I still vividly recall that when I was the head of Camp Morasha’s Machon program twenty plus years ago, the camp policy was that the older campers did not watch movies for any night programs during the Nine Days, yet they would occasionally take the kids on an outing to a local mall and bowling, which to me seemed much more of a simchat meriut than sitting in a room quietly watching some action thriller. These paradoxes and dillemas are inherent to the social structure of camp which the late Ashkenazic rishonim who bequethed to us the extension of the restrictions of Shavuah she-chal bo into a Nine Day period could not have imagined or envisioned. And yet camp for so many kids in all segements of the Orthodox community, it is a critical educational and maturing experience that helps them grow as Jews and human beings. And so in the end it seems to me that we create a kind of symbolic “observance” of the Nine Days or the Three Weeks in which we don’t take haircuts or shave (depending on one’s custom), or in some camps have some kind of instructional swim or other changes, while in essence camp and its regular rhythms continue as the dominant culture that it clearly is. It is part of the real-life dissonance of navigating the push and pulls of conflicting Jewish and educational needs and desirata.

To read two essays of Rav Amital’s published in Tradition, click here. 

Rav Amital and the Complexity of Life and Judaism

By Nathaniel Helfgot

 The passing of Moreinu Verabeinu Rav Yehuda Amital zt”l has deeply affected us all who were his direct or indirect students. It is difficult to write a comprehensive retrospective of such a unique, courageous yet humble gadol baTorah and leader of the Jewish people and I will not attempt to do so here. As the years pass, unique figures such as these who united in their life experiences so much of modern-Jewish history are far and few between.  These experiences include: learning in pre-war yeshivot and fighting in Israel’s War of Independence; surviving the Shoah and building one of the most significant Yeshivot Hesder; fusing the simplicity and innocence of pure yirat shamayim of classical hasidut coupled with sophisticated and profound thinking of the highest level; all infused with a deep and robust love of the Jewish people and the State of Israel. It is especially difficult for me to write about someone who I came to know and love on a personal level outside of the yeshiva: at Pesah sedarim in his home; Shabbat and Yom Tov visits; and help in transliterating his speeches at Yeshivat Har Eztion dinners into Hebrew characters in the Olcott Hotel on Manhattan’s Upper West Side all those years ago; and so many other situations where he and his wife opened their home and hearts to me.

Yeshivat Har Etzion has been preparing a volume during the last two years celebrating the fortieth anniversary of its founding. As an alumnus I submitted an essay for that volume on the theme of complexity as a core value of the yeshiva and its educational philosophy. As a tribute to Rav Amital zt”l, I share with the readers of Text and Texture a portion of a draft of that essay that focuses on Rav Amital and the complexity of the human condition and Judaism. May his memory be forever a blessing.

 The Holocaust and the State of Israel

                R. Amital was born in Transylvania, Hungary in 1924 and was taken to a slave labor camp during the war years; he narrowly escaped being sent to a death camp on a number of occasions. His entire family, many friends, and his primary teacher were murdered at the hands of the Nazis, may their name be blotted out. He made aliya in 1945, studied in Yeshivat Chevron, and fought in the Hagana during Israel’s War of Independence. Moshe Maya has written a small but important volume on Rav Amital’s theology and perspective on the Holocaust, which also relates to his perspective on the meaning of the modern State of Israel.  There is no need to review the insightful comments and analysis that are presented in that superb monograph; my intention is simply to focus on the impact of these two seminal events in the life of R. Amital in sharpening his sense of the complexity of the world, Jewish history, halakha, and the human condition.

In a number of sichot, R. Amital expresses the notion that simply continuing to live with one’s historical world-view or religious approach to God after the Shoah, as if nothing occurred, is simply impossible. The simple, black and white categories of how Divine Providence operates and the perspectives on reward and punishment, the march of history, and the Divine plan that many in both the Charedi and Religious-Zionist camps espouse cannot encompass the reality and meaning of the Shoah. Thus, for example, the classic religious approach of basing one’s service of God on basic gratitude, hakarat ha-tov, as articulated by Rabbeinu Bachaya Ibn Pakuda in his classic “Duties of the Heart,” cannot be sustained:

In the Gate of Distinction, Rabbeinu Bachaya expands on the need to constantly think about God’s kindness; thus, the obligation of Divine service springs from belief in His unity and recognition of His good… More than a few modern rabbis and preachers have continued to espouse the idea of gratitude as a basis for worshipping God… After the awesome devastation of the Jewish people in the Holocaust, how, if at all, can we talk about our worship of God being based on gratitude or recognition of God’s grace?… Can a Jew who lost his wife and children possibly serve God out of the recognition of his kindness? Can a Jew whose job was the removal of the charred remains of the corpses from the crematoria be capable of serving God on the basis of gratitude? No, not in any way, shape or form!… Rabbenu Bachaya in the tenth section of his Chovot Ha-levavot, the Gate of the Love of God, sets out a different path of Divine service…

 In place of faith based on gratitude, a more nuanced and profound faith and belief system must emerge:

…a Divine love not based on gratitude but on faith, which persists even in an era of Divine concealment. The mishna (Sota 5:5) states: “On that very day, R. Yehoshua Ben Hyrcanus preached: Job served God out of love, as it says: ‘Even though He slays me, I will trust in Him.’”[1]

 In similar fashion, in R. Amital’s view, the Holocaust and its aftermath, including the rise of the State of Israel, have overturned the all-encompassing religious historiography of both Chareidi and Religious-Zionist ideologues:

Great leaders, among them most of the Chassidic Rebbes, rejected Zionism. In the meantime, a Holocaust took place. In the meantime, the State was established, but to the Chareidi view, it cannot be possible that the leaders were mistaken… The correct answer… is that no one foresaw – nor was anyone capable of foreseeing – the Holocaust… People are afraid to state openly that there are things that Rav Kook did not foresee, and this in and of itself does not diminish his greatness. R. Akiva… believed that Bar Kochva was the Messiah and he was mistaken, but nevertheless he remained R. Akiva.[2]

 Moshe Maya summarizes:

The Holocaust confounded the entire ideological system and forces us to renewed evaluation of our religious world-view… It is impossible to maintain either a Religious–Zionist or Chareidi world-view and ignore the Holocaust.[3]

 For R. Amital, then, one must be prepared to reevaluate one’s most deeply held ideological convictions in light of reality in order to arrive at a true and honest path in the service of God. Sloganeering and facile conceptions of ideology held on to without analysis and consideration of all factors yield false and superficial beliefs and world-views.

The Holocaust and the creation of the State of Israel are, in Rav Amital’s view, also significant religious moments in Jewish history from a halakhic perspective.  In his view, these events have not only upset long-held notions about the way Jewish history should play out, but classical halakhic categories as well. To take one example, the classic categories of tzaddik and rasha simply can not remain in light of the experience of the Shoah and the new and complex reality of the secular Israeli Jew and his devotion to people and country:

Are we permitted to condemn people who find it difficult to have faith after all that the Holocaust did to Jewish souls? If Rav Kook and the Chazon Ish spoke of “coerced innocents” before the Holocaust, what shall we say today?… In Talmudic times, people who desecrated the Sabbath were also suspect regarding theft and robbery. Today, high ethical standards and moral standards can be found among people who reject the authority of the Torah and have abandoned religious observance. In recent generations, we have seen people devoid of religious faith give their lives for ethical–moral ideals or for the Jewish people and Eretz Yisrael. Therefore, it is only natural that we should adopt a different stance.

There was a time when the Jews were hated for being the bearers of the Torah. As soon as a Jew stopped living according to his religion and accepted the religion of his Gentile milieu, the hatred ceased. Contemporary Jew hatred is racial, directed against people in whom Jewish blood flows… In Auschwitz, the Germans did not check Jews for their opinions or degree of observance. Are we going to do so as a preliminary to observing the mitzvot of “You shall love your fellow as yourself” and “Your brother shall live with you?” If we believe that the State of Israel is a haven for millions of Jews and if we believe that the survival of those Jews hinges on peace for Israel and the Jewish State’s capacity to withstand its many enemies, and if we believe that the re-establishment of the Jewish state is and its survival constitute a Kiddush Hashem… then we had better realize that the State of Israel is not going to endure without cordial relations between all sectors of the nation.[4]

 The Thought of Rav Kook

The writings and life’s work of R. Avraham Yitzhak Ha-Kohen Kook zt”l had a profound effect on the intellectual, social, religious and political culture, discussion, and agendas of Israel, its leaders, thinkers, and intellectuals for the past seven decades. In particular, the thought of Rav Kook and his personality, as interpreted by his son, R. Tzvi Yehuda zt”l and his followers, have dominated the thinking, ethos, and perspectives of much of the Religious-Zionist community in Israel for two generations.  In addition, the philosophical and mystical writings of Rav Kook have become a central area of study in modern Jewish thought, both in the modern-Orthodox yeshiva world and in the academy. A central feature of R. Kook’s world-view is a sophisticated and multi-layered view of reality. It is rooted in a kabbalistic orientation that adopts a dialectical perspective regarding the nature of various phenomena in human and Jewish history. Phenomena that may, on their surface, be easily categorized as “good” or “bad” must be more fully analyzed in order to recognize their core energy and essence, which may reflect ultimate “truths” or goods from the more long-term perspective of the Divine economy and providence.  The same can often hold true for the experiences of the individual and his study and exposure to both the holy and the “not yet holy” phenomena of life.

R. Kook’s writings are characterized by a deep appreciation for the multi-faceted nature of the world we experience, the partial reality that we are exposed to, and the need to go beyond surface and initial perceptions to get to the heart and essence of a topic or phenomena. To take one example of this type of thought, Rav Kook’s short comments on holiness are paradigmatic of his entire approach:

Just as the soul of man is higher and more inward than the angels and precisely because of its greatness, it descended to the lowest level, and from there will arise with great and awesome spiritual wealth to prepare the entire world for ascent to the source—so that the sacred that is within the mundane, which descended to the utterly profane, is more lofty and holy than the sacred within the realm of the sacred, only that it is extremely hidden. There is no end to the tikkunim that will accrue to the world via the mundane, which will be manifestly revealed at the happy time when there will be no light… Before the Light of the Messiah (may it be revealed speedily in our days), the power of holiness within the secular will be aroused, which initially will arouse the secular. “All will speak the language of men, not the language of God (Zohar).”[5]

From his early adulthood, Rav Amital was heavily influenced by the writings of Rav Kook and viewed himself as a student of R. Kook, R. Yaacov Moshe Charlap zt”l, one of Rav Kook’s closest students and confidantes, and Rav Kook’s son, R. Tzvi Yehuda.[6]

R. Amital has written that “My spiritual outlook is based on and nourished by the writings of Rav Kook.” Most poignantly, he responded to someone who inquired what had kept him going during the Holocaust, “I had a booklet by Rav Kook, that’s what sustained me.” Rav Amital expanded on that comment in a later talk:

I became aware of the writings of R. Kook at an early age while still in Hungary, where I was born. As a young yeshiva student, I was studying a book about legends of our Sages by a modern author, and I came upon a quote, an excerpt from R. Kook’s Orot. It was night and I saw there was a great light. It seized my imagination. I began to search for writings by Rav Kook… I was seventeen when the Germans came, and I was summoned to be transported to a labor camp in an unknown location… I didn’t know what awaited me. I took a few small books in a bag; a Pentateuch, Prophets, Mishna, and I thought there would be a need for something else, that would perhaps maintain the necessary morale in hard times. And so I took Mishnat Ha-Rav [a compilation of Rav Kook’s teachings edited by R. Moshe Zvi Neryia zt”l]. Indeed, I received encouragement and strength from that book.[7] 

 In a more lengthy passage, Rav Amital clearly indicates his appreciation and identification with Rav Kook’s intellectual approach. In it, he articulates which elements of his thought and perspective are still relevant today, some seventy years after Rav Kook’s death. In that context, he particularly notes Rav Kook’s insistence on a sophisticated and nuanced understanding of Jewish thought and a rejection of the superficial and simple-minded approach:

We should also stress his [R. Kook’s] constant struggle against the superficial approach in understanding basic concepts of Judaism and his continual cry for deep study of the theoretical part of the Torah… Let us not blind ourselves to the fact that religious Jewry of today is showing great vitality to flourish and prosper with its “simple religiosity,” proste frumkeit, in Rav Kook’s phrase (Letters Vol. 1, p. 160), without concern for its religious and godly concepts… I think it would be irresponsible on our part to proceed in the confidence that there will be no religious crisis in the future arising from the poverty of religious thought and confused, sometimes childish conceptions of the principles of faith.[8]

 The Study of Responsa Literature

R. Amital’s intellectual background and training is a blend of classical Hungarian lehrnen together with the Lithuanian method of learning Talmud that he was exposed to both in Hungary and upon his entry into the halls of Yeshivat Chevron in Jerusalem. As anyone who has seen the dozens and dozens of stacks of sefarim in R. Amital’s house can attest, R. Amital carries with him a great interest, as well as deep familiarity with and control of, the vast body of responsa literature.

Exposure to and identification with that literature can and often does lead to a greater awareness and appreciation of the complexities and challenges of life as it is lived in both normal and extreme situations.  Extensive reading of responsa literature undermines a common misconception amongst those who view halakhic decision making in formalistic legal terms. In this rarified conception, the posek is a sort of objective quasi-computer, punching out clear answers based on the input of sources fed into his memory. The reality that emerges from study of response, however, is one of a vibrant and pulsating world of differential pesak rooted in context, the weighing of various factors, the reality of human and spiritual needs (often recognized by halakha in terms such as tza’ar, she’at ha-dechak, kevod ha-beriyot, mishum iggun, etc.), balanced exquisitely with fidelity to the written codes, texts, and their intent. As Rav Lichtenstein has noted in his discussion of Chazal’s license to make use of minority opinions in addressing situations of she’at ha-dechak:

Implicit in this formulation is the concept of differential pesak, the principle that divergent answers may be given to the identical halakhic question, depending upon the attendant human and social circumstances; and it is this concept which holds the key to the advocacy of sensitivity in halakhic decision.[9]

Control and mastery of the responsa literature is thus an important element in sensitizing any religious leader to the complexities of Jewish life, both personal and communal. In addition, in addressing important questions of Halakha, public policy, and issues of individual guidance it provides the sensitive posek with a range of materials to draw from and make use of, beyond the cut and dry presentations of the formal codes, in providing advice and hora’ah.

THE GREAT FIRE: THREE SICHOT OF HA-RAV AMITAL

Yehudah Mirsky 

 Rabbinic voices combining ethics with halakha, faithfulness with freedom, intellectual and spiritual, are unbearably rare. One such was mori ve-rabi Rav Yehudah Amital zt’l, Though he passed away at 85, his death leaves a void.  

He was a complex man who taught students to appreciate complexity while striving for simplicity. He wanted us both to love Torah and think for ourselves. He was passionately committed to mitzvot and halakha and passionately committed to freedom. His path and teachings are hard to summarize. He was, after all, an original.

In trying to put into words just who and what he and his Torah meant, three of the many talks I was privileged to hear him give over the years somehow bring him and his message into focus.

In the fall of 1978, he spoke in the yeshiva about Rashi’s comment on Abraham’s bidding the three three mysterious visitors he welcomed to his tent, “and wash your feet,” (Gen. 18:4) – Abraham suspected, Rashi said, that they were idolaters, who “would bow down to the dust on their feet., and he took care not to bring idolatry into his home.” Rashi’s answer raises the question, what sort of idolatry is that?

Rav Amital leaned forward and said: “Some people worship God, and some worshop themselves by way of God. They worship the framework of their own lives. God may loom large in the framework, so much so that there isn’t room for anyone or anything else. But it’s all inside a framework, made of ‘me.’

He spoke briefly, as always, leaned back, and was done. We all sat in stunned silence, each one of us catapulted into probing cheshbon ha-nefesh.  It was a long few minutes before our singing resumed.

The second was in the spring of 1980, on a shabbat when many alumni and their families came to the yeshiva. He talked about the Israelites’ terror at Mount Sinai, (Deut. 5:22): “But now, why should we die? For it will consume us, this great fire; if we continue to hear the voice of Hashem our God anymore, we will die!”

He said: “Some people seek fire, but a little fire, nice, tame, that won’t hurt anybody. Don’t be like that. Always be one of those who seeks the great fire.”

Always be one of those, who seeks the great fire.

And finally, from December 1982, at the founding assembly of Netivot Shalom, the religious peace movement formed in the wake of the first Lebanon War.  He said:  “There are three kinds of false messianism afoot in the Land of Israel today: Gush Emunim (with which he had formerly been engaged), Peace Now and Ariel Sharon.”

He continued: “We live in a complex reality and each proposes a simple answer: Gush Emumin offers faith, Peace Now offers good intentions, and Ariel Sharon offers force. Not one of them is sufficient. All three are necessary; we need good intentions, and faith, and, when necessary, force.”

These three talks burned themselves into me, from the moment I first heard them, and down through the years. Discoursing on them at length would only dilute their power.  When I think of why these three stayed with me, more than all the rest, I would have to say that they etch a vision of striving for truth in religious life and serving God, coupled with an awareness of complexity and a will to searching self-criticism.

In other words, Torah is real, and will free us both from the wretchedness of this world, and from the pathetic shallowness of worshipping ourselves. This liberation takes the willingness to take clear and hard looks at ourselves, our politics, society and our religion. It takes audacity, the willingness to take risks, and the desire to touch the essentials, bearers of great creativity and destruction. Serving God takes courage. And in matters of politics and society, as in our own lives, we have to undertake piercing introspection on ourselves, our ideals, and our assumptions.

This balance is so, so missing in Israel today, between conviction and complexity, between self-respect and self-worship, between good intentions, faith and force. The country is full of wonderful people who do extraordinary things, and yet something seems fundamentally broken, leaving us in a place where, as Yeats said, “the best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.” We still don’t know how to live with that great fire, balance its creative and destructive powers, know how to worship God without worshipping ourselves, know how to keep alive the very idea of redemption, while false messianisms, left, right and center, claim their victims all around us.

If I were to put into my own words what I think I learned from Rav Amital, it is that anybody who thinks that God is in his own pocket doesn’t know the meaning of “God,” or “is.” That truth is as terrifying as it is liberating, as is perhaps the meaning of the great fire of Sinai.

Rav Amital told us, to the very end, to think for ourselves, and to cling to “simple Jews,” – both supreme acts of powerful faith, in God and Torah, and in our ability to live in this world, while searching for the great fire.

They will follow God, He will roar like a lion. (Hosea 11:10) 

No Shortcut Judaism

By Alex Israel

Rav Yehuda Amital passed away last week at age 86. He was my Rosh Yeshiva, my teacher, to whom I am indebted for much of my value system and my spiritual path in life. He was a Holocaust survivor, an ideologue, an institution builder, a master teacher, a Talmid Chacham, a humble Jew who cared about every other Jew, a proud Israeli who fought in the war of Independence, and founded Yeshivot Hesder, sending his own students to fight in the army, who began as a leading settler, and ended up as a supporter of Peace. He stepped into Israeli politics when he felt that his unique contribution could make a difference. Much has been written about him.  However, in some manner of tribute I would like to add a few personal reflections. One caveat – a short blog entry could not do any justice to the depth of his learning, his extensive achievements, the magnetism and warmth of his personality, nor his personal charisma.

No Shortcuts – “אין פטנטים”

I believe that no student could pass through the Yeshiva without hearing Rav Amital’s trademark saying – אין פטנטים. By this he meant that there are no shortcuts to spirituality, to mastery of Torah, to God. Rav Amital sought authenticity. He would sing over and over: וטהר לבנו לעבדך באמת – In other words, ‘God purify us that we serve you authentically, in truth, in depth” and Rav Amital believed that this was hard work. He insisted that the Yeshiva be a place of learning without distraction, of depth and devoted study. He spoke about prayer and how religious connection is an “Avoda sheba-lev (service of the heart)” meaning that it was an Avoda – hard work. Spiritual highs cannot come instantaneously.

Rav Amital expressed his disdain for religious fads, superficial expressions of piety, and what he saw as shallow spiritual thrills. Furthermore, he was uninterested in religious practices that took a person out of the cycle of the “normal.” Once, a friend of mine – a ba’al teshuva – was pedantically cleaning his hands PRIOR to Netilat Yadayim. He had studied the directive of the Mishna Berura that required that one ensure that no substance become a barrier to the waters and interfere with the ritual washing of the hands. Rav Amital saw him and gently said to him: “Danny. Be normal!” He believed that strict and full accordance with the Halakha was a way of life that demanded effort and work, but that it should not take a person away from the orbit of normal people, or regular living.

In this vein, he voiced his wariness with the increasing practice within the Religious-Zionist community to grow peyot (sidelocks) and don huge kippot (yarmulkas). He spoke against it saying that these outer trappings were an expression of fear and insecurity, that people were frightened that they could not withstand the pressures of secularism and modernity. He encouraged people to have confidence in the religious traditions of their families, in the depth and power of shemirat mitzvoth, and not to resort strange dress, and anti-establishment acts.

Truth, ideological shifting, courage.

Rav Amital’s sense of truth expressed itself in other ways. After the Six-Day War, Rav Amital saw the euphoria of Israel’s successes as a sign of divine Redemption and encouraged that ideology as a practical roadmap for settlement of the land. However with the traumas of the Yom Kippur War (in which he lost 8 students – a tenth of his Yeshiva) and the moral questions of the Lebanon war, Rav Amital questioned his ideological priorities.

He felt that Religious Zionism had become morally compromised. When he set up Meimad, his political party, it was not designed to be left wing. It was designed to make the statement that the Land of Israel was not the sole challenge of Religious Zionists, not Judaism’s prime emphasis. Rather Religious Zionism had to adopt other priorities such as social justice and reconnect with the mainstream of Israeli body-politic. He was ostracized for his views, but twenty years later, more and more people talk in that vein.

He had the courage to change his opinions even when his students and the entire Religious-Zionist world ridiculed and vilified him. He was the first major religious leader to suggest that territorial compromise might be the best policy (under the circumstances) for the State of Israel. He was the first person to raise a self-critical voice calling for introspection after the Rabin assassination.

He always called for full allegiance and respect for the Israeli government, understanding that if we uproot our adherence to the source of our sovereignty, we risk everything.

In all these policies he spoke against the Religious-Zionist mainstream, but believed that the truth must be voiced, whatever the personal cost.

Empowerment and Truth

Rav Amital believed in empowering his students. On the inaugural evening of the Yeshiva, he stayed at home. People did not understand why he wasn’t there at the inception of his institution. He replied to the boys: ‘It is YOUR Yeshiva. I will help you, but YOU will make this place succeed or make it fail.”

He invited a talmid chacham who was ten years his junior and a new Oleh – Rav Aharon Lichtenstein shlit”a – to take over the Yeshiva because he felt (his words) that he wanted a superior scholar to lead the institution. In a move of mind-boggling proportions, Rav Amital extended Rav Lichtenstein the position of leading the institution single-handedly as Rosh Yeshiva, and that he (Rav Amital) would merely teach on the faculty! In Rav Lichtenstein’s words: “He left the keys on the table.” Needless to say, Rav Lichtenstein accepted on condition that he partner with Rav Amital. Let me simply say that it is rare to see such an amazing partnership of mutual respect and love. But Rav Amital’s humility allowed that to happen.

When he once gave a political speech in Yeshiva, he allowed his student (Hanan Porat), a leading Right Winger, to get up and take the podium immediately afterwards, to give a different perspective.

He believed that each person needed to find their truth. When asked by Shimon Peres what the political stance of Yeshivat Har Etzion was, he said the following:

Our stance has 3 principles.

First, that every problem of the nation must deeply bother every student.
Second, that the students must think about the problem carefully, long and hard, evaluating the arguments and implications to the full.
Third, we have no political stance – each student must make up their own mind.

The Crying Baby

No one can talk about Rav Amital without mentioning his famous story of the crying baby. It goes like this: While Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi was studying Torah, he heard the crying of his infant grandson. The elder rebbe rose from his studying and soothed the baby to sleep. Meanwhile, his son, the boy’s father, was too involved in his study to hear the baby cry. When R. Zalman noticed his son’s lack of involvement, he proclaimed, “If someone is studying Torah and fails to hear the cry of a Jewish baby, there is something very wrong with his learning.”

Rav Amital believed that everyone had a sense of mission to the Jewish people. That when the baby cried, one had to engage, to alleviate the pain. When they built the unconventional architectural structure of the Har Etzion Beit Midrash, the architect had planned the modern design without windows. Rav Amital insisted that the Yeshiva have big windows. Why? Because the Beit Midrash must be connected to the people, to Am Yisrael.

There was so much more to Rav Amital. His attachment to all of Am Yisrael. His beautiful, elevating tear-stained davening on the Yamim Noraim.

As was said at the funeral, Rav Amital was a wonderful fusion of idealism and pragmatism, of conservatism and change, of misnagdic intellectualism and hassidic-mysticism, of the Beit-Midrash and the needs of the nation. However, unlike the Brisker dialectic weighing and balancing the two perspectives and reaching some manner of resolution, Rav Amital’s moderation was visceral, seamless and spontaneous, rather than dialectical or intellectual. In this regard, I always saw his expertise and mastery of שו”תים – the Responsa literature – as a reflection of his connection to life, pragmatism, real people and their problems, rather than an inclination to theoretical scholarly ponderings.

There is so much that I owe him that it is difficult to describe. His ideas and students will live on. I am privileged to have studied with such a giant of the spirit, such a loving, God-fearing Rav, a true guide to the perplexing times in which we live.

 Ve-Chai Bahem – And You Shall Live by Them

By Yair Kahn

 When I was a student at YU, Rav Goren came and delivered a shiur to the yeshiva. He began with the Rambam (Hilkhot Yesodei Ha-Torah 5:1):

The entire house of Israel is commanded to sanctify the great and holy name… How so? If a gentile should arise and force a Jew to violate one of the Torah’s commandments or be killed, he should violate and not be killed, as it says [in reference to the mitzvot], “that man should do and live by them” (Vayikra 18:5) – live by them and not die by them.

Only in the following halakha does the Rambam codify the conditions whereby one must sacrifice one’s life in order to sanctify the name of God. Rav Goren questioned the order of these halakhot. After all, the Rambam is discussing the command to sanctify the name of God; shouldn’t he have begun with the cases in which we are commanded to sacrifice our lives to sanctify His name? Rav Goren concluded that the greatest sanctification of God’s name is achieved through life, not death.

When the German invasion was imminent, a group of friends in a small town in Hungary engaged in a passionate debate. One group, led by Yehoshua Hager (nephew of the Viznitzer Rebbe zt”l and half brother of Rav Lau shlit”a), claimed that they should run away and try to reach Eretz Yisrael. The second group, led by Yehuda Klein (who would later change his name to Amital), argued that the plan to run away was not realistic. The Germans were everywhere. “We should prepare ourselves to die in the sanctification of the name of Hashem.”  Yehoshua Hager, through his Viznitzer connections, escaped and was able to reach Eretz Yisrael. Yehuda Klein remained in Hungary and was sent to a labor camp. He managed to survive until the camp was liberated by Russian soldiers. Upon his liberation, even before the war had ended, Yehuda traveled to Israel, arriving by rail from the north. He immediately enrolled in the Chevron Yeshiva.

Once he went to visit the religious kibbutz of Kfar Etzion, south of Yerushalayim. There he met Yehoshua Hager. “Yehuda, is that you? You survived? You, who insisted that we die in the sanctification of the holy name?” he said angrily. He continued, “Yehuda, do you still believe? Did you remain religious?” Yehuda answered, “Had I lost my faith, would I have answers? Is it any simpler for one who is not religious?” In a televised symposium with the poet and partisan Abba Kovner, Rav Amital commented: “The questions posed by the Holocaust are much greater for one who doesn’t believe in God. What is left for him to believe in – humanity? Can one believe in humanity after the Holocaust, after what the Nazis and their cohorts did to the Jews?” Although he couldn’t explain the Shoah, Rav Amital’s faith was unshaken. Even during the dark days in the labor camps, he felt the presence of Hashem, even though he couldn’t understand the meaning of what was taking place.

After the terrible desecration of God’s name that took place on the national level during the Holocaust years, Rav Amital viewed the creation of the Jewish State, establishing Jewish sovereignty over Eretz Yisrael, as a national kiddush Hashem. (It should be noted that Rav Amital did not view this as an explanation for the Holocaust.) He dedicated his life to continuing the legacy of his teachers, passing on Torah to the next generation. He was a driving force and inspiration to the Religious Zionist camp in Israel. He wrote a guide to aid halakhic observance for soldiers serving in the army. He conceived the idea of “hesder” – combining army service with Torah studies. Following the Six Day War, he agreed to head a yeshivat hesder to be founded in the heart of the Etzion Bloc, a group of Jewish settlements south of Yerushalayim that were destroyed in 1948. Yeshivat Har Etzion was founded in 1968, and together with his co-Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Aharon Lichtenstein, Rav Amital built it into one of the more prominent and influential yeshivot in Israel.

Rav Amital’s focus, however, was not limited to the religious. He was concerned with all Jews, religious as well as non-religious. All Jews, dati and not dati, jointly participated in the establishment of Jewish sovereignty over Eretz Yisrael, and the kiddush Hashem of the Israeli State could be fully achieved only through unity. When Rav Amital noted a widening rift between the religious and secular camps in Israel, he began to act on the national level. He viewed religious legislation and coercion as counterproductive, and began to demand that the benefits of these policies be re-examined. He could not remain silent when Hashem’s name was desecrated in the wake of the Sabra-Shatilla massacre. When the religious right began attacking government policy and undermining its authority on politico-religious grounds, he was vocal in his opposition. When he noticed the rift between the religious right and the secular left growing deeper, he felt the need establish “Meimad,” a religious party that had moderate political policies and was in favor of religious-secular dialogue, as opposed to religious coercion. Rav Amital considered the assassination of Prime Minister Rabin at the hands of religious extremist Yigal Amir as a terrible desecration of Hashem’s name. He felt the divide between the religious right and secular left had reached critical proportions. As a result, he agreed to join the Peres government to try to heal the wound. He paid a high price, as he was censured strongly by many Religious Zionist leaders and was deserted by some of his own talmidim. Nevertheless, Rav Amital, always a man of conviction and courage, was not deterred. 

One of the more difficult aspects of serving as minister was being torn away from the yeshiva that he had created and that was so much part of his life. He came to the yeshiva regularly to deliver the shiur klali (the weekly lecture given to the entire yeshiva by the Rosh Yeshiva) when his turn came. When his term as minister ended, he was relieved to be able to return to his beit midrash as a regular Rosh Yeshiva.

He continued teaching Torah until he felt it was time to leave room for the next generation. Instead of appointing a successor, he nobly made room for an independent committee to make the best decision. Despite stepping down from duties as Rosh Yeshiva, he continued to travel from Yerushalayim to Gush Etzion to teach Torah for as long as his health allowed.

The above is a very brief sketch. It obviously cannot do justice to the complexity and greatness of Mori ve-Rabbi Ha-Rav Amital, hareini kaparat mishkavo. Nevertheless, let me sum up with a few points directly connected to the above.

Rav Amital was revered and loved by his talmidim, past and present. He was an inspiration by example in the beautiful relationship that existed between him and Mori ve-Rabbi Rav Lichtenstein shlit”a. The legacy he left included a burning love for Jews, all Jews, faith in Ha-Kadosh Barush Hu that survived unthinkable horrors, and a fiery desire that the name of Hashem should be sanctified through Jewish sovereignty over Eretz Yisrael, which can only be achieved through unity of the Jewish People.

No, Yehoshua – Rav Amital did not give up his life to sanctify the name of Hashem in the furnaces of Europe. Hashem saved Rav Amital and brought him to Israel, so that he could sanctify Hashem’s name throughout his life. Yehi zikhro barukh. 

“Understand the Years of Each Generation”:

A Eulogy for Mori ve-Rabbi Harav Yehuda Amital zt”l

 By Reuven Ziegler

                 About ten years ago, Rav Amital was handed a draft of a book someone had written about his thought.  I asked a person in the know what Rav Amital thought of it.  He said, “He didn’t like it, because it presented him as having changed his mind.”  He paused and added, “But then he changed his mind.”

                Another story: In 1995, I was present when Rav Amital told a gathering of the kollel that he did not feel women needed to study Talmud; his grandmother and mother had been very pious Jews without it.  A year or two later, he addressed a women’s learning program with the words, “You know, I used to think that Talmud study for women was unnecessary, but now I think it is absolutely essential!”  Soon afterwards, Yeshivat Har Etzion decided to open a women’s division in Migdal Oz, where Talmud study is a major part of the curriculum.  

               With Rav Amital, you never knew what he was going to say next.  Even into his 70’s and 80’s, he maintained his dynamism, continuing to consider matters afresh and never losing the capacity to surprise.  When the State of Israel turned 51 (and Rav Amital was 74), he told us that it was time to reconsider the meaning of malkhut Yisrael (Jewish sovereignty): we should stop thinking about in terms of security and nation-building, and start thinking about it in terms of establishing a dominion of justice and truth.  When he was 75, he was among the first to note and analyze the phenomenon of “new Chasidut” in the Religious Zionist community, and to formulate a detailed response.  When he turned 80, he said it was time for a different understanding of “reishit tzemichat ge’ulatenu.”

                Why was Rav Amital often so unpredictable?  I believe it was because he was so grounded in reality, in life as lived.  Abstractions don’t change; reality does.  If someone lives in the realm of abstractions, he need never change his positions.  But if a person has a feel for reality, for the shifting needs of individuals and society, he will sometimes need – if he is honest with himself and sufficiently courageous – to adjust his stand in light of changing circumstances and emerging trends.

                This characteristic accounts for Rav Amital’s special love and mastery of the responsa literature, a literature not so much of concepts or generalizations but of Halakha as applied in real circumstances at specific times and places.  This also explains why all his talks were peppered with stories, many of them regarding his own experiences – he viewed life through the prism of experience and not abstractions, and he valued his interactions with people. 

                His grounding in reality made him acutely sensitive to all forms of self-deception, such as escapist mysticism or taking on chumrot that are not appropriate to one’s spiritual level.  He also objected to forms of religiosity that removed one from reality, constricting life and closing one to the world and to broader society.

                Rav Amital’s grounding in reality and his sensitivity to shifting societal and historical trends often enabled him to foresee future developments and take timely action.  Probably his major historical contribution is formulating the idea of yeshivot hesder; he foresaw the need to strengthen the Religious Zionist community with a broad cadre of talmidei chakhamim, as well as to prevent alienation between yeshiva students and the state.  His sensitivity to emerging trends – the rising threat of Iran, the looming conflict over the Jewish character of Israel, the growing identification of Religious Zionism with militarism and the use of force, and the increasing alienation between different sectors in Israeli society and between Israel and the Diaspora – also led him (as far back as the 1980’s) to take unpopular stands on political issues and even to change his position when necessary. 

                Beyond his grounding in reality and his sensitivity to the present and the future, Rav Amital tried to give us, his talmidim, something invaluable, something that we could not have gained on our own: a sense of historical perspective.  He lived Jewish history; he embodied Jewish history.  He allowed us to see the miracle of the founding of the State of Israel through the eyes of someone who had gone from the depths of the Holocaust to fighting in the War of Independence, from the ingathering of the exiles to the tragedy of the Yom Kippur War.  Who can forget his electrifying reading the verses from Zekharia (8:4-6)?

Thus says the Lord of hosts: Old men and old women shall yet again dwell in the streets of Jerusalem, and every man with his staff in his hand because of his old age. And the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing in its streets. Thus says the Lord of hosts: If it will be wondrous in the eyes of the remnant of this nation in those days, it will also be wondrous in My eyes, says the Lord of hosts. 

What is so wondrous about old people sitting on benches and young children playing?  Yet not only is it “wondrous in the eyes of the remnant of this nation,” it is even “wondrous in My eyes, says the Lord of hosts”!   Only someone with historical perspective, someone who was a “remnant of this nation,” someone whose whole family – “old men and old women,” “boys and girls” – perished in Auschwitz, someone who prepared himself numerous times to die al kiddush Hashem, could convey the enormity and wonder of seeing old people and children living a normal life in the streets of Jerusalem.

                Rav Amital also used his historical perspective to give his students a sense of proportion.  On the one hand, seeing old people in Jerusalem is wondrous; on the other hand, no matter how bad things are now, they have been much, much worse.  And once you have some of Rav Amital’s sense of historical perspective, you cannot help but share his opposition to “achshavism” – the desire to have everything now, whether “Peace Now” or “Mashiach Now” or “Zbeng ve-gamarnu,” one big military operation that will solve all our problems.  In all areas of life – religious, social, educational, etc. – he had nothing but disdain for quick, easy, black-and-white solutions to complex problems.

                Rav Amital’s sense of perspective, proportion and grounding in reality all combined with a deep faith in his teachings on prayer.  He taught us that that prayer should be natural, like a conversation (“Va-yetze Yitzchak lasuach ba-sadeh”); that it defines man (who is called a “mav’eh” in the mishna in Bava Kama); that it is a necessity for man; that it is a sublime pleasure.  He was realistic about prayer: he taught that there is value even to rote prayer, and that kavvana is elusive.  He liked to recount that when the students of the Baal Shem Tov asked him how they could know whether a certain person was a true tzaddik or a charlatan, the Besht answered: “Ask him whether he has a segula against foreign thoughts intruding on prayer.  If he says yes, you can be sure he is a charlatan.” 

               Yet even though Rav Amital was opposed to all kinds of segulot, shortcuts and magic solutions, he wisely suggested a technique for dealing with foreign thoughts: “You must translate the problem which occupies your thoughts into the language of prayer. Whether you are thinking about business or family or anything else, God is certainly able to help you in solving the problem. Don’t banish this ‘foreign thought’ from your mind; on the contrary – keep it with you, and turn that very thought into a prayer.”

              Yet what we learned most of all from Rav Amital was the power of prayer – not when he talked about it, but when he served as sheliach tzibbur for Selichot and Yamim Noraim.  You could not listen to him without realizing that he wasn’t praying for himself; he was pleading with God to have mercy on Am Yisrael.  It wasn’t the tunes or his pleasant voice that swept up the tzibbur; it was his genuineness, sincerity and authenticity.  His prayers swelled up from the depths of his heart, and found their way into the hearts of his talmidim.

              Rav Amital’s love of prayer and song, his frequent recourse to Chasidic tales and teachings, his humility and directness, his love for “simple Jews,” his warm and outgoing nature – all these led people to characterize him as a Chasid.  If so, what kind of Chasid was he?  Even if he emulated the ahavat Yisrael of R. Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, the psychological sensitivity of R. Avraham Yehoshua Heschel of Apta, the intellectualism of Chabad, and the depth of R. Tzadok, I think that his Chasidut was closest to Kotzk. 

             Like the Kotzker Rebbe, Rav Amital cherished truth above all and had a visceral, almost allergic, reaction against pretense and hypocrisy.  (It is no coincidence that the song talmidim associate with him most closely is “Ve-taher libenu le-ovdekha be-emet,” Purify our hearts to serve You in truth.)  Like the Kotzker Chasidim, about whom it was said that they performed mitzvot in private but not in public, he disdained external displays of piety.  He felt such forms of “chitzoniyut” were tainted with the desire for public acclaim but lacked inner authenticity; they were like writing checks without sufficient funds to cover them. 

             The Kotzker Rebbe, furthermore, provided a cornerstone of Rav Amital’s educational philosophy.  Commenting on the verse, “And you shall be holy people to me” (Shemot 22:6), the Kotzker explained: “God, as it were, is saying here: Angels I have in sufficient quantity; I am looking for human beings who will be holy people.”

             Like the Kotzker, Rav Amital was always pithy and could also be sharp at times.  When his daughter asked him why throngs of people came for advice to a certain rabbi and not to him, he answered, “Ka-nireh she-ani lo zakuk le-zeh” (Apparently, I don’t need it).  This also reveals another similarity: like the Kotzker, he did not want to be a rebbe.  Even though he was overflowing with charisma, he did not want students to be dependent on him or to imitate him; he wanted them to think for themselves; he wanted them to be themselves.  (This, I believe, is one of the reasons he lived in Jerusalem and not in Alon Shevut: had he lived near the yeshiva, students would have knocked at his door at all hours of the day and made him into a rebbe.)

             Although Rav Amital taught Chasidut long before it was popular in the Religious Zionist world, and although he had certain Chasidic tendencies, he had mixed feelings, as mentioned above, regarding the recent “neo-Chasidic” trend in Religious Zionist circles.  Although he acknowledged that it expressed a legitimate critique of contemporary religiosity, and that it was driven by a desire for authenticity, he also felt that it often devolved into a form of spiritual thrill-seeking that ignored the needs of society and lacked a firm commitment to mitzvot.  Rav Amital frequently quoted a lost midrash cited in the introduction to Ein Yaakov: the most encompassing principle of the Torah, the cornerstone of Judaism, is not “Shema Yisrael” nor “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” but rather “You shall bring one lamb in the morning and one lamb in the evening.”  The daily sacrifice, the routine of commandments, normal life and not peak experiences – these are the foundations of religious existence.

              This emphasis on daily sacrifice leads us to one of his most central teachings: “Ein patentim.”  There are no shortcuts, no tricks, no magic solutions in religious existence, in education, or in any other area of life.  There is just hard work and commitment to slow, gradual improvement.  Yet even though he emphasized the importance of routine and of incremental change, he often found the poetry within the prose, and one could sense the sweetness, beauty, freshness and newness that suffused his Torah and his mitzva observance.

                The word that most often comes to mind when I think of Rav Amital is wisdom.  I don’t mean that he was smart (though he was very, very smart); I mean that he was wise.  He understood life, he understood people, he saw several steps ahead, he considered consequences, and he saw the big picture.  For example, he advised a couple who wanted to start keeping mitzvot to follow the model of the three mitzvot given to the Jews at Mara, before they reached Mt. Sinai (see Rashi, Shemot 15:25):

1) Shabbat: If it is too hard to be a Jew seven days a week, then try at least one day a week.

2) Honoring parents: Pick any mitzva bein adam le-chavero and observe it scrupulously.  It is important to stress that Halakha does not relate only to matters between man and God, but also legislates interpersonal ethics.

3) Para aduma: Choose a mitzva you don’t understand and observe it as well.  One must realize that despite all the rationales behind the mitzvot, ultimately we cannot understand everything and we do not base our observance only on our rational appreciation of the mitzvot.

              Of course, his wisdom is clearly manifested in two of his most startling and far-sighted decisions: inviting Rav Lichtenstein to serve as rosh yeshiva and appointing his successors before his retirement.  The first made his yeshiva into what it is; the second ensured its continuity.  By bringing in a rosh yeshiva so different from himself, Rav Amital ensured that his students would learn to see the merits of differing positions, to think broadly and with complexity.  This is also the reason he declared that although the writings of Chabad, R. Nachman of Breslov and R. Kook would be taught in yeshiva, they would not be taught by “chasidim” of these approaches, since the latter tended to believe that their way is the exclusive truth and all other approaches are less legitimate.

                When I sat down to make a list of the characteristics, ideas and divrei Torah of Rav Amital I wanted to mention in this essay, my list grew within minutes to an unmanageable length.  (I gave up after I reached 56 points.)  Rav Amital was such a broad and multifaceted person that I cannot hope to paint a comprehensive portrait.  I have barely touched on his qualities as a lamdan, posek, leader, or master communicator; nor on his commitment to morality, menschlichkeit, kiddush Hashem, and common sense; nor on his ahavat ha-Torah, yirat Shamayim, and yearning for devekut; nor on his harmonious integration of openness and conservatism, vision and pragmatism, simplicity and greatness.  The composite portrait painted by his students, colleagues, family members and admirers in their eulogies will round out the picture.

                When speaking of Rav Amital, I must conclude with something related to parashat ha-shavua.  In a sicha on parashat Devarim, Rav Amital asked why Moshe’s speech is prefaced by such a lengthy description of its exact place (“in the desert, facing Suf, between Paran and Tofel and Lavan and Chatzerot and Di-Zahav”), time (“in the fortieth year, in the eleventh month, on the first day of the month”), and historical circumstances (“after he had slain Sichon, king of the Emorites, who dwelled in Cheshbon, and Og, king of Bashan, who dwelled in Ashtarot in Edre’i”).  He answered that the Torah wishes to teach us that “When a person involves himself in Torah and mitzvot, he must never allow himself to be cut off from the place and time in which he exists. He must look around and think how best to apply his Torah learning to the circumstances around him.”

                Rav Amital was animated by the sense that the Torah is relevant to each generation.  The poles for carrying the Ark of the Covenant were never to be removed, he explained, in order to symbolize the Torah’s portability, its relevance under all circumstances.  In this context (as in many others), he quoted the Chiddushei ha-Rim’s comment on the verse “Understand the years of each generation” (Devarim 32:7): Every generation is granted a new understanding of the Torah, one that is appropriate to the generation and necessary to address its challenges.  It is the function of the tzaddik in each generation to uncover this understanding and teach it to his generation. 

                Nothing could better summarize Rav Amital’s mission and accomplishment.

Endnotes to N. Helfgot’s Essay:

[1]    Cited in M. Maya, A World Built, Destroyed, and Rebuilt (Alon Shvut, 2005), trans. Kaeren Fish, pp. 147-148.

[2]  Ibid., p 41.

[3] Ibid., p. 42.

[4]  “The Status of Secular Jews,” Tradition, 1989

[5]  Orot, pp. 196-197 in the English edition, trans. Bezalel Naor (New Jersey, 1993).

[6] Rav Amital later broke with Rav Tzvi Yehuda regarding issues of territorial compromise, Rav Tzvi Yehuda’s insistence on viewing the present State of Israel in messianic terms, as well as his focus on the view of Nahmanides on the mitzvah of settling the land of Israel.

[7]        Cited in A World Built, Destroyed and Rebuilt, pg. 67-68.

[8]        “The Significance of Rav Kook’s Teaching for Our Generation,” in The World of Rav Kook’s Thought (Avi Chai, 1991), trans. S. Carmy and B. Casper from the Hebrew Yovel Orot, eds. B. Ish Shalom, S. Rosenberg, pp. 425-426.

[9]        Leaves of Faith, Vol. 1, pp. 169-170.

He left a legacy of important and seminal essays as well as a number of outstanding disciples, themselves today leading Bible scholars including, Dr. Barry Eichler, Dr. Shnayer Leiman, Dr. Richard Steiner, and many more who continue to enrich our learning and understanding of the Bible and its interpretation.

Yehi Zihro Barukh

I have basically presented the remarks as they were delivered in the context of a short oral presentation.

Nati Helfgot 
 

Sunday, April 25, 2010 
 

I approach this topic from the following perspective. Women’s expanded role in Jewish learning, communal life and leadership is a blessed event in Judaism and in our life-time. From my theological perspective it is very much part of the process of God acting in history,  in the spirit of Rav Kook zt”l’s perspective of how various movements in history unfold and often contribute to the world and ultimate goals. Many movements and developments bring forth positive ideas and elements, even as they present us with tremendous challenges and negative elements as well. 

In addition I adhere fully to the Rav zt”l’s famous 14^th ani-maamin about Torah Judaism being able to exist in every society and context, without having to retreat and be a ”sect,” or existing only in the social realities of the ghetto or closed off from the world. 

The discussions we are having here are about the proper role of qualified and talented women to fulfill various clergy-like functions (a reality that a handful of RCA shuls are already doing in various capacities, whatever the title that is being given to the women undertaking those roles and responsibilities). These women are or will be assuming these roles in areas of  pastoral counseling, teaching of Torah, responding to halakhic queries, giving of divrei Torah and derashot in various capacities and in some instances engaging in coordinating and directing life-cycle events - while remaining faithful to those limits that halakha sets, e.g. speaking under the huppah, reading the ketubah, arranging all the technical matters of the siddur kiddushin while at the same time  not reciting birkot eirusin or birkot ha-nissuim.) 

In our ranks there are minimalists and maximalists on the propriety of these roles and actions. Most of the people who have discussed this issue in print or in e-mails have as a general rule tended not to raise questions about technical halakhic categories but other more amorphous issues of meta-halakha, tradition, sociology, tactics, etc.  

My general inclination in these matters is on the side of the maximalists –  i.e. in favor of expanding the opportunities for and encouraging talented and qualified women to be able to fulfill their desire to serve the Jewish community and Torah - for the following five reasons: 

•  
  1. We often speak at conferences and write in monographs about the significant personnel crisis in recruiting good people, especially outside of New York, to enter the field of Jewish education, the rabbinate, Jewish communal work and the like. To close off possibilities, which are not in violation of halakhic parameters, for more amorphous reasons, is to shoot ourselves in the foot. There are so many talented young women coming up the ranks that we cannot simply ignore this talented pool some of whom can contribute so mightily to ahavat Hashem and harbatzat Torah and serve as role models for our young women and girls and boys.
  2. The entry of more women into the various fields of avodat ha-kodesh can bring about positive expansion and help in dealing with various parts of our community who we are not always as sensitive to. Having women more involved in may help bring issues to the fore in our congregational and halakhic discussions that we might not have been sensitive to before. A useful analogy here maybe to compare our situation to the field of medicine and the impact that the entry of women into the field has had. Before women were involved in the practice of medicine in large numbers, many medical studies simply ignored areas of disease research that women were particularly affected by, or did not include women in the sample when testing new medications, etc. They were simply not part of the conversation and issues and important data were simply not brought to the fore. In a similar vein, but closer to home, many of us are active supporters of programs like Kollel Eretz Hemdah in Israel that attempt to train dayanim (rabbinical court judges) who come from a more dati-leumi (religious-Zionist) background, who have served in the army, etc… We feel that such personalities, who have different upbringing and training and world-view, will more likely have positive interactions with and appreciate the perspectives of the general Israeli public whom they will encounter than the average dayan trained in haredi institutions who comes from a totally different world. Having women involved in some capacity in the makeup of a full congregational panoply of staff can have similar meritorious effects.
  3. If indeed we believe that the issues surrounding greater involvement of women in clergy-like roles and functions is not really about formal halakhic limitations then we run some serious risks in limiting access. In the spirit of Rav Aharon Soloveitchik zt”l’s psak (halakhic ruling) on women saying kaddish, we run the risk of losing many talented women and potential contributors to the community to other fields and God forbid to Orthodoxy as a whole, if these opportunities are stifled or not encouraged.
  4. If one maintains that fundamentally inclusion of talented women in various roles in the synagogue is not really prohibited by formal halakha, but stems from our either our discomfort or more amorphous categories of minhag or hashakafic (ideological) concerns, we have to seriously confront the competing values that we may be treading on.

A strongly conservative (with a lower case “c”) stance on these issues runs the risk of ignoring primal values of Torah and halakha such as kevod haberiyot, tzelem elokim, derakheha darkei noam, ve-asita ha-yasar ve-hatov and general moral principles of fairness and justice. (This is besides recognizing the need to take into account other less central, but nonetheless important values such as “ la-asot nahat ruah le-nashim” which writers such as Rav Lichtenstein and Rav Sperber have pointed to in various fora.) 

If we truly believe (as many do) that the issues here are not explicitly halakhic, then we have to really look in the mirror and ask ourselves these hard questions about justice and ethics and the right thing to do. As Rav Lichtenstein has so eloquently written (in an essay in Hebrew) on the sources of ethics: 

“the parameters of ethics and morality and its truths have an important role to play in understanding halakha and defining its boundaries. Of course, a Jew must be ready to answer the call “I am here” if the command “tro offer him up” is thrust upon him. However, prior to unsheathing the sword, he is permitted, and even obligated to clarify, to the best of his ability, if indeed , this is what actually has been commanded. Is the command so clear-cut and is the collision of values indeed so frontal and unavoidable. To the extent that there is a need and room for halakhic exegesis and this must be clarified-a sensitive and and insightful conscience (my bold, NH) is one of the factors that shape the decision making process. Just as Maimoidnes in his day, consciously, was assisted by a particular metaphysical approach to the world (Aristotilean thought, NH) in order to plumb the depths of the meaning of Biblical verses, so too one can make use of an ethical perspective in order to understand the content of halakha and to outline its parameters. Clearly this process requires extreme care and responsibility. It must be assured that-and this rooted in deep connection to authentic Torah and religious piety-one is attempting to understand the halakha and not God forbid to distort it.”¹   

If the ethical and moral dimension must be part of the shikul ha-daat is true when addressing questions of pure halakha, how much more so in areas that are much more related to hashkafah, meta-halakhic and tactical categories of discussion.                                     

        5. There is a grave danger if we are excessively conservative here on the perception of our own baalei battim and the broader community and the general kevod ha-Torah. In many of the discussions over the years on “women’s issues” some rabbanim and writers who viewed expanding women’s roles with a jaundiced eye have often raised questions about motivations and whether the people were le-sheim Shamayim etc. In recent years I believe that has died down. As Rav Lichtenstein noted a few years ago in a derasha, he never felt comfortable with those attacks on people and women who pushed for those innovations because what is good for the goose is also good for the gander. It very easily opens one up to charges about one’s own motivations. Continued rejection of expanded roles for women in the synagogue context without real halakhic grounds can unfortunately lead people to conclusions (which one hears already in the Modern-Orthodox “street”) about rabbis who have discomfort with opening their “guild” to new members, that we are concerned with power, misogyny etc. Let me be clear here, I am emphatically not saying that this is the motivation for those who are more conservative, but one opens oneself and institutional Orthodoxy to that kind of attack. This potential, is, I think is very detrimental to the future of Torah and yiddishkeit and is a real and present danger.

As Rav Ovadyah Yosef wrote in his teshuvah on Bat Mitzvah ceremonies (Yabiah Omer 6:29) in discussing those who were opposed to them because it would give support to the reform and anti-Torah forces by confirming them in their practices, he states just the opposite:

             “But in  truth, preventing girls from celebrating bat mitzvah ceremonies, strengthens the hand of the sinners to complain against the scholars of Israel (hakhmei yisrael), (to say) that they oppress the daughters of Israel, and discriminate between boys and girls.”

I would like to commend my colleagues and friends, Rabbis Brody, Klapper (here and here) and Rothstein (here and here) for their stimulating and substantive posts in the last few weeks, partially in reaction to my original post on two halakhic issues that have been raised regarding the issue of expanding women’s roles in communal and spiritual leadership in the Modern-Orthodox community. They are a model of how these issues should be discussed, i.e with sober reflection, dignity and respectful interaction.

Below are some comments on their postings.

1. R. Rothstein begins the process of sharing with the public his attempt to tease out some conception of the nature of “traditional Jewish womanhood” as “constructed internally from the sources”.  As R. Rothstein notes at the end of his piece he does not leave us with a finished product and clear outline of what “womanhood” looks like. He does feel, if I am reading correctly, that he has delineated key areas in traditional sources both from the Torah, Biblical law as explicated in the Oral law, and purely rabbinic law as codified in the halakha, which must be central to the discussion. And if I read him correctly, he points us in a specific direction that leans heavily toward a more traditional conception of women’s role in Judaism. He offers some tentative thoughts on what these sources imply but leaves us with a recognition that much more work needs to be done.
2. R. Rothstein at the beginning of his essay argues that some of his interlocutors reject the notion of taamei hamitzvot or that halakha has a telos in which the mitzvot attempt to direct us to behave and act in certain ways, become certain kinds of people and adopt certain ways of viewing the world. I cannot speak for others, but I certainly am a devotee of these exact notions and often have bemoaned that in much of the Orthodox community (both to the right and to the left) the halakhic system is perceived as a type of obstacle course that one must “get through” in life. I fully subscribe to the notion of the halakha as having meaning and purpose and telelogical goals that God is trying to convey to us. Indeed, these are some of the fundamental lessons I learned directly and from the writings of my teachers, shul rabbis, and colleagues such as the Rav zt”l, Prof. Eliezer Berkovits z”l, and yebadel lechaim tovim vearulim, Dr. Norman Lamm, R. Shlom Riskin, R. Saul Berman, R. Avi Weiss, and mori verabi, Rav Yehuda Amital and mori verabi, Rav Aharon Lichtenstein. The question is not therefore whether one accepts the notion of telos and goals but a) if one can always figure out the “unequivocal” nature of that message and goal or b) if there are sometimes conflicting messages and goals in one area itself that express itself in dialectical tension and nuance.
3. R. Rothstein surprised me by beginning his attempt to tease out the nature of “traditional Jewish womanhood” by immediately jumping to the distinction between men and women that emerges from the rabbinic exemption from certain time bound commandments. I believe that any discussion of womanhood must begin at the beginning and that is that each person, both male and female, was created in the image of God (Gen. 1) and that each person stands before God as a metzuveh  (Gen 2). That is, every human being, male or female, is endowed with the whole range of talents and abilities that come under the rubric of tzelem elokim including the capacity to think, to reason, to create, to conquer (in the best sense of the word) to achieve and to follow in God’s ways.

Secondly, every human being stands as a commanded being before the Almighty where avodat Hashem has to be central to their very being and purpose in life. This all has to come at the beginning before any discussion of distinctions, role differentiations or differences. R. Rothstein makes passing reference to Nehama Leibowitz zt”l. One of Nehama’s favorite comments in all of parshanut (she would come back to it over and over in her sheets and in classes) was the profound words of R. Isaac Arama commenting on Rachel’s complaint to Jacob that she was barren and Jacob’s rebuke to her, that women have two names in the Bible: Isha (derived from Ish) and Eve indicating the primary purpose which is to stress that “like man you may understand and advance in the intellectual and moral realm” while the role aspect of the woman as childbearer and nurturer of the family is the “secondary purpose”. Before we speak of distinctions we need to begin at square one.

4. R. Rothstein rightly notes many of the halakhic areas where men and women are distinct, including the area of marriage law: “while women are required by the Torah to make a commitment to one man…a man could marry several women”. R. Rothstein continues to speak about the reality that according to Torah law only men can initiate divorce. He then goes on to consider other aspects of the stark differences in halakah between men’s ability to play certain ritual and political roles from which women are excluded such as the priesthood and the monarchy.

 R. Rothstein, however, leaves out any discussion of the halakhic reality and sources that indicate that in some areas of ritual, marriage, and inheritance law, biblical and especially rabbinic norms (which R. Rothstein has included in his discussions as indicative of the meta-values of the system) clearly moved in the direction of narrowing some of the gaps between men and women. These include the Biblical recording of the bnot tzlofchad episode indicating God’s recognition of the need to tweak the inheritance laws; the various statements and takanot of Hazal in they which they spoke of “shakdu hakhamim al takanot bnot Yisrael”, “mishum igun akilu bei rabbanan”; the halakha that they permitted women to do semichat hakorban in the Temple-laasot nachat ruah lanashim; the limitations on polygamy and unilateral divorce by men codified by Rabbeinu Gershon etc… Hazal and the Rishonim seem to have been balancing certain clear distinctions that are inherent in the Torah legislation with other Torah values and principles that needed to be brought to the fore.  These Torah values appear to include the desire to protect the dignity of the woman, kevod haberiyot, the view that the ideal marriage relationship is one of “vehayu lebasar echod” and other meta-halakhic values.

        It is interesting to note that on the very topic of marriage and the fact that men can marry several women, R. Nachum Rabinovitch, the Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Birkat Moshe in Maaleh Adumim (who R. Rothstein cites in a different part of his essay) has written that the sharp distinctions that are evidenced in Torah law such as that men can marry more than one wife are actually not the Torah ideal. The Torah ideal is reflected in the original Torah value of “they shall become like one flesh”m (Gen. 2) which bespeaks a more equal relationship. The various laws of the Torah that permit divorce and polygamy, etc.., are reflective of the realities and the slow evolution of transforming the nature of human reality and society in a more positive way. In R. Rabinovits reading, the rabbinic legislation of Rabbeinu Gershom eliminating polygamy and restricting the man’s ability to unilaterally initiate divorce in most instances:

 advanced the values already determined in Scripture [of a permanent covenant between husband and wife]. In the biblical era, however, the time was not yet ripe, and people were not yet ready, for the full realization for the full realization of that vision. Only over time, as a result of a life of training in the life of the Torah, were people’s hearts made ready and did it become possible to draw closer to the goal established by the Torah (Darkah Shel Torah, (Hebrew), Edah Journal 3:1, pg.8).

 This approach is consistent with much of the thought of Rav Kook zt”l in some of his writings on war and ethics, the writings of Prof, Eliezer Berkovits, and the recently published essay by Dr. Norman Lamm where he speaks of the reality of an “developing halakhic morality.”  In that essay, R. Lamm presents a nuanced theory about a developing morality that is based on rediscovering Biblical and halakhic values

that were always there in the inner folds of the Bilbical texts and halakhic traditions… That is whereas we cannot create a new morality to oppose the Biblical one, we most certainly are free to exercise our judgment and experience in searching out authority in Biblical and rabbinic traditions to identify elements in Judaism that support a limitation of or alternative to the original doctrine…we are free, indeed compelled to use our creative moral and halakhic reasoning to reveal the latent moral judgments of the Torah that may contradict what we have previously accepted as the only doctrine of the Torah. For instance, in the case of slavery, the opposing principle of ki avadei heim, that all humans are the servants of the Creator, and hence we must discourage slavery…The choice before us , in such cases, is the tension between the Torah’s explicit legislation versus the Torah’s implicit value system” (War and Peace in the Jewish Tradition, pg. 226-227).

In our context, while the Torah and halakha clearly rejects a total egalitarian ethos, the tensile balance between explicit distinctions and the ethos of recognition of the spiritual desires, needs, and personhood of women as halakhic and Torah values are part of how the system works through competing religious desirata in various eras. Thus the notion that we have clear, unequivocal guidance on any specific current hot-button issue is far from clear to me. The reality is that in evaluating any “innovation” or move, especially when we are not dealing with strict halakha, the pulls and tugs of the various meta-values inherent in the system, e.g. gender and role distinctions and “mesorah” versus desire to enhance people’s avodat Hashem, human dignity and tzelem elokim, nahat rua, etc…, will need to be carefully weighed and considered, with the real possibility that people of good will emerge with differing conclusions. (And that is before one even gets to the sociological and political dimension of any question, which may effect any decision as well.) 

5. Given these remarks, while I was fascinated by R. Klapper’s analysis of my original essay, I do not concur with his assessment of my view of the halakhot that contain distinctions between men and women as hukkim.  I believe that there are many competing meta-values and societal goals that the Torah and halakha wanted to achieve, some eternal, some societally conditioned, but ones that contain dialectical elements and competing values that need to be taken into account in any full-fledged evaluation of any of these critical issues.[1]  

I.

During the last half century the movement towards greater public, educational, economic, and political roles for women in general society has slowly  affected the reality of Jewish and more specifically, for our purposes, Orthodox society. This has created a sea change in the role of women in the Orthodox and especially Modern-Orthodox society. The universal access to growing levels of Torah education, the desire to play a more prominent role in synagogue life-both organizationally and spiritually, the quest for deeper connections to God and his service-avodat Hashem, the rise of feminism and a whole host of sociological factors have changed the landscape from anything our grandmothers and great grandmothers would have recognized as normative.

Together with many of these developments (which I, and I would guess most readers of this blog, believe have been extremely positive), vigorous debates (some more contentious, others less so) over this or that innovation or evolution have been part of the discussion both in rabbinic and lay circles. If we just made a random list of issues under this rubric that have emerged in the last 50 years we might include:

Advanced Institutional Talmud study for women beyond high school; bat mitzvot for girls both inside and outside the shul; women saying kaddish in shul; women’s hakafot on Simchat Torah; women speaking at a family simcha in public; taking the sefer Torah into the women’s section for the processional after hotza’at sefer Torah; women’s tefillah groups; women writing and publishing hiddushei Torah in Torah journals; women reading megillat Esther for other women; women reading megillat Esther for a mixed gender group; women speaking under the huppah at a wedding; women reading the ketubah at a wedding; including the  names of the matriarchs in the preamble to the text of the mi-shebeirakh for sick people on Shabbat, To’anot rabbaniyot in religious court proceedings, women serving on boards of shuls, yoetzot halakha in areas of Hilkhot Niddah, women serving a presidents of shuls, women receiving aliyot and reading the Torah in a mehitza minyan with 10 men, women serving on religious councils in Israel, women teaching Talmud in a co-ed school and the list goes on.

The latest round in this broader canvas of debates about the approach of modern Orthodoxy to the role of women in its ritual, educational, spiritual and communal life has focused on the issues of learned Orthodox women receiving some form of rabbinic ordination. This has been coupled with teasing out the appropriate parameters of women serving as spiritual leaders in synagogues, in some way equivalent to male rabbis (without that actual title being used).  Those in favor of pushing the frontiers forward on substance and titles have made it clear that they accept the limitations of the restrictions of normative halakha, such as women as not being able to lead the congregation in hazarat hashatz or serving as a witness for a kiddushin at a marriage ceremony.

However, beyond those restrictions, the question at the center is: Can Orthodox women serve as spiritual leaders of congregations and fulfill the pastoral, educational, organizational, moreh Horaah, and communal leadership roles that are the major part of the job description of the average Modern-Orthodox rabbi?

II. 

The purpose of this essay is to briefly examine two of the major halakhic issues that have been raised in opposition to such a move and their cogency. As in all matters of substance, before one can discuss any other factors to be examined, the committed Jew must explore the halakhic dimension of the issue.

  But first two caveats so that my viewpoint on this is crystal clear.

1. It is clear to me that many scholars and lay-people have strongly held views on the analysis of the halakhic material examined that runs counter to my general direction below. (See for example a more elaborate discussion of those views in R. J. David Bleich, Contemporary Halakhic Problems, Vol. 2, pgs. 254 and on [Ed Note:  See also this link.]). My point below is simply to outline the legitimacy of certain perspective, not to argue that it is accepted by all.

2. As I hope to demonstrate, I do not believe the major issue here is ultimately halakhic.  It rather touches more on very emotional, sociological and political self-definitions relating to what have been perceived for 30-40 years as “boundary” issues between Orthodoxy and non-Orthodox movements within Judaism.¹

 3.In addition, it touches on sensitive policy questions of how best to achieve legitimate evolutions within the halakhic body politic that will be sustained and widely accepted without causing undue divisiveness. My own view, which I have expressed elsewhere, is that taking into account the practical sociological-communal realities, a move perceived at ordaining women at the present moment is premature. It probably should wait for more learned women to take up para-clergy roles in shuls, schools and the community. This will eventually create a communal context for a richer, calmer discussion in future years. As time passes there will be more receptivity to opening up more to areas of spiritual leadership for women.

 4. At the same time, it is clear to me that other people of good will, sincerity, and great devotion to the Jewish people and Torah values can have differing views from mine. They sincerely contend that if there is no substantive halakhic problem that the time is now to forge ahead. My view is that such positions certainly do not render one “outside” of Orthodoxy or halakha, though I would disagree with the shikul haddat and decision in that direction.

III.

1. The most substantive halakhic argument generally put forward against women receiving some form of rabbinic ordination and serving as spiritual leaders in synagogues is the import of Maimonides’ famous ruling on serarah.  Maimonides, in Hilkhot Melakhim 1:5 maintains that not only are women excluded from serving as king in a halakhic state, but all positions of serarah-communal authority are barred to women. Many commentators have noted is that it is difficult to find an explicit source in our standard texts of midrashei halakha and Talmud for this far reaching position.[1] Indeed, as many halakhic scholars of the past and present (e.g. Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, Igrot Moshe, YD II:44) have noted, Maimonides’ position seems to be rejected by a good number of rishonim and is not cited as normative halakha in subsequent halakhic codes such as the Shulhan Arukh.

2. If one were still to desire to be cognizant and careful to work within the parameters of Maimonides, it is still incumbent upon us to clarify what exactly is included under the rubric of serarah. Should it be understood broadly to refer to almost any communal position of authority or status, whether it involves an appointment by fiat or an elected position, as well as whether it involves coercive power or not? Many rabbinic scholars, especially amongst some of the aharonim have taken that expansive point of view. They, therefore, would feel that almost any appointment of communal authority should be barred to women. In this paradigm a woman serving as president of a shul or as a rabbi of a synagogue would raise halakhic problems.[2]

      Other rabbinic scholars, however, have taken a much more limited reading of the Rambam and maintain that the definition of communal serarah (and thus the subsequent restriction) should be limited to those communal positions of authority that truly mimic the kingship model. In this paradigm only positions that are imposed on the populace with some absolute powers would fall under the Rambam’s categories of serarah. In this paradigm a rabbi of a synagogue who is hired by an election, and fired at the will of the congregation and board would clearly not fall into the category of some inappropriate position of authority even according to Maimonides. Other rabbinic scholars of note have also pointed to the concept of kaballah, of communal acceptance of a woman as obviating the restriction of the Rambam in the view of a number of rishonim. Many significant Modern-Orthodox poskim (though not all) have certainly taken that position over the last century on issues such as permitting women’s suffrage and election to serve in high office or as the president of a shul or a member of a religious council.  Indeed, to my knowledge, over the last decades a number of women have served in the position of president of their synagogues (a number affiliated with the Orthodox Union) without any formal objection.

       Mori verabi, Rav Aharon Lichtenstein, in a conversation with former students currently serving in the rabbinate and Jewish education, recently (December, 2009) discussed this halakhic issue. He pointedly noted that it is clear that the Dati-Leumi/Modern-Orthodox community and its rabbinic elite² have clearly come down in favor of a more narrow reading of the Rambam’s restriction. He pointed to the fact that for the last two decades religious women have run as candidates of Dati-Leumi religious parties across the board, for Knesset, and some have served as members of parliament. In addition, a few have served as ministers in the coalition governments with the approval (despite an occasional rumble here and there) of the rabbinic leadership of those parties. These have included scholars such as R. Avraham Shapira zt”l, R. Mordechai Eliyahu (may he have a refuah shelimah), Rav Yaakov Ariel and others.³

       R. Lichtenstein stated that clearly a member of parliament and certainly a government minister is often involved in coercive legislation or votes on budgets involving tens of millions of shekels or issues of war and peace. This position is clearly more of a serarah than any shul rabbi or president.  He thus felt that certainly in Israel, the Modern-Orthodox community has taken the position that the expansive reading of the Rambam, limiting women’s roles, is not the normative ruling.

IV.

 In this context, I would also add a question of halakhic methodology and consistency that needs to be examined in this (and many other halakhic) issue. There are many communal voices who despite the existence of opinions against the Rambam’s view or severely restricting its contemporary application take the position that we should be mahmir for the shitat ha-Rambam.

Here it has always struck me as odd why on this specific issue is the “Rambam’s position” the only one that should be entertained communally?

 There are many other opinions of the Rambam, some of them quite central to his world-view that much of the Orthodox community seems to have no problem in neutralizing or ignoring because other views exist.  In many cases the sociological realities pressed us to be lenient and to consider other countervailing factors and values.

For example:

A) Many of the communal rabbis or activists who authoritatively cite the Rambam on serarah do not hesitate to allow their communities to use the standard communal eruvin, both in their local neighborhoods and all over the world.  According to shitat ha-Rambam almost all our eruvin are not kosher as they have more than a ten amot gap between eruv posts.  This communal practice, approved by the rabbis, involves weekly instances of thousands upon thousands of acts of hillul Shabbat (albeit rabbinic in nature in most instances).

 B) Rambam maintains that receiving money for learning Torah is a violation of Hillul Hashem (the worst sin possible in the Rambam’s hierarchy of sin in Hilkhot Teshuvah).

Yet the Hareidi, Modern-Orthodox, Dati-Leumi, and Hardal worlds not only neutralize the binding nature of this Rambam, but trumpet the existence of various kollelim as the pinnacle of their educational infrastructure!

C) Rambam maintains that praying to angels or intermediaries is a violation of one of the thirteen  Principles of Faith for which one loses his or her portion in the World to Come and is defined as a heretic. Yet many communities in the Orthodox world, both Hareidi and Modern, continue to incorporate numerous passages in the liturgy of the synagogue that Rambam would say borders, if not outright violates, that principle. We are speaking here of a safeik de-oraita on a violation of a principle of faith-an ikkar of emunah. Yet, despite the gravity of the issue at stake there is no sense of being mahmir for the Rambam!.

There are myriads of more halakhic issues that one can cite but the point is clear.

In all these instances, of course, there are other rishonim who take issue with Rambam, or there are aharonim who limit the Rambam and attempt to show even he would agree in this or that situation (sometimes more convincingly, sometimes much less so). In many instances, aharonim attempt to show that because of pressing need or another countervailing Torah value we need to be lenient and not only look to Rambam as dispositive. In a word, through the give and take of halakha and the analysis of the social realities and religious needs of the community, this or that Rambam does not become the final word in the living, practicing reality of the committed community. Thus, the simple statement that “we should be mahmir for shitat ha-Rambam” is far from simple. The question has to be evaluated on a much broader canvas of the potential countervailing  legitimate Torah needs, halakhic values and spiritual directions (e.g la’asot nahat ruah lenashim, greater increase in avodat Hashem, enhancement of Orthodoxy and kevod shyamayim,) that may point us to look to other views besides the restrictive reading of a Rambam.

(I would like to make it clear that this “halakhic inconsistency’ is not limited to those of a more “conservative” –with a small c – bent. The same occurs in the more “liberal” parts of the community who on occasion cite this or that view of a Hareidi posek without being consistent to his viewpoints in other areas. This is not always out of bounds. My point is simply that the idea that we simply need to follow “the Rambam” in this or any case requires a lot more honest discussion.)

IV.

The second halakhic issue that has been raised in some quarters is the notion of hikkuey haminim-imitating, confirming, or somehow strengthening the heterodox movements in their convictions and practices. This position maintains that in parallel to the explicit Biblical prohibition of imitating gentile practices (upon which there exists great halakhic debate as to its parameters) there exists a similar type of prohibition in imitating practices that originate in Jewish communities who are heretical in nature. In its simplest form it has been formulated by one Israeli rabbi as the prohibition to engage in action that are “domeh lareformim,” appear to mimic the practices of the reformers.  

I will treat the issue here briefly, as there is much less discussion of it in halakhic literature in comparison to the issue we discussed above.

  The concept of hikkuy haminim does not explicitly appear as a full blown halakhic category until the writings of the poskim in the 19^th and 20^th century. As some of them confronted the innovations of the Reform and Conservative movements and attempted to guide the Orthodox community[3], this issue was raised. One finds that mention of this category appears, often as one amongst a slew of reasons to oppose certain innovations in the Orthodox synagogue (it is rarely used alone), in the responsa of the Hatam Sofer, R. David Tzvi Hoffman, R. Yitzhak Herzog, and R. Yehiel Yaacov Weinberg, as well as in the more polemical writings of other rabbinical scholars.

1. First, it is far from clear if all rabbinic scholars even subscribe to the existence of this as a full fledged halakhic category. In many controversies surrounding various innovations throughout the last hundred years it is often not cited.
2. Secondly and more substantively, the problem with the use of this category (as has been candidly noted by some of its contemporary proponents) is the amorphous nature of the concept. It does not have clear–cut guidelines and parameters. If one examines the literature one discovers that this notion has been raised in the last two hundred years to forbid such phenomenon as rabbis speaking in the vernacular, bat mizvah ceremonies, use of organs in shuls during the weekdays, rabbis wearing canonical robes, male choirs in shuls and women’s tefillah groups. It is interesting to note that almost all of these innovations (excepting the organ) became quite accepted in Modern-Orthodox circles. They certainly have not caused synagogues and communities to be labeled non-Orthodox. And thus the use of this concept as a clear-cut halakhic proscription on women’s spiritual leadership is certainly open to question.

 Moreover, the notion of a formal “prohibition” in engaging in actions that confirm or support the heterodox in their innovations can easily yield differing conclusions entirely. For example, Rav Ovadyah Yosef in his famous responsum on the legitimacy of the Bat Mitzvah ceremony (Yabia Omer Vol. 6:29), does not cite the argument of hikkuy haminim directly to refute it. Instead he makes the following fascinating comment:

  “And in truth, preventing girls from celebrating bat mitzvah ceremonies, strengthens the hand of the sinners to complain against the scholars of Israel (hakhmei yisrael), (to say) that they oppress the daughters of Israel, and discriminate between boys and girls.”

 This argument actually serves as a counter weight to the notion that we are supporting the heterodox by imitating their practices.  In Rav Ovadyah’s analysis, in areas where the halakha does not prevent us from having equality of some type between the sexes, refusing to adopt that practice will be viewed as confirming the worst stereotypes about halakhic Judaism. One could easily see an argument in that direction for adopting semicha for women and women rabbis[4]  being proffered.  This is an issue where one constantly hears that if in fact there is no other substantive halakhic proscription against the move, it seems to discriminate unfairly against women. It very quickly can move to a confirmation of the heterodox attack on Judaism and bring people closer to those camps. (This is similar to the argument that Rav Aharon Soloveitchik zt”l proffered in relation to his advocacy of women saying kaddish.)[5]

As in so many of these other cases in which halakha, sociology, communal norms and comfort level mesh together, the issues will probably be decided on the ground by the committed community and its rabbinic leadership. It will not be decided by an ex-cathedra call to impose a highly amorphous category that has polemical weight and resonance but not the substantive halakhic force.                                                  

[2] According to this line of thinking, converts also would be excluded from many positions of communal authority and the rabbinate as the same derasha Maimonides’ cites in relation to women appears in relation to converts. This logic has radical implications and does not seem to have ever been adopted in Jewish practice. Many communal rabbis and leaders over the centuries have been converts without any opposition.

It is interesting to note that the Young Israel movement, in a move two years ago, has startlingly taken the explicit position, in writing, that converts may not serve as rabbis of its constituent synagogues! If one adopts that position, one may also question the practice of rabbinical schools and yeshivot throughout the world to grant semicha-rabbinic ordination to converts who may not serve in the capacity of communal rabbi, one of the main occupations (certainly in Modern-Orthodox circles) for those who receive semicha. If one argues that despite converts not being able to serve as rabbis they still should be allowed to receive ordination, that logic should hold true for those who argue that women should not receive ordination because a number of the functions of the rabbi, such as serving on a beit din are closed to them.

[3] A discussion far beyond the scope of this short essay is whether the entire terminology and halakhic categorization of minim in relation to contemporary heterodox movements is accepted by the entire swath of the Orthodox community and halakhic decisors.

[4] If one was convinced that there were no other halakhic impediments. It seems obvious to me that Rav Ovadyah would not allow for the violation of a real halakhic prohibition for achieving this goal.

[5] Just so that there is no misunderstanding:  I do not claim that this would be the position of Rav Ovadyah on women’s ordination. I simply have used his argument to show how someone might analyze the issue in that light.

1. This, I have found is especially true on a visceral level for people who grew up in Conservative homes and shuls and moved to Orthodoxy, in part, in reaction to the growing egalitarianism in that movement in the 1970-1990’s.
2. I would of course, included him in this category, though his modesty precluded him from mentioning himself in that vein
3. As a footnote, it should be noted that R. Lichtenstein’s own wife, Dr. Tovah Lichtenstein, ran for Knesset in 1988 as a candidate for the Meimad party headed then by Rav Yehdua Amital.

The midrashim on this short verse are quite expansive and have been examined in depth by academic scholars of midrash such as Yosef Heineman z”l, James Kugel, Avigdor Shinan and others.

I would like to add some reflections on the significance of this verse from a peshat perspective in terms of some of the grand arcs of the Exodus narrative. In addition to the explicit explanation given in the biblical text, there may also be at least four other ideas that are laying beneath the surface.

The entire narrative of the Israelite descent into Egypt begins, of course, with the descent of Joseph to Egypt, ve-Yoseif Hurad Mitzraymah (Ch. 39). Joseph’s descent into Egypt is prefaced by his original descent into a pit (and later in the narrative the dungeon in Egypt is called a pit as well). The descent into slavery continues with the new Pharoah of Egypt who does not “know of Joseph.” He, his nation, and their contribution are forgotten.  Thus, here in our parasha we close the circle. The “descent-yeridah” of Joseph is reversed and his bones- his person – is brought up, veha’alitem. The dead person who is often forgotten (see Kohelet and various Tehillim) here is pointedly remembered and engaged as a reversal of the initial movement of history. A version of this idea might also argue that there is an element of “repairing the damage”- the sin, that the brothers had done by creating the circumstances that brought Joseph down to Egypt. Now at the moment of redemption the people, represented by Moses, bring Joseph out of Egypt and sever the connection between Egypt and Israel that they had set into motion (see Daat Mikra on Exodus 13:19)

 The Bible in Parashat Bo informs us that there is no Egyptian house which did not suffer a loss on the night of the Exodus-ein bayit asher ein ba meit. Moreover, the Bible at the beginning of Parshat Mas’ei tells us that as the Jews were leaving Egypt, the Egyptians were fully immersed in burying their dead-u-mitzrayim mekabrim et meiteihem (Numbers 35). The Egyptians who had once symbolized vigor and power are brought low and are simply focused on burying their dead. In sharp contrast, the Israelites are leaving Egypt with their families intact.  In a pointed reversal, instead of burying their dead, they are removing one of their dead from the soil of Egypt, in a sense almost reviving him as part of the nation and the symbol of his life and promise.

As the Egyptians close in on the Israelite nation the people panic and turn on Moshe asking him sarcastically – hamivli ein kevarim be-mitzrayim? - you are bringing us to the desert to die. As the story unfolds, of course, it turns out that the desert is not a place of death for the Israelites but rather where they will emerge alive and well. It is Egypt and their forces that will die in the dry land of the sea bed, being engulfed by the raging waters.  The prior removal of the bones of Joseph acts in this context as an ironic statement that indeed ein kevarimn bemitrayim. For the Israelite people, Egypt is no longer a place to dwell and even the dead have no place in that land. The Israelite people will live and thrive, while the Egyptians that will find their fate in the bowels of the earth.

Many years ago, my good friend R. David Silber suggested that the taking of the bones of Joseph also acts as the symbolic fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham at the brit bein ha-betarim. God there had famously declared to Abraham, “ve-dor reve’ee yashuvu heinah-that the fourth generation would return here.”  The taking of the bones of Joseph and the deposit of those bones in the Land of Israel closes the circle of God’s covenantal promise that lies at the heart of the Exodus.

When was the Mitzvah of Hadlakot Nerot Declared? 

By Nathaniel Helfgot

R. Isaac Judah Trunk of Kutno (1879-1939),¹ in his work Hasdei Avot  #17,² proffers  a fascinating theory  in relation to the genesis of the lighting of Chanukah candles. He begins by noting that in the famous Talmudic discussion about the origin of Chanukah the section concludes with the statement that the next year they established it as a holiday “with Hallel and Thanksgiving” without any mention of the institution of the lighting of candles in each and every home. (This is also the case in the text of the Al Hanisim that only mentions the relighting of the Menorah in the Temple courtyard and not the lighting in every home). 

To resolve this problem (and the problematic language of Maimonides in Hilkhot Hanukkah) he suggests:

“Since it is explained in the derasha of Hazal cited by Ramban (Bamidbar 8:12) that the mitzvah of lighting Hanukkah candles is an extension of the mitzvah of the lighting of the Menorah in the Temple, that through the lighting of Hanukkah candles, the lighting in the Temple is continued eternally, it is not far from (reason) to conclude that in truth, as long as the Temple stood, Hazal did not institute the mitzvah of lighting the Hanukkah candles, for at that time the Menorah in the Temple was still functioning…and only once the Temple was destroyed were Hazal concerned that  the miracle might be forgotten  for the lights of the Temple Menorah had been extinguished. Therefore, Hazal instituted   the mitzvah of lighting on the doorsteps as a continuation of the mitzvah to light in the Temple” 

This insight is suggested as well by the late Chief Rabbi of Jerusalem, R. Bezalel Zolti, in his Mishnat Yaavetz #73, and by the Rav, as recorded in Hararei Kedem Vol. 1: 173.³

This novel, some might say radical, suggestion yields an interesting view of the neirot Hannukah.  In contrast to other rabbinic practices that are termed zeikher le-mikdash, no such terminology is used in the halakhic literature to describe the lighting of the candles. In short, in this conception, the candles are not a zeikher, but actually a continuation of the original mitzvah.  In this reading it emerges that the home, the house itself, becomes the mikdash in an intense fashion with the menorah perched in its outer “chamber”. We usually think of the synagogue as serving in the role of mikdash me’at, but in this reading the home itself has taken on that role.

Secondarily, this insight dovetails nicely with the well-attested theme in Polish Hasidic literature (Sefat Emet, Rav Tzadok, etc…) that highlights Hannukah as the holiday of Torah she-ba’al peh par excellence. Not only does this holiday emerge after the close of prophecy and the writings of scripture, but it developed its own scaffolding process of rabbinic stages on top of rabbinic stages. It is a holiday in which the rabbinic voice is both the foundational as well as the secondary level of the entire enterprise.

1. One of the leading rabbinic figures in pre-war Mizrachi circles and an outstanding Talmid Hakham
2. Printed at the back of the sefer of his grandfather, the outstanding rabbinic scholar, R. Israel Joshua Trunk’s Sefer Yeshuot Yisrael (Pietrokov, 1932)
3. The Rav noted that the author of the Avnei  Nezer , (R. Avraham of Sochotzov) had raised this possibility as well.

by Nathaniel Helfgot

It has become a widespread phenomenon in many Modern-Orthodox asheknazi kehillot (as well as a number of haredi ones as well) to experience Tisha Be-Av morning (and its mourning) in a different fashion than had been practiced for decades and centuries.  I refer to the fact that instead of simply reciting all of the kinnot printed in the kinnot booklets, from a-z,  congregations recite selected elegies, often accompanied by short or lengthy explanations. This phenomenon is certainly a legacy of the famous kinnot sessions in Onset, MA and then later in Brookline that maran ha-Rav zt”l led from the mid-1950’s through the early 1980’s in which he recited selected kinnot and engaged in lengthy and profound examinations of their themes and meaning. Tisha be-Av became a day of limmud ha-kinnot and recitation of only 15-20 elegies printed in the book. This model which the Rav popularized certainly fell in line with the admonition of the Shulchan Arukh in OH-#1 that “Tov lomar m’at Tachanunim in Harbeih kavanah, milomar harbeh im m’at kavanah-It is better to recite a few petitionary prayers with a lot of devotion and intent than recite many with a little devotion and intent”. In a word, the halakha here mandates that less is more. While this model is certainly rooted in classical halakhic sources, it still represented a departure from the classical Germanic-ashkenazic tradition of saying everything in the book, whether it came to selihot, yotzrot, piyutim or kinnot.

 While this model of “ less is more” has clearly come to dominate in many kehillot when it comes to kinnot, the same cannot be said when it comes to the selihot of erev Rosh Hashanah, at least from my experience.  Curiously, at least outside of Israel, in most kehillot, the very lengthy and difficult selihot of erev Rosh Hashanah are recited in their entirety, often at breakneck speed, with little time for devotion and no explanations offered at all.  While the Rav himself directed his minyan (as I confirmed with veterans of the Maimonides minyan) to engage in the same process of recitation of only a portion of the selihot printed for erev Rosh Hashanah, this model does not seem to have taken off when it comes to erev Rosh Hashanah (A rabbinic colleague informed me that this too was the practice of Rav Yitzchak Hutner zt”l in Yeshivat Chaim Berlin.  According to the story, in response to a person who critiqued him for shortening these selihot, Rav Hutner responded with his typical sharp sarcasm- tov lomar me-at  bli kavanah, mi-lomar harbeh bli kvanah!).

I have been told that in a few kehillot, including in Alon Shvut, this indeed has become the practice, but it clearly does not have the kind of widespread reach that the kinnot phenomenon has achieved.  A rabbinic colleague has told me that he believes that he feels that despite the fact that most laypeople simply “daven it up” quickly with out any real understanding, the constant rhythmic repetition of the 13 attributes of mercy is a powerful experience that should not be revised in any shape. I personally am not sure whether repeating the 13 attributes ten  times  as happens in the selective model times as opposed to reciting them twenty times really undercuts the achievement of that goal. On a number of occasions, both during my semicha studies twenty years ago and in more recent years I have been privileged to lead minyanim where the same hour and a half or so devoted to the recitation of all the selihot was devoted to saying half of them with explanations, background and to the saying of those selected selihot  more slowly with devotion. In all those settings, I know that the words of the Shulchan Arukh really rang true in my religious experience of connecting to the selihot and the approaching Yom ha-Din.

An interesting detail of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik zt”l’s biography, not widely known or discussed (for example, it is not mentioned in the important biographical essay on the Rav that opens Rabbi Aaron Rakaffet’s two volume  The Rav: The World of R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik nor in the important work of my dear friend, Rabbi Dr. Seth Farber “An American Dreamer on the early years of the Rav in Boston) is that before he became a Rosh Yeshiva at RIETS in 1941 upon the death of his father, R. Moshe Soloveitchik zt”l, he served as an instructor in Jewish philosophy at the fledgling Yeshiva College from the Spring of 1936-to the fall of 1937.

The Rav traveled to New York every other week to deliver lectures in Jewish philosophy, during the period between his unsuccessful run for Chief Rabbi of Tel-Aviv in 1935 and the opening of the Maimonides School in 1937 and the Heichal Rabbienu Hayyim Ha-Levi, an advanced yeshiva for Torah study and rabbinic training that opened in 1938/1939 in Boston by the Rav with the encouragement and support of his father Rav Moshe.

During my research for the volume I edited, Community, Covenant and Commitment: Selected Letters and Communications of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (Ktav, 2005) I came across a copy of the Rav’s final examination for the spring semester of 1936 in the archives of Yeshiva College stored at the Yeshiva University library on the Washington Heights campus.  It is reproduced below.

 This exam gives us a window into the areas of study and concern that engaged religious philosophers, and particularly Jewish philosophers of that era. In addition it is fascinating, on an intellectual-forensic level, to note how many of the questions reflecting what the Rav taught in that course would make their appearance (e.g. Taamei Hamitzvot, Approach to the nature of the religious act, nature of repentance) in the philosophical works that he penned only a few years later in the early 1940’s such as Ish ha-Halakhah, The Halakhic Mind and U-Vikashtem Misham. This exam gives us a small window into the works in progress that were developing in the Rav’s mind that would find written expression within a few short years.

                                    FINAL EXAMINATION  JUNE 5, 1936

JEWISH PHILOSOPHY                                                    DR. JOSEPH SOLOVEITCHIK

I. a. What is the basic idea of the “Intellectualist Theory” of the religious act?
  
   b. What are the conclusions? Criticism.

II. a What is the Jewish attitude on the problem of the normative, affective, and cognitive approach to the religious act?
 
    b. What is the approach to God through the reality (being)? Contrast this with the approach to reality through the recognition of God.
  
    c. How does the consciousness of the ego-reality change according to the method of approaching God?

 III. a. How can we explain the two contradictory phenomena in our religious consciousness – dependence and freedom?
     
      b. What is the rational and what is the irrational element in Tshuva? Explain the phenomenon.

IV.  a. The Problem of  “Taame Hamitzvoth”. Explain in connection with the subjectivity and objectivity in the religious consciousness.
 
       b. Explain Maimonides’ theory of the negative attributes. Does the negative theology conform with the Halakhic standpoint?
 
V. a. What does the autonomy of the religious act mean?

     b. Describe the main characteristics of the religious world-interpretation.

     c. How is religious recognition of the being possible?

     d. The practical religious norms and philosophy of religion.

     e. The problem of specific categories of the religious consciousness.

(Ed note:  This post was updated on Oct 25 to correct a couple of copy errors from the original exam.)