A Proper Chinuch

When I speak about my former society, people often draw incorrect conclusions. Because one doesn't hear many positive statements from me about that world, one might assume that it's all pretty horrible. My strong personal sentiments seem to lend support to the idea that it's quite an awful place to grow up in. When they discover my overwhelming aversion to many things frum, people often react with something akin to, "What did they ever do to you?! Were you abused or something?" This is all very far from the truth. Growing up frum was not as terrible as some may think, at least for me. As a matter of course, I was not hit as a kid, neither by my parents nor rabbeim. For the most part, I enjoyed myself as a kid, and was probably as happy and unhappy as most of the kids I grew up with. I wasn't abused. Well, actually, maybe that's not true. I definitely wasn't physically or sexually abused, and I don't even think I was emotionally abused. Generally speaking, I didn't lack love and attention in my youth. But I wonder, is there such a thing as intellectual abuse? Because if there is, maybe that's what I suffered.

Just as the scars of physical abuse remain with a person long after the actual bruises have healed, the lingering effects of intellectual abuse can mar a person's psyche for far longer than the short period of time one's memory recalls any particular ideas one was taught.

My antipathy stems not from any vicious or brutal experiences I suffered at the hands of my mentors, but from the relentless and meticulous assault they subjected my mind to; all the ideas and views they planted within me that are now holding me back every second of my life:

• The way they conditioned me to be afraid of the non-frum world; to distrust all from outside that world; to view it all as a place of sin and temptation always.
• The way they taught me that nothing is worth working for except torah.
• The way they taught me that being a good person counts for nothing if you are not keeping halacha.
• The way they taught me that a non-frum person could not possibly live a moral and ethical life, full of goodness and value.
• The way they taught me never to trust myself. Not my own ideas, my own conclusions, or my own feelings. Especially when a rabbi disagrees with them.
• The reliance on authority they ingrained in me which resulted in a horrible lack of personal responsibility.
• The distorted perspective of relationships they espouse.
• The persistent suspicion they implanted in me for any woman who isn't properly tz'nua (according to what they taught me tz'nua is).
  
• The negative self-image they cultivated in me by teaching that every infraction and deviation of halacha was a result of a moral failing.
  
• The sickening manner that they inject inappropriate sexual connotations into totally innocuous activities, ideas, and interactions.
• The shoddy manner of intellectual debate that is accepted in that world, which one is taught to believe is the proper way of thinking.
• The view that choices in life are all black and white, all or nothing, and that I have to choose it all, or else I'm choosing nothing.
• The way they've delegitimized in my mind any and every manner of religious expression aside from their own extremist approach.

These are just a few examples of how they trained me to be, to feel, to think, to function, to believe, in ways that are so foreign to the person I want to become.

To some extent I've managed to eradicate many of these toxic and debilitating ideas from my personality. Yet even with those successes, I can sense that they're still within me, because so often I have to consciously and deliberately tell myself not to react the way my natural instinct tells me to.

This is the sort of abuse that is so prevalent in chareidi society. Of course, they don't call it by that term. They refer to it instead as getting a proper chinuch.

Growing Up Chareidi Really is Different

It's not uncommon for me to get comments (both online and off) saying that the issues I write or talk about are not as unique as I'm portraying them to be. Sometimes it seems that I'm asserting that a certain problem is exclusive to the chareidi world. Other times I may appear to be pointing at the yeshivish/chareidi influence in my life as the cause of various difficulties I experience. People often take issue with such portrayals, and tell me that there's usually a more general and universal cause for the problem, and the issue itself is something that people from all walks of life deal with.

(Ironically, it's often the same people who love to crow about how unique and distinctive their society is that when hearing my concerns, turn around and tell me that the problems that I see in their society are actually common to everyone and not connected at all to their lifestyle. I see. So only the flattering and complimentary qualities are unique to your society, but the unsavory ones are prevalent everywhere else? Riiiiight.)

I agree that it isn't all applicable only to the scenarios that I focus on. To some degree, much of what I write about could apply to people from all sorts of backgrounds, not just the one I came from. Part of the reason that it comes across that way is that it's my preferred style of writing. I could write in more general terms, speaking about "people" and "societies" (and at times I do), but I prefer to adopt a more personal tone, and therefore I speak specifically about my own formative experiences and influences. Although meant to draw focus, it's not intended to claim exclusivity.

That being said, there's still some important distinctions between those from non-Orthodox societies who have similar difficulties and those who come from a strict Orthodox culture. One notable difference being that no other society in western culture, even a religious one, has as many rules, regulations, and beliefs as chareidism does (to the best of my knowledge). Besides the well known mass of torah obligations, there's also a heap of rabbinic requirements. On top of that, and usually the most intrusive, are all the many rules and requirements that affect the normal everyday quality of our lives. I'm not sure if these are actual halacha, takanos, gedarim, minhag, chumra, communal practice, or just OCD gone awry, but they're the ones that can really drive you mad. For example:

• how to get dressed
• how to take a shower
• how to put on one's shoes
• how to cut one's fingernails
• how to wash our hands
• how to lay in bed when going to sleep
• how late one may sleep
  
• how one may decorate their home
• whether Food A can be eaten before Food B
• whether Book A can be placed on top of Book B

This is just what I could think of off the top of my head. Feel free to contribute your own examples in the comments. What other society makes such incessant demands on their laypeople? (Note: I'm not saying that every minhag and chumra has the severity of a Torah obligation, and admittedly, not every person takes every issue so seriously. But they are all part of the lifestyle, and all are expected to be lived up to to some degree or another.)

Another unique characteristic to chareidism is the severity with which they view every single halachic obligation, from the most trivial to the most fundamental. I've heard of non-Orthodox societies (and families) with lots of rules and regulations, but do members of those groups actually believe that infractions of the regulations condemn one to severe penalties in the afterlife? In chareidism, minor offenses are as severe as capital ones. In fact, it's a well known principle among religious minded people that one shouldn't even think of bigger or smaller rules, and every one of them should be considered as if it's the most important.

The point I'm trying to make is twofold: Firstly, while every society has laws and rules dictating aspects of life, none of them have as many as does Orthodoxy, and especially chareidism. Secondly, even for those people who do have very regimented upbringings, violations of these policies are not the mortal and unpardonable atrocities that chareidim view the breaking of halacha as.

This all-encompassing and very intense existence means that someone raised in such a home or society feels very different about their values, priorities, and norms than does a typical non-Orthodox person raised with their own set of principles.

For example, I've never heard of anyone who thought they were going to hell for not eating a proper diet, not making their bed, or sleeping until noon. On the other hand, I have met many people who believed they were going to suffer some time in hell for not making a bracha, not putting on tefillin, or coming late to davening. There's a qualitative difference in how some people stress the importance of saying please, thank you, and your welcome, while others stress saying baruch hashem, bli neder, and bli ayin hara. I think it's perfectly normal for children to be taught not to use other people's things without their permission. It's a bit different when you're taught that doing so causes you to lose the merit of all the good that you've ever done in your life. Not to gossip sounds like a great educational lesson. Adding that doing so is one of the worst sins a person can commit is just not the same thing. I see no problem with a person feeling guilty for having fantasies about someone other than their spouse. I think it's unhealthy when they view it as if they've actually committed adultery. Educating about taking responsibility for one's actions seems like good parenting. Including exhortations of fire and brimstone makes for a very different kind of lesson. I'm all for a child being brought up with certain concepts of right and wrong. It's a bit different when those concepts provide absolutely no flexibility or room for the person to adjust them somewhat. Guidelines for all sorts of areas of life are perfectly reasonable. Immutable demands that can never be violated are a different story.

It's true, we all have issues to deal with. But growing up chareidi just can't be compared with anything else that's out there.

Will The Real Orthodox Judaism Please Stand Up?

I've been thinking a bit about all the back and forth regarding Wendy Shalit's criticism of the way Orthodox Jews are portrayed in modern fictional literature (see here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here for relevant articles). Similar charges are made against bloggers who write about their (sometimes former) communities in less than flattering terms. This isn't at all surprising. No one likes having their flaws laid bare for the whole world to see. Especially not the frum world. Most definitely not the chareidi world. If it was up to them, all literature would be published by Artscroll and all news reporting would be done by the Yated.

Most of the arguments I've been hearing on the issue are about the supposedly distorted picture that is being painted in these stories. Many people feel that these characterizations do not accurately represent the societies and individuals that they're speaking about. Another point raised is to what degree authors of fiction have an obligation to authentically recreate their fictional settings.

But I think that the real problem that everyone is so upset about has nothing to do with how or even if these stories misrepresent what the frum world is like. Only someone who views the world in absolutist black and white terms would think that a novel's characters are wholly representative of the society that the story is set in. The real issue that's of so much concern is that to many frum people, even if it's acknowledged that the depictions aren't descriptive of the whole society, the very existence of these less-than-stellar figures and narratives are a problem.

After all, frum society loves to portray itself as so much better in every way than anything else that's out there. It perpetually presents its adherents as a content and fulfilled lot, wanting nothing more than to be left alone to follow God's laws, striving for goodness, righteousness, and the pursuit of virtue. Pettiness, dishonesty, selfishness, immorality, decadence, corruption and all the other moral failings that are part of the fabric of human society are concepts that the frum world would like to believe are absolutely foreign to their constituents.

I think it's that fact that Shalit and her advocates are so bothered by. Not about the distorted view of frum society these books supposedly convey. What bothers them to no end is when people share experiences and views which are contrary to the exaggerated claims of the amazingly inspiring, you'll-want-to-give-up-everything-and-join-us-right-away, frum fantasy pitch. They don't like it when frum people's hidden failings are uncovered. When frum people show less than a full commitment to halacha. When frum people behave corruptly. When a person strict about halacha behaves crassly. They don't like it when the cheerful and rose-colored image of frum life is debunked. When drugs, promiscuity, delinquency, mental illness, crime, abuse, and other social ills are revealed to exist. When a dark underbelly is exposed. The point isn't whether these things are common or not. It's whether they exist at all.

This is why they don't like books like The Outside World, The Sacrifice of Tamar, or Sotah. Movies like A Price Above Rubies or Trembling Before G-d. Blogs like Hasidic Rebel, A Hassid and a Heretic, Frummer and The Sheigetz. It's why no frum publisher had the guts to print a much needed book about spousal abuse. It's part of why Baruch Lanner got away with what he did for all those years. And it's why every unpleasant subject in the frum world is swept under the carpet until the problem is just too big to ignore.

Opponents of writers like Tova Mirvis and Naomi Ragen often accuse them of having an axe to grind, of pursuing an agenda. It may be true, it may not be true, but I think it's irrelevant to the point. The fact is that all of these authors, bloggers and social critics speak from a place of genuine experience. Whether that experience is representative of the whole community or not doesn't negate the fact that their feelings on these issues are just as valid and authentic as the feelings of one who has had mainly positive experiences.

No one's saying that all Orthodox Jews are deviants, crooks, and lowlifes. That all Orthodox communities are about superficial materialism and halachic one-upmanship. That Orthodox Judaism is full of hypocrisy and misogyny. But don't try to pretend that these things don't exist. Orthodoxy done right can be a wonderful, inspiring, fulfilling lifestyle. I truly believe that. But not everyone has a great Orthodox experience. Not every Orthodox person is so wonderful. And not every Orthodox experience is so inspiring.

Those of us who have had such experiences are entitled to share our view of Jewish life also. You don’t have to like it. But please don’t tell us that it’s any less authentic than the delusional fantasy that you think you’re living in.

Revelations

In this post from 2 weeks ago, I concluded by saying that the ideas I had written about were leading to a specific point. Interestingly, an anonymous commenter on the post wrote something which alluded to the very point I wanted to explore:

"What puzzles and saddens me is that even "burn outs" from the "frum" world continue to view religiousness as black or white. The view seems to be that you're either in for a penny, in for a pound - or not, and nothing in between."

His observation is accurate, and not just relevant to this subject. On many varied issues, people often encounter individuals who have left the yeshivish/chareidi world, or the frum world, or whatever world, and are surprised that many vestiges of their former life are still evident in their activities, their outlooks, and their personalities. Why is that? they wonder, If you've left it so wholeheartedly, why are you still looking at things like you're still in that world?

Shlomo shares some of his thoughts on this issue in his typically eloquent and inspiring prose. I want to explore a slightly different angle than he does over there.

As I explained earlier, my own departure from my former society resulted more from an emotional reaction than an intellectual one. During my religious transition, for the most part, I wasn't seriously examining all the intellectual and rational foundations of my religious upbringing. Some of them, yes. But even for those few areas that I focused on, my criteria for acceptability was probably based more on a subjective cognitive appeal than any critical intellectual analysis.

Over the years, I've changed quite a bit. I've changed the clothes I wear, the style of my speech, the manner of my interactions, the activities that interest me, the people I associate with, the things that are important to me, the way I think, and the perspectives I have. I've even had opportunity to adjust my views on the deeper philosophical issues of Jewish thought and practice.

The changes happened in many different ways. Some of them were done with conscious effort and some just gradually happened on their own. A lot of them came to me naturally while others were met with incredible resistance. Many of those changes were due to the appeal of the new way of doing things, and many others were a deliberate rejection of the old approach. Most probably came from subjective considerations, but at least a few are probably based in semi-solid convictions.

But there are still myriad areas of thought and experience that I haven't adjusted my perspective on. For the most part, this is because I haven't had any opportunities to seriously reexamine these issues and feelings. Changing ones lifestyle and society can raise many issues that one needs to clarify and take sides on, but there remain countless other areas which are just not touched on by the events and experiences of everyday life. Additionally, the sheer volume of ideas, habits, perspectives, and tendencies that the frum world inculcates in their followers makes it practically impossible for a person to totally undo all the subtle, yet deeply rooted, effects they have on one's psyche.

This is all the more true when speaking about one who, like myself, made the transition not primarily due to intellectual considerations. I didn't get up one day in class and proclaim that I no longer believed in the truth of Torah. Even after I left, I still pretty much accepted and believed that most of the ideas that they had taught me were God-given truths. I didn't reject everything as false and irrelevant. And contrary to what frummies like to think that all rebels do, I didn't consequently make efforts to violate every religious principle and halacha that I could.

But even after all these years, even though it's been a blessedly long time since I've had a rabbi demand an explanation of why I wasn't on time to davening, and even after I've made a pretty complete adjustment into my current community, I still have many of those old yeshivish/chareidi perspectives about life and Judaism lingering within me.

My experiences since leaving my native culture have exposed me to a lot of things, a lot of new ideas, a lot of new approaches to old ideas. But only in certain areas. Those areas of thought and experience that I haven't reexamined still retain the same traditional (and usually restrictive and objectionable) view on the issue that I had all those years ago.

Lying dormant within me, and within so many likeminded individuals, are many beliefs, ideas, value judgments, perspectives, preferences, and feelings which actually are totally at odds with the person that we have become. Unfortunately, those old patterns of thought don't gradually die out, or just fade into the background of our psyche, never to bother us again. They actually are very much still alive, yet because the particular issue may not be raised by the experiences we encounter, they're able to remain undetectable to our consciousnesses for a very long time. Only many years later, possibly when an idea is raised in conversation, an incident catches our attention, or an experience evokes a reaction, will we discover the phantom that's been lurking within us all this time.

At times these epiphanies are rather benign. But more often than not, they can end up coming back to haunt us in a most detrimental way. Let's take a closer look at the scenario raised by the commenter I mentioned above:

A kid is taught that black-hat frumkeit is the only valid and legitimate approach to Judaism. Due to various frustrations and other emotional/sociological factors he decides to chuck it all and drop frumkeit altogether. Some years down the line, after he's achieved a certain balance in his life, he decides to try to take another look at his tradition. Leery of his former society due to the negative associations and memories of his youth, he looks around at other alternative approaches to Judaism. He explores, he tries out, he discovers. Yet, despite the fact that so much of these approaches appeal to him, he finds himself cynical and skeptical of them all. He can't bring himself to wholeheartedly embrace any one of them. Why is this? Because subconsciously he still has the belief he was taught all those years ago that all these approaches are illegitimate when compared to the one authentic derech of chareidism. He never rejected that view when he left that world. And since he studiously avoided any and all contact with religious society in the years since, he never had the opportunity to reexamine the idea and reject it then. As a result, the old perspective still holds sway in his outlook of these issues, and triggers feelings that are counterproductive.

These unconscious views that are latent within us often emerge when we least expect them. They trigger immense frustration in our lives, in so many areas of life, not even ones directly related to religion: relationships, goals, trust, work-ethic, family interactions, child rearing, etc. As mentioned, Judaism has views, opinions, and ideas on every conceivable area of life, from the most mundane to the most significant. And a person that went through the black-hat world probably had so many of those views drilled into him as dogmatic and immutable truth. Any of those ideas or beliefs which are allowed to recede from ones focus and then be ignored for many years will probably resurface years later when an issue that asks the person for their feelings on the matter arises.

If a person is lucky (or self-aware), they can recognize the source of these unexpected feelings and hopefully counter them appropriately. But many people must battle these demons throughout their lives, never fully understanding why they constantly seem to react to experiences in ways that seem so counterintuitive to the person that they understand themselves to be.

Shimon Lives!

Some time ago I wrote an entry about a possibly fictional character named Shimon. Shimon was a commenter on the Hirhurim blog who was spewing some pretty extreme views. Many doubted whether those comments were meant to be taken seriously or not. I felt that it was irrelevant whether Shimon was real or not, as the ideas expressed were fairly common in the yeshivish world. Some disputed that claim and said that if he was in fact real, he was just a crackpot that was an exception to the rule.

The issue can now be settled. R' Moshe Shternbuch, one of the most prominent rabbinic leaders in the chareidi world, has released a letter regarding the Slifkin controversy, and in his letter he expresses ideas almost identical to Shimon's. Thank you R' Shternbuch, for confirming what so many of your constituents try so earnestly to deny.

See Gil's latest for a thorough analysis of the letter. May the pain he must have endured while restraining himself from saying what he really wanted to be a kapara for all the apikorsus he has read (and written) in his life.

Leaving It Behind

How does one go from being a fully committed Jew to one who doesn't really care much about halacha or a torah life? I often find myself asking that very question (to myself). Back in yeshiva we were told that the route to becoming "frei" is a result of any of a variety of subtle triggers:

1. the yetzer hara convincing us to sin; giving in to our base impulses
2. our minds rationalizing how our transgressions are really no big deal
3. allowing ourselves to be put in potentially compromising situations
4. not following our rabbeim and gedolim
5. not learning enough torah
6. stepping on to the slippery slope (I suppose all of the above could be examples of that)

All these rationales seek to place the blame of choosing such a path on the individual themselves. Those who believe these are the reasons for a person "going off" usually see the torah way of life as very fulfilling, consistently true, appropriate for everyone, and not in any way in need of any critical evaluation or adjustment. To their eyes, any person who "strays" from this path must obviously be making a mistake, either by having gotten "farkrumpt"(corrupted) somehow, or otherwise by knowingly choosing to abandon principles of right and wrong in order to "give in to their yetzer hara".

Those may well be legitimate explanations for the phenomenon of people choosing to leave the traditional way of life. No doubt there were many times that when faced with the "do what I think is right vs. do what I want" dilemma I willingly chose the path of self-indulgence and then rationalized it away after the fact. Admittedly, that may well have had some affect on my overall torah commitment. (Actually I have no idea if it did. But I also have no idea if it didn't, so I won't rule it out.)

But there are other catalysts at play which I believe are more deserving of attention. I can think of other, more honest and more genuine reasons why people choose to step out of the seemingly warm, comfortable and secure world of frumkeit to one so foreign and unfamiliar.

Looking back on my own journey of transition, I can clearly identify a variety of factors that were instrumental in the weakening of my allegiance and devotion to a committed torah life (in no particular order):

1. Frustration that I was not allowed to pursue activities and experiences which were enjoyable and meaningful to myself. And the opposite:
2. Being forced to constantly engage in activities which I found boring, meaningless, and even painful (and even being taught that I must be devoted to it and enjoy it!).
3. Engaging in innocuous activities, but because they have been characterized as unkosher, feeling guilty about it and reinforcing the self-image of a transgressor.
4. Witnessing hypocrisy, lies and injustice perpetrated in the name of Torah, halacha, and Yiddishkeit.
5. Being made to feel second-class.
6. Not being allowed to freely express my true feelings and views about many issues.
7. The constant and endless harping about so many trivial and irrelevant halachos and issues as if they were the most important issues of life.
   
8. Discovering that certain basic tenets of Jewish life and thought might not really be as true as I was led to believe; that facts, history, and even torah were being distorted to further an agenda.
9. Realizing that those charged with my upbringing (family members, rabbis, teachers) made decisions which were far from being in my best interests because they felt that a proper frum upbringing demanded that such a path be taken.
10. When I realized that the trust I had in the torah system may be a bit unfounded.
11. When I came to the conclusion that I was just not going to be happy living a typically frum, torah lifestyle.

These are all general categories, each of which has myriad examples, some trivial, others more significant. All of which probably contributed in some way to my loyalty to frumkeit being reduced to a mere echo of it's previous commitment.

It's obvious that the above listed items are primarily emotional issues. Despite what led some others to renounce their ties to Yiddishkeit I freely admit that the primary impetus for my departure from the chareidi world was not due to any deep intellectual convictions. True, there definitely were other issues along the way which had some influence on my choices (some of the more intellectual type) but I think it's fair to classify my "rebellion" as mainly an emotional response. (Although, as is often the case in these situations, I probably felt it neccessary to legitimize my decisions by pointing at the intellectual issues.)

Since exiting the chareidi world and the koslei beis medrash, I've been exposed to many ideas and views on life other than the typical frum ones, and I have heard many opinions and intellectual arguments which seem to undermine much of the foundations of frumkeit. A lot of it is quite convincing. I've also heard some more solid arguments for the cause of Torah than I was previously aware of. At this point there's a whole mess of ideas and opinions within me vying for my attention and allegiance. Some trying to convince me why so much of my former life is so wrong and not worth paying any more attention to and some pleading with me not to make the biggest mistake of my life. Much of it is quite intriguing, but actually, the simple truth is that I really don't care too much whether it's true or not. What I do care about is to live a meaningful, fulfilling, enjoyable life, filled with as much goodness, love, enrichment and happiness as I can, and as devoid of pain, pettiness, shallowness, and injustice as possible. Something like that.

In the next installment (which hopefully won't take 3 weeks to compose), I'll try to explain how this is all relevant to something I'm going through now.

More on Trusting Gedolim

One of the common refrains of the Chareidi world, and one which is being repeatedly mentioned now due to the Slifkin controversy is "The gedolim have spoken, and the gedolim are to be trusted." I've written a bit about why I myself don't personally trust the gedolim. But I really need to ask these people who are calling for that trust, "Why do you trust the gedolim?"

In Stephen Covey's bestseller, "The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People", the author writes about the concept of an "Emotional Bank Account" (pg 188). I'm going to paraphrase a bit:

We all know what a financial bank account is. We make deposits into it and build up a reserve from which we can make withdrawals when we need to. An Emotional Bank Account is a metaphor that describes the amount of trust that's been built up in a relationship.
If I make deposits into an Emotional Bank Account with you through courtesy, kindness, honesty, keeping my commitments to you, and other trust-building behaviors, I build up a reserve. Your trust toward me becomes higher, and I can call upon that trust many times if I need to. I can even make mistakes, and that trust level, that emotional reserve, will compensate for it. When the account balance is high, there is confidence in each other, reliance, and most obviously trust.
But if I have a habit of showing discourtesy, disrespect, overreacting, ignoring your concerns, becoming arbitrary, betraying your trust, threatening you, or playing little tin god in your life, eventually my Emotional Bank Account is overdrawn. The account is depleted. The trust level gets very low.
If a large reserve of trust is not sustained by continuous deposits, a relationship will eventually deteriorate. Previously high amounts of trust can not be relied on for new withdrawals. And if the trust isn't there now, does it make sense to act as if it is?

I understand that you trust the gedolim. I once did too. I too was told how truly great and wise they are. I believed it all. I trusted them. Just like you do. I was taught that everything they do is for our best. That nothing they do is for their own interests. That all their decisions are fair, honest, proper, kind, just, and most of all, according to the Torah. Comparing it to the analogy of the bank account, I had a tremendous reserve of trust for the gedolim.

On a rare occasion, I would notice something that didn't seem right to me. Sometimes I heard about an incident which didn't seem so fair or honest. But confident that the gedolim wouldn't ever do anything unfair or less than honest, I brushed it aside and kept my faith strong. To return to the metaphor, a small withdrawal of trust was made, but it was more than amply covered by my reserve.

However, I started learning of other things regarding our gedolim which continued to make larger and larger demands on my trust. Apparently, sometimes they do overlook things when it suits their purposes. It seems they don't have solutions for many of the problems in their society. Rumor has it that some of them made some really dumb mistakes over the years. Many bits and pieces of information passed my way that cast doubt on the towering greatness of these figures. As I encountered these challenges, for the most part they were met with strong skepticism. After all, I was taught well: "The gedolim are to be trusted, and it's not our place to question them." That huge reserve of trust was pushed forward and presented to cover all these slight depletions.

But the demands kept piling up. I found myself deducting from that trust more and more and instead of concrete deposits of trust, all I was given in exchange by those representatives of the gedolim were hollow promises of, "They're the gedolim. They'll pay you back. Just trust them. You'll see." And I continued to do so. I continued to give them my trust. Long after the account was empty, I still managed to scrounge around, sell off parts of my good sense to raise the capital, and again rely on what they told me. But eventually, I realized that I could keep up the sham no longer. I had nothing left to give them. Pretending to give them trust that I no longer had was just idiotic.

Ok, enough with the bank account metaphor. I think I got a bit carried away there. But I really need to ask you, all of you who continue to trust the gedolim, Why? Why do you continue to have confidence in them? It doesn't make any sense. You're not blind to all their indiscretions, are you? How can you disregard it all? How can you continuously respond to any insinuation against their integrity with an equanimous, "They are the gedolim. It's not our place to question them." You continue to ignore all the mounting evidence that your confidence is misplaced. Why?

You say you trust them, but this is not real trust. Real trust is earned. It needs to be maintained, nurtured, and cultivated. When a person is loyal to some ideal, even when there is no rational basis for it, I believe a more fitting term for that behavior is blind faith. Is that what is expected of a frum Jew? To have blind faith in these leaders? To check in one's own good sense at the front door, and just follow along because that's what "trusting the gedolim" means?

From what I am constantly hearing, I can only assume that you all believe that is so. That despite all evidence to the contrary, the gedolim must always continue to be trusted. They must not be challenged, questioned, or held accountable. And of course, they must never be defied. We must continue to place our confidence in their decisions, no matter how wrong they seem to us. Well, if this is what you believe, all I can say is, Enjoy your Judaism. I want no part in this mindless cult. If I'm wrong though, then please explain to me what the hell is going on. Because I just don't get it.

Meet Shimon (AKA your typical chareidi yeshiva guy)

As I mentioned below, the Slifkin controversy has generated a lot of debate on Hirhurim. In fact, there are so many people writing on it that the commenting system keeps breaking down! In the comment section of Gil's latest post, we are introduced to a new figure in the discussions: Shimon.

Shimon seems to be a really sincere and earnest fellow who is truly bothered by the scandalous things that are being said on these forums. He shares with us some of his strongly held views. Below is a sampling of Shimon's feelings about...

Science:

"As far as I know, all of the gedolim alive today, without exception, believe that it is kefirah to say that the world is more than 5765 years old."

"It doesn't matter what the scientists tell us about the age of the earth. We have to view science through the prism of Torah. The scientists always change their minds, and Torah is eternal."

About gedolim:

"Our gedolim understand the real inner workings of the universe better than any scientist."

"The gedolim in eretz yisroel are not polluted by science and the kiruv movement which has diluted pure Torah haskafot."

"I am aware that certain gedolim have said that chazal took their information from goyish sources. But they were wrong. And look who said this: men who also studied philosophy. Those who had a pure Toraha hashkafah, like the gedolim in France and Germany didn't say this."

About Rabbis:

"I know that some rabbis in the U.S. are similarly involved in the kefirah...since at least one of their dayanim has stated that the world is older than 5765 years. This means that his gittin are pasul."

"If your rebbe teaches something you should only follow it when he is alive, but if after he dies all the gedolim feel differently, you should now adopt the view of the gedolim and assume that your rebbe would have done otherwise."

"I am sorry the OU is not following the gedolim. If their mashgichim feel similarly, then it is no longer a reliable hashgachah..."

On Jews and Judaism:

"We have a terrible situation where according to the gedolim virtually all Modern Orthodox Jews and even some haredim are kofrim...This means that are all pasul edim and can't be given aliyos."

"Just because Artscroll looks frum doesn't make is so...frumkeit and observance has to be joined with adherence to daas Torah... Plenty of observant Jews are misguided because they don't listen to the gedolim."

About Kiruv:

"...All this is the fault of so called kiruv organizations and supposedly Orthodox scientists."

"...I know that many gedolim are less than happy about the kiruv movement for this reason, and that it has enabled non-Torah views to gain a foothold in yiddishkeit."

"...it's possible that these gedolim said this only to bring people back to yiddishkeit but they didn't really believe it."

"...the kiruv movement which has diluted pure Torah haskafot."

And my favorite line, about yours truly:

"Hedyot -- you are an apikores so why don't you go back to where you came from."

He has many more such gems throughout the entire comment section. I heartily recommend that you go through it all to appreciate the depth of this guy's beliefs.

Many, if not most, of the posters seem to think that Shimon isn't a real person, just someone spouting mindless drivel to get everyone riled up. But his enthusiasm is very convincing. At first I was sure it was a joke, but now I'm not so sure.

He has gotten the crowd pretty worked up. On the one hand, he has the MO crowd trying to disprove all his radical positions. And from the other side, he has his chareidi buddies pleading with him to shut up before he embarrasses them even more. Poor Shimon. He just can't seem to win. What's a God-fearing, da'as torah-believing, gadol-following, yeshiva guy to do?

Whether or not Shimon is real, I think it's worth taking a closer look at him, because to me he seems to be a fairly accurate representation of the typical chareidi yeshiva guy. The only major thing that is different about Shimon is that he is speaking up. Most people who hold such views have way more tact and discretion then he seems to posses. But if you spend time in any black-hat yeshiva in America, Europe, or Israel, I guarantee that you will hear similar ideas being expressed constantly. It's definitely true that not all people who identify themselves as chareidi would agree with these positions. But the fact is that in many, many mainstream chareidi yeshivas, these views are persistently presented, they are promoted, and they are encouraged.

So why don't we hear from people like Shimon more often? Partly, because for some people, the fire eventually wears off and they adopt a more moderate stance on many issues. But for many others, it's simply because they know that people don't like hearing what they have to say, and speaking up will only antagonize their associates. Yet they continue to believe them, and quite fiercely too, convinced that they are the true keepers of the faith.

I therefore would like to thank Shimon. As I said in the comments at Hihurim, without individuals like Shimon telling us their views, frum people would be able to naively believe that the only threat a zealous yeshiva guy like Shimon poses is an extra long chazaras hashatz. If only it were so. The truth is much more grim. People like Shimon are taking over Judaism and gradually destroying it, one kol koreh at a time.

Issues of the Slifkin Controversy

The Slifkin controversy has generated much heated debate in the blogosphere, most notably at Hirhurim, and the intensity of the arguments seems to have distracted many people from what the core issues about this debacle are. In my humble opinion, it is not a problem that some rabbis want to consider certain views apikorsus. And it's even not so objectionable that they'd like to censor those views. To my unlearned eye, the problems seem to be:

• The views expressed by R' Slifkin are not new ideas. They are sourced in rishonim, achronim, and various rabbinic writings that have always been accepted as part of the fold (even if not universally accepted). No doubt there are ideas in Judaism that are considered heretical, but to say that these views are unquestionably of that nature is ridiculous.
  
  
• R' Slifkin has (or had) rabbinic support for saying what he did. It's ironic that so many of those people faithfully trotting out the chareidi party line of "We must trust the judgment of the gedolim" seem to have forgotten another truism of chareidi ideology: "You have to find yourself a rebbe and go by what he says." Nosson Slifkin did that. Now you want to nail him to the wall for it?!
  
  
• The rabbis who did support R' Slifkin are now silent (for the most part). Either they are being cowed into silence, which is a serious enough problem in itself, or they just don't have the backbone to stand up against the tide and stand by their man in his moment of trouble, which is a whole different problem. Either way, the absence of unqualified support for R'Slifkin is very troubling.
  
  
• There was no due process in this whole affair. Those issuing the ban did not treat R' Slifkin with the least bit of fairness. They didn't let him present his side of the issue, they deigned not to meet with him when he made attempts to do so, and they seemed to have based their rulings on incomplete and distorted information. This manner of going about the issues has been documented in the past (e.g. Making of a Gadol) and the fact that it continues to happen speaks volumes about the way this community learns from their past mistakes. In my opinion these figures should be sued for slander, libel, or whatever the proper legal term is. If this type of incident occurred in the non-frum world I have no doubt that the victims would do just that.
  
  
• The ban was really engineered by various zealots in the community and is motivated more by sectarian sociological concerns than a deep and true commitment to torah principles. That they succeeded in their campaign is an indicator of how extremist viewpoints and ideologies are gaining greater power in the mainstream frum community. I elaborated on this in my previous post.

These are the truly disturbing problems of this fiasco. Not whether saying X or Y is actually kefira or not. Or whether the Left is treating the Right with a double standard. Or if it is actually kefira or just "close to kefira" (whatever that means). The real problem is what this all says about frum society, and frum society's leaders.

Some may not like this, but in my opinion, if something is rightfully deemed problematic, let them ban it. I don't think it'll do any good, and it displays a pathetic understanding of how people in today's society function, but if they want to behave like that, let them do so (after properly investigating if the charge is justified and after giving the defendant opportunity to privately make amends) and see how much good it'll do them and their cause.

Did I miss anything? Anyone else have suggestions about what they feel are the core problems this issue reveals?

The Rise of Fundamentalism

Everyone’s chiming in on the Slifkin book banning controversy (link, link, link, link, link, link, link, link), so in the paragraphs below I offer my own armchair analysis. For me, this incident highlights 2 issues, and I’ve made reference to them in the past:

1. the increasing influence of the extremist elements in the frum world
2. trusting rabbis

Maybe in some long ago era (20-30 years ago?) being frum was something that people were able to enjoy, to be able to be a part of while still being a normal, everyday Joe. I’ve heard fascinating tales of exotic and mysterious places where people who were fine respectable frum yidden weren’t ashamed of the fact that they didn’t eat cholov yisrael, owned TV’s, had mixed seating affairs, weren’t pressured to learn 24/7, read newspapers, went mixed swimming, weren’t bothered by women who didn’t cover their hair, earned University degrees, had singles events, worked for a living, didn’t worry about the shiur of their matza, gave their relatives hugs and kisses, and had all sorts of corrupt behavior that today would be considered terribly sordid.

However, in today’s day and age, thanks to the increase in our levels of torah observance and the tremendous proliferation of all the wonderful yirei shamayim, ba’alei madreiga, and gedolei torah that have filled our ranks, being frum is something else entirely. Normal, it isn’t. Enjoyable, it doesn’t even pretend to be. What we have today is something only vaguely recognizable to what existed barely a generation ago. True, the world has changed, and certain measures may be justified, but the degree to which frum society has become such an unpleasant, repressive, intolerant and narrow-minded culture can not be based on external factors alone.

When I was going through yeshiva, I often pointed out to some of the more moderate rabbeim I dealt with how proponents of extremist views make Judaism so unpleasant for people like me. They often were sympathetic to my frustrations, and encouraged me to try to find my own niche where these views weren’t present and I wouldn’t have to put up with inanities such as those. Yet, they wouldn’t ever take a stand (even privately) against promoters of the stringent views. They always maintained that these figures were ehrliche yidden, following their gedolim, who themselves were following their established mesorah, and were not to be viewed as unacceptable. The farthest I ever heard any rabbi go was to criticize their methods, but the goal of these factions (supposedly that of protecting the Torah, and increasing observance of mitzvos) was always unassailable. "They’re derech is not the way we do things", they’d say, "but it’s a derech that is based in Torah."

While recent incidents like the Slifkin controversy truly turn my stomach when I see how these fanatics are becoming increasingly more powerful and influential, I have to admit that I enjoy seeing how those same rabbis who were always too hesitant to criticize these figures, are now finding themselves on the receiving end of the extremism. The uncomfortable position that they find themselves in is truly amusing.

On the one hand, they’ve been trying to pass themselves off as moderate, as sophisticated, as being in touch with the modern Jew, understanding of the subtle conflicts that an educated person deals with, and offering a Judaism that caters to these sensibilities. On the other hand, they desperately need to maintain their "frum credentials", and if they come across too agreeable to modernishkeit they will suffer the wrath of the frumkeit watchdogs. So at the same time that they’re pandering to the modern sensibility, they’re also professing absolute loyalty to da’as torah, halacha, mesorah, and of course, the gedolim.

No one’s surprised that when push comes to shove, they will always faithfully take the side of the gedolim. But what’s so humorous about this situation is seeing these supposedly "with-it" rabbis now being forced to take positions that they themselves are truly uncomfortable with. The fence they once were able to straddle no longer exists. At this point, the extremism has so permeated the mainstream approach to frumkeit, and is supposedly being promoted by the current crop of roshei yeshiva and gedolim that if they really believe they’re own shpiel about submission to da’as torah being paramount, then they necessarily must adopt these views too. So, while 15-20 years ago, they didn’t see such a problem with keeping quiet about certain trends developing in frum society, now those trends have snowballed into outright lunacy, and these rabbis are being forced to reap what they’ve sown.

• For example, back then they might not have had a problem with those who were discouraging interaction between the sexes, but now those same ideologues are pushing for the need for separate busses, even separate streets in certain locations, forbidding healthy and normal socialization and in general promoting a social norm that is frighteningly similar to those found in repressive Muslim societies.
  
  
• Whereas in prior years, they would have silently ignored certain vocal elements in the frum world as some of their views were harshly criticized, confident that their opinions were still accepted in the mainstream, now the mainstream has rejected their approach as heretical.
  
  
• Whereas before they extolled the trend to encourage more and more torah study, emphasizing it’s primacy over "secular" studies, now they find themselves dealing with a community that is wholly unprepared to face the challenges of the modern era, incapable of supporting themselves, utterly ignorant of established scientific facts, and lacking in the most basic of critical thinking skills.
  
  
• Whereas in an earlier generation they were complimentary of the trend towards increasing levels of torah observance, now they find themselves dealing with a community that is obsessed with obscure rituals and stringencies to a degree that is unprecedented in Jewish history; a community that is so focused on the letter of the law that the concept of "the spirit of the law" is absolutely foreign to them.
  
  
• Whereas before they might have quietly gone along with the trend to avoid "non-torah" sources of information such as secular newspapers, nowadays the recommended resource for news and information comes from organs that are merely mouthpieces for their leaders own agendas and who’s only objective is to present their community in a positive light, liberally dispensing with such journalistic notions as fairness, objectivity, truth, and avoiding slander and libel.
  
  
• Whereas before they might have sided with groups who were strongly critical of Zionist institutions, now they find those same groups supporting murderers of Jews.
  
  
• Whereas before they might have been understanding of the community’s tendency to distrust "the goyim", nowadays they have to deal with rabbinic figures who expound racist views.
  
  
• Whereas before they preferred the idea of taking care of problems in the community privately without involving the authorities, now they find that this policy has left them with no effective means of combating criminals and deviants who have used this system to gain positions of great influence, all the while using their positions to exploit and harm innocent people. Self-appointed vigilantes who openly commit criminal acts and ruin innocent people’s lives, reputations, and livelihoods have free reign.

Probably all these examples of fanaticism have existed in elements of the frum community at one time or another. But in the past, they were always fringe elements, never fully accepted and never allowed to have too much influence in mainstream Jewish society. However, in our golden age of frumkeit, these zealots have been given a foothold and been allowed to influence our society so that their views have permeated our schools, our communities, our institutions, our social norms, and our lives. Most importantly, by not speaking out against these extremist elements, the leaders - the gedolim - are giving tacit approval to these developments. Some of the gedolim just remain quiet, silently going along with the flow, but others are more outspoken, openly and fully endorsing the new reality that is taking hold. They are supportive of these groups, and are elated that their influence is no longer limited to their sectarian enclaves. Their influence has now extended beyond their confined ghettos to what was once considered ordinary yeshiva society (now probably identified as chareidi) and even further outward to many areas of modern orthodox society.

These people have ruined Judaism enough already. Our leaders have proven themselves to be untrustworthy and incompetent to combat this blight. I hope and pray that this incident will be the wake up call that the frum world needs to realize how badly their society has degenerated. Maybe when the stench is too strong to ignore they will finally do something about it. And maybe then, when we see them caring about matters of truth and justice more than they do about frumkeit images and superficialities, those of us who left it out of disgust and frustration may be willing to give it a second chance.

(Eh, who am I kidding?!)

Update: Check out this great spoof.

Second Update: Chakira chimes in with a worthwhile analysis. At the end, he mentions that he wrote about this a year ago and was written off as being too paranoid about people on the fringe of the frum community. This illustrates exactly the point I was making above. These people used to be on the fringe, and now they have become mainstream.

Better Than Worse

In reaction to comments I made about my upbringing, this writer expresses how he feels that if only I had been exposed to Modern Orthodox (MO) thinking, I would not have ended up as I did. Sorry, Dr. Woolf, but I think you're a bit mistaken. In the comments to that post, I explained how being exposed to MO would probably not have had much effect due to the thorough cleansing my brain had been through and how I would never had accepted anything from MO as legitimate. However, the reasons that that poster is mistaken really run much deeper than those cursory observations. Actually, too deep for me to go into now, what with more pressing responsibilities calling for my immediate attention.

What I can say now is this: Despite the fact that I'm not convinced that Modern Orthodoxy would have made me a more serious and commited Jew, it probably would have at least had the effect of not making me as ambivalent about frumkeit and torah as my yeshivish education did to me. Those years spent in the rigid and demanding yeshiva system probably had a worse effect on my feelings about Torah and yiddishkeit than any "apikorsus" I could have been exposed to in the writings of MO thinkers. Thank you, me dear family, rabbeim and roshei yeshiva, for protecting my holy neshama from those harmful and damaging influences. I can't imagine where I'd be today without you.

Gmail anyone?

I know it's only been a few days, but I've posted a number of (IMNSHO) substantive pieces already and I'm curious as to the readers feelings about what's been presented. So I'm offering up 15 gmail accounts to the commenters with the most informative feedback (not necessarily the nicest feedback) about this blog.

Do you think it's just more of the same angry yeshiva guy ranting that is found elsewhere? Does it speak to you? Are there any particular areas that you’d like to see me explore more of? What’s the quality of the writing? What’s the tone of the writing? Anything that struck you in any particular way? Is it all just incoherent rambling?

Since I need your real email address in order to send you a gmail invite, please send your comments to my email (daashedyot AT gmail.com) instead of just commenting here. (Unless you don't mind providing that info publicly.)

Being Led To Believe

Shtreimel has raised the question of "What type of rebel are you?" I think there are a few more categories that can be drawn besides his three, but the general ones he proposes are definitely a good start. I find myself asking that question so often lately. It's usually phrased somewhat differently, more along the lines of: What do I believe? Do I think it's all a load of bull? Do I even believe in God? Do I believe but not care? Different choice of words, but essentially the same query.

I'm gradually coming to some sort of clarity on this issue, but one thing that I keep coming back to is that every time an issue arises and I ask myself "What do I believe about it?" I always hear myself replying, "Well, I was led to believe..."

What's the difference between believing something and being led to believe something?

Someone much smarter than myself can go into the exact definition of what belief is. I'm not absolutely certain. A hasty definition that comes to mind would be the conviction that something is true, particularly of an idea that that one can't be certain of. But at heart, belief is about something that a person truly believes in themselves. (Yes, I know that is so circular, but my point will be clearer when contrasting it with the next idea.)

Yet most often when an issue arises that stimulates me to take a look at my convictions in a particular area, I usually discover that I don't have any real beliefs of my own on the matter. True, there are some ideas on it floating around in my head, but in 99% of the cases those aren't my own ideas. They are ideas that someone else told me to subscribe to, and which I kept as my own all my life. I was led to believe, and I willingly followed where I was led. But did I believe it myself? In most cases, the answer is no.

I really don't have a problem with this idea in general. It's understandable and acceptable to me that not all of my beliefs are my own. I think that we all do this in so many areas of our lives, not just matters of religious thought. There's no way that we can subject to analysis every idea that we are expected to believe or take for granted. We all have ideas in our heads which have shaped our personalities that haven't been thoroughly scrutinized and filtered.

Yet it's very disturbing how often this has been happening to me. How frequently I realize that on so many issues that my life revolves around (or in some cases revolved), I don't really have my own convictions. Some people might say that absence of belief is like saying "I don't believe", but to my mind, that's already a belief in itself, and while applicable in certain cases, most often a better way of expressing it is simply "I don't know".

It affects me on many levels. The most obvious one is in the myriad areas of Jewish practice. (This actually doesn't really bother me as much as it used to, as I've come to an overall conclusion that I don't care about most of it, so asking me what my beliefs are about halacha is like asking me what my beliefs are about head lice.) But it's about much more than halacha. I've realized that many of my values are also not my own. The way that I approach relationships is not my own. The qualities I admire in another person are not my own. My goals in life are not my own. The way I want to raise my family is not my own. My overall understanding of life, of Judaism, of practically everything of any consequence - it's all viewed from the frum perspective I was indoctrinated with that I no longer believe in.

Do you realize how utterly frightening this is? When I remove all these ideas that I've only subscribed to, and then look at what's remaining on the board, I'm left with a terribly short list of views that I've truly acquired on my own. It's practically a blank slate.

Ok, I'm probably overstating it a bit. Admittedly, throughout the past few years, most of my views on many issues have been modified somewhat in parallel to the changes I've made in my lifestyle. But despite that, on almost all important and central issues, there is still a very large and substantial part which is not my own, and when that is removed, there is a gaping hole in it's absence.

But there is more. Not knowing right or wrong might be the most obvious dilemma I face, but more important than that is that I simply don't have a fucking clue how to figure out the right answers to all these questions! I wasn't taught how to figure things out, to investigate, to come to my own conclusions. I was taught to listen, to accept, to ask someone else what to believe, how to live my life, what's right and what's wrong, and accept that he knows best.

And now I find myself with nobody to trust, but also no tools to figure things out on my own.

Where do I start?

True Growth

Ben Chorin has a great piece explaining his fondness for people (and blogs) that challenge the status quo in the frum world. He writes:

"The yiddishkeit taught in cheder, or the more modern equivalent, is filled with simple-minded myths designed to give meaning to our traditions."

If I could expand on that idea a bit, I’d say that the problem isn’t just that people retain these juvenile perspectives. It’s that we’re expected to! True, no one frowns upon a person that studies more and develops a "greater appreciation" of these narratives and teachings, but that’s only if the person is still spouting the original idea as truth and only using his newfound appreciation as a way of expanding on the original concept. However, if a person were to study anything which could (chas v’shalom!) cause him or her to reject any of those original ideas... well, that’s already stepping over the line.

Basically, in the frum world, when you reach adulthood you’re expected to have essentially the same views on Yiddishkeit that you had when you were in 3rd grade. And probably nothing would make our rabbeim prouder if when we died at a ripe old age we still thought everything we read in The Midrash Says really happened.

This idea of being frozen in one’s intellectual development (or better said, it being a one-way street) can also be seen in the more general idea of overall religious development: No one has a problem with a person that adopts a new chumra. No one sees that as illegitimate. (Although some might rightfully have a problem with chumras because they are often just superficialities, most often, a sincerely and properly done chumra isn’t considered inappropriate.) But if a person takes a good look at themselves and decides that something they’ve been doing for the past ten years is just not right for them, that they’d be much better served using their time or energies in a manner that’s not stipulated by the mishna berura, then it’s something that’s got to be opposed.

It seems to me that there is no real concept of growth in the frum world. Yes, there is some sort of notion that is often spoken about called “growth in frumkeit”. And of course, “growth in learning”. When people talk about “growth in frumkeit” what they really are saying is that the person has developed an increased tolerance for the annoyances of halacha. Either he has adopted some practice that’s even more restrictive and frustrating than previously or he has just learned to accept the aggravation quietly.

Sorry, but that's not real growth. As Ben Chorin says: “This process of rebellion and return can repeat itself many times in a person's lifetime.” True growth can be in any direction. That terrible moment of confusion when you sadly realize that you don’t have a clue as to how things are, when moments earlier you thought you had it all figured out – that’s real growth. Gaining a better sense of self-awareness - that's real growth. Even if that awareness is something which frightens you. (Oh my gosh! Does this mean I don't want to stay in kollel the rest of my life? Nooooooooo!!!)

Sunset

I know this isn't on topic at all, but I figure I could go off on a tangent every so often if it's worthwhile. Check out this absolutely stunning photograph of a sunset taken above the clouds. It's enchanting.