed method is most likely to produce madness.

To curb the number of vehicles entering downtown (which has grown annually by an average of 8000 per day since the 1920s, according to U. S. News and World Report), the proposed law would encourage (or coerce) commuters to rely on public transportation by imposing a daytime tax of $8 per car and $21 per truck traveling onto the island. City officials believe that this “congestion pricing” would reduce traffic by as much as 12 ½ percent.

Whether or not commuters can be persuaded to practice even occasional abstinence in their love affairs with their cars makes for interesting speculation. However, the concept itself is sound. In fact, it has been used for some time on a much larger scale, implemented throughout every borough of the world by the Mayor of the Universe.

EXPRESS LANES TO FREEDOM
The most the dramatic experiment in mass transit came 3320 years ago when the Almighty split the Sea of Reeds, allowing the Jews to pass through and escape their Egyptian pursuers. In contrast to Cecil B. DeMille’s famous recreation, the sages teach that the sea opened up into twelve distinct passageways, one for each of the Tribes of Israel. As they passed through, the water separating the passages turned clear like glass, so that each tribe could see its fellow tribesmen traveling alongside them.

The design of this miracle teaches three lessons. First, the division of the sea into separate passageways demonstrates that there is more than one way to have a relationship with G-d. The Almighty does not want us to be automatons or clones, sheepishly following whoever is in front of us. Each individual is unique, and his divine service should be tailored to the nature of his singular soul.

Second, the water turning clear like glass reveals the lengths to which we must go to master the human ego. Had the walls of each passageway remained opaque, each tribe would have thought that it alone had discovered the correct avenue to reach the other side, and that it alone was traveling in the right direction to serve G-d. When they saw the other tribes traveling along side them, the Jews of each tribe recognized that they were not the only ones who had discerned the proper path.

The final lesson can be learned from recognizing that there were a limited number of paths. Anyone who did not follow one of the twelve passageways was, literally and figuratively, under water. Every spiritual movement does not become legitimate simply because it declares itself so, no matter how sincere its leaders or followers may be. Every self-proclaimed “holy man” is not genuine simply because he hangs out his shingle or attracts parishioners. Natural laws govern the operation of the spiritual universe just as they govern the workings of the physical world. One cannot render those rules null and void simply by wishing them out of existence or declaring them defunct, any more than congress can annul the force of gravity.

THE PRICE OF PRIDE
There is yet one more insight to be gained from the illustration of the Jews’ passage through the sea, one that is echoed by the New York mayor’s effort to cure his city’s traffic woes.

Consider the car as an allegory for personal autonomy. In a very real sense, we are all control freaks. We want to control our destiny, to chart our own heading, to have our hands on the wheel. Often the greatest demonstration of inner strength comes through humbling ourselves, giving up control and placing our fate in the hands of another. Often this is a concession we are either unwilling or unable to make.

But do we consider the cost? For car owners, the cost is rolled up in the price of the vehicle itself, of gas, insurance, repairs, parking fees, tolls and, perhaps, congestion tax. Public transportation is far cheaper and often more efficient. But still we refuse to relinquish control.

In business, the most efficient workers are those who work as part of a team, who coordinate their efforts with the efforts of others and trust their coworkers to get their own jobs done. Those who try to do everything themselves, or to micromanage others at their work, create confusion, inefficiency, and frustration.

Our relationships, marriages, and families function best when the individuals within them tend to their own responsibilities and allow others to look after theirs. Hovering, ordering, or criticizing before a spouse or child has even had a chance to complete an assigned task breeds resentment and destroys trust.

Spirituality is much the same. We like to think that we are in control of defining our own relationship with the Almighty. We strike out in whatever direction seems right to us, often without any roadmap or compass to guide us in distinguishing good from bad, right from wrong, moral from immoral. We believe that intuition alone will get us to our goal, when we have only the faintest notion of where we are trying to get.

Worst of all, there is available transportation ready to take us to our final destination in the most efficient way. By keeping G-d’s laws and following in His ways, we guarantee ourselves the smoothest possible journey through this world until we arrive at the World to Come.

THE FAST TRACK
But still many of us won’t give up control. So the Almighty levies His “taxes,” creating obstacles that make the paths of personal autonomy increasingly difficult. We feel stifled in our jobs, unhappy with our families, and discontented with the direction of our lives. So we seek out “detours,” looking for fulfillment in the least likely places: alcohol, drugs, gambling, or extramarital affairs. We think change will make us feel better, but we usually find ourselves worse off than before.

Rabbi Elyahu Dessler explains that we find ourselves in emotional or spiritual darkness at those times when we have cut ourselves off from the source of spirituality in the world. But when we “look into the darkness,” when we recognize that we have created the darkness for ourselves by distancing ourselves from the ways of the Creator, then and only then will we begin to find our way back to the light. By giving up control over our destiny, we regain mastery over our soul.

Whether taxing drivers will solve New York’s traffic problems remains a mystery. But it is in our hands to solve the mysteries of the spirit by following the well-trodden path of the generations that have gone before us. By retracing their steps, we can have confidence that we are not solely dependent upon our own devices to chart our way out of the darkness of confusion, but that we have a clearly marked path to follow toward the light of true meaning.

This article first appeared in the Jewish World Review.

The Teshuva Journey: An Untold Miracle From The Summer 2006 War In Lebanon

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Israel’s war in Lebanon in the summer of 2006 left behind many powerful stories, from courageous sacrifices to tragic destruction and numerous miracles. One of the most powerful stories is that of a young Naval sergeant who found G-d on a ship in the middle of a heated battle, as told by Rabbi Lazer Brody.

Rabbi Brody runs the Emunah Outreach Program which offers classes and a widely-read outreach blog. He grew up secular, served for many years in an elite special forces unit in the IDF and is a veteran of the first Lebanon War. During that war he himself had a miraculous experience in the streets of Beirut which helped him find his way back to Orthodoxy. He’s now known as Rabbi Rambo and speaks frequently to Israeli military units.

In mid-October 2006 Rabbi Brody was on a train in Tel Aviv on its way to Haifa. A young Israeli Naval sergeant entered the car and sat down in a nearby seat. Rabbi Brody smiled at him. The sergeant, whom we’ll call Moshe, sighed deeply and sheepishly asked, “Can I talk to you, Rav?”

“Of course,” Rabbi Brody said and asked him how he knew that he was a Rabbi. Moshe replied that he had heard Rabbi Brody eulogize a fallen friend during the war.

Moshe had the clear look of a fresh ba’al teshuva – a new beard was growing on his face, and the knitted kippa on his head was still stiff from being worn only a short time. After a few moments he began sharing the miraculous story which happened to him during the war.

Moshe had been onboard the Israeli missile ship Hanit on Friday night, July 14 when it was anchored off the coast of Beirut. The evening began as a typical quiet Friday night, but quickly turned into a rollercoaster as the sailors saw the miracles of Hashem’s hand again and again.

“Usually, the crew would eat Friday night dinner in two shifts,” Moshe told Rabbi Brody. “But this time, since we were in a war zone, our three religious crewmen went to Lieutenant Colonel A., the skipper, and begged that we all need Hashem’s help. The first miracle is that the skipper agreed to leave only four sailors on the bridge, and allowed the rest of the crew to pray together. The four sailors were non-Jews and volunteered to allow their crewmates to participate in a proper Sabbath meal. The rest of us piled into the synagogue and said a lengthy Mincha and Kabbalat Shabbat.

“I was bored and wanted to eat quickly and then catch a few hours sleep because I had the midnight watch. But I stayed with the rest of the crew. Then all of us had a Shabbat meal together: 15 different sailors said Kiddush, each in the custom of his fathers. I’m talking about guys that aren’t even religious! The meal was drawn out. I had a headache and was dying to go to sleep.”

Just as the sailors began to bentch after the meal, a Hezbullah missile fired from the shore slammed into the rear of the boat. Flames shot skyward as the entire end of the boat was burned. First the missile, and then the blaze should have sunk the ship, but miraculously it stayed afloat. The missile missed every critical piece of the ship, and instead hit a crane above the chopper landing pad which absorbed the impact. In another astonishing miracle, the nearby helicopter-refueling tank, which was full of fuel, did not explode.

Only the four sailors on the bridge were killed. The rest of the crew should have died as well, but were saved by their Shabbat dinner in the galley.

Moshe had beads of sweat on his forehead and tears filled his eyes as he continued
with his story.

“The newspapers don’t write about the miracles that we all saw. I ran to my bunk on the deck right below the landing pad. It was charcoal; my metal bunk was completely melted down and all my possessions were ashes. If I hadn’t been detained in the chapel and in the dining hall for Shabbat meal, I would have been charcoal too. I haven’t stopped thanking Hashem since then. I’ve changed my life.”

Moshe reported that even more miracles happened aboard the ship that night. The engine room was burned to a crisp, but a pair of Tefillin in perfect condition was found nearby. And in the middle of the destruction the sailors found a Book of Psalms, also unscathed. It was found open to Psalm 124, which acknowledges the unceasing protection Hashem gives us. Among the words in Psalm 124 are these:

“Had not Hashem been with us when men rose up against us, then they would have swallowed us alive, when their anger was kindled against us. Then the waters would have inundated us; the current would have surged across our soul.”

Moshe saw Hashem’s hand repeatedly that night. He should have lost his life, but Hashem sent him miracle after miracle to save him.

The Israeli military never expected the Hanit to be hit. It assumed the boat was far enough offshore to be safe, and didn’t know that Hezbullah had missiles of the range to hit it. Within a few seconds, those security misconceptions were shattered. Within those few seconds, Moshe’s many misconceptions about life and Judaism were shattered as well. The many miracles opened his eyes to Hashem’s constant involvement in our lives. Hashem is always with us, usually below the surface, but sometimes He sends a miracle to remind us of His constant watchful presence. Sometimes it takes a whole series of miracles to bring someone to recognize Him.

As Rabbi Brody described it, the Hanit took a direct hit from a Hezbullah missile, but Moshe turned the navy’s military setback into a personal spiritual victory.

Michael Gros is the Chief Operating Officer of the kiruv organization The Atlanta Scholars’ Kollel. The Teshuva Journey is a monthly column chronicling amazing teshuva journeys and inspiring kiruv tales. To share a story or send other comments, email michaelgros@gmail.com To receive the column via email or see back issues, visit http://www.michaelgros.com

(published in The Jewish Press August, 2007)

Doing Kiruv on Campus

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By Yaakov Weinstein

A few weeks ago I was having a conversation with a college student. This student had just enjoyed an inspiring summer of learning and was going back to college with a new vision for religious activities and events to facilitate his continuing growth in learning. To insure the soundness of his plans, he spoke to a number of Jewish, Orthodox, people supposedly knowledgeable about halachic Judaism on campus. He related to me that one rabbi told him: be sure to serve alcohol that’s the way to attract the non-religious kids.

Disregarding the major issue that serving alcohol to minors is illegal (and the disdainful tone that of course non-religious students would be attracted by alcohol), this led us to a discussion of kiruv on campus. Specifically, should religious kids be doing kiruv while at college? In the following paragraphs I will try to relate my opinion on this thorny (and ill-defined) subject. However, before relating my opinion I would like to note that every student is different. I believe that what I write below is appropriate for the typical student but that there may be students who could and should deviate from my prescription. Also, I ask everyone to read the entire post before commenting.

So, should college students be doing kiruv on campus? In short, my answer is NO! A students’ primary (spiritual) focus while at college should be his or her own religious well being. This is especially true in light of what we have discussed previously concerning the challenges facing students on campus (link). Thus, I would strongly discourage students from running activities geared solely to attract the non-religious student to halachic Judaism or Hillel, and I strongly disagree that ‘doing kiruv’ is a proper justification for attending a college not run under religious Jewish auspices (there are other justifications as we have discussed) It should go without saying that I despise the suggestion of illegal activity in the name of kiruv.

Why not do kiruv?

No doubt many people reading this post know (or are) people who became frum while at college (I know many such people too). If so why not encourage students who are already religious to actively encourage this phenomenon? The reasons not to encourage such activities are on many levels:

1) chayecha kodem – ones own spiritual growth takes precedence over that of others. I do not mean to get into a halachic discussion of this concept but merely to point out that most students at college are not yet very strong in many Jewish subjects. These years are an especially important time for religious growth (as by this points students are hopefully mature enough to realize the importance of religion, generally do not have to worry about making a living and lack the resposibility of a spouse and kids) thus ones time should be spent on their own learning.

2) The opposite of the above is that when ‘doing kiruv’ one may come across questions they cannot answer. This can lead to doubts about religious Judaism and an eventual exit from the community. I feel this is especially important for those who have come recently to a halacha-based life and may have a ‘proselyizing spirit.’ Those who know the least should not be the ones teaching others.

3) Sometimes suggested kiruv activities may violate halacha. Joining three mechitza dancing on Simchas Torah (one section for mixed dancing) or joining any other halachiaclly questionable activity to show that frum students are cool too is just not a good idea.

What can students do?

The above applies to what I’ll call ‘active’ kiruv or attempting to bring export religious Judaism to others. However, there are many time when kiruv opportunities can come to a student. For example, a non-religious Jew may decide to check out the Orthodox minyan. In such a case kinship to a fellow Jew (not to mention simple rules of kindness) demand that more knowledgable students take the time to ‘show him/her the ropes,’ answer any questions the student may have and just be friendly. Another such opportunity is the ‘study-with-a-buddy’ programs. In such programs students learn Jewish texts together. Those with a stronger background (who tend to be Orthodox) are paired with students whose backgrounds are not as strong. Again in this situation I think it appropriate that a religious student utililze this opportunity to show a students of a weaker background the beauty of their shared religion (note that even this type of program can lead to uncomfortable religious situations, as discussed in my last post, and students should be aware of this beforehand). Notice that in the two cases cited those who are not religious have approached those who are. To make a sports analogy, the situation is on religious turf. The activities I would discourage (though they may take on the guise of a religious ritual) are those where the religious students disrupt their basic routine in order to seek non-religious kids to influence.

Finally, I would like to encourage all students to view their fellow Jews not as kiruv material but in the spirit of kinship. Judging the success of interaction with our non-religious brethren based on their eventual level of halachic fidelity is 1) demeaning, and 2) bound to be disappointing. Most non-religious students will not become religious because of you. Rather, the goals of a religious student should center on perfecting his or her own knowledge of Judaism and character traits. If religious students on campus were to establish a community that was passionate in their beliefs while being honest, friendly, understanding and respectful, there is little question in mind that others would strive to join this community.

If I Were Addressing the AJOP Convention

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The 20th Annual AJOP Convention is scheduled to take place January 18-22, 2008. The Convention 2008 Theme is: “The Future of Judaism: Setting the Course – A Conference Examining the Relationship of Jews to Judaism”. We asked our regular contributors what they would say if they could address the convention. Here is Neil Harris’ response. You can add your thoughts in the comments.

The key issues I would bring up would be:

Social mentoring with residents in a community

This is very different than being invited to the same home week after week, which is an excellent way to m’karev someone. I think that individuals or families reach a point when they need to see less of a “local view” and more of the “global view” of Torah Judaism. In addition, a loosely structured network of Baalei Teshuva across the country needs to be formed, so that someone moving into a new community with many choices of schools and shuls can start of with a contact who know where they are coming from.

Developing an understanding of achdus and respect of other’s hashkafos

Often we, as Baalei Teshuva, become part of a shul, yeshiva, or segment of a frum sub-culture and for some reason, end up looking down on others. This is totally counter productive to promoting the achdus that we, as Baalei Teshuva would like to see.

Chizuk in times of ‘burn out’ or frustration

Advising the ‘kiruv professional’ how to help build self-esteem and persistence in learning and integration in the observant community is key. Too often, the Baal Teshuva gets to a point where they feel frustrated and people need to know that they are not in it alone.

Teaching not just the “how to” but the “this is why we do it”

Making the slow, gradual jump in a Torah observant lifestyle means learning a barrage of new things like: Kashrus, mechanics of davening, Hilchos Shabbos, laws of family purity, struggling with children’s homework, etc. It’s easy to get caught up in ‘catching up’ with our lack of background and the reasons we do things like keep Shabbos might get washed away by questions like, “Can I heat up a chicken w/ sauce on Shabbos?”

These are just a few thoughts.

How Do You Choose a New Community?

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My husband and I are very seriously considering moving to the Philadelphia area. I’m a little concerned about choosing a community in an area where I don’t know anyone. How does one go about doing that? When moving do people “interview” Rabbis about their shuls/community? If so, what should I ask?

I’m pretty open-minded when it comes to “denomination,” I’m mostly concerned
about finding a community that would be welcoming of both me (still learning/growing in my observance) and my husband (who is not presently observant).

We Need to Be a Little Kinder

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A paraphrased comment from out there in the blogosphere:

I’d love to see the perspective of someone like “Esther” at Beyond BT, but I personally would hate to see someone who is more of a moderate be vilified and maligned.

Based on some of the more vocal and vehemently opinionated comments I’ve read on the (otherwise enjoyable and interesting) BBT blog, that is what would likely happen.