A New Perspective

Far too often than I care for, I'm posed the question of "What made you become non-religious?"

Similarly, I noticed on Rabbi Horowitz's website, he has added a poll, asking basically the same question, "What is (are) the primary cause(s) of children abandoning Yiddishkeit?"

Like Hillel being asked to teach the entire Torah in a brief lesson, I believe that it's impossible to properly address that question with any simplistic answers (at least in my case). Every time I think about the matter, I uncover new dimensions of the issue that seem to shed further light on my choices, and at times, the new insights even contradict perspectives that I had previously, confounding me further.

The other day, as I was sitting in my bed, pondering this never ending quandary, it occurred to me that the discussion might be enhanced somewhat if the question was sharpened just a bit. I realized that in my case, to ask the question of what caused me to become irreligious was too vague, as there were actually two distinct categories of what led me along my path, which can be reflected in the following formulation:

1) What made me want to become non-religious?
2) What made me actually become non-religious?

The distinction highlights that there are two aspects to the process: the experiences, ideas, and emotions that make a person want to leave, and the things that actually allow the person to act on those feelings, which usually are the circumstances in the persons life changing to some degree.

I realized that when people discuss this topic they often mix up the different aspects quite a bit, and one can usually tell from which aspect they may focus on how they fundamentally view the issue.

When you hear people talking about how important it is to keep young people away from those things that might cause them to "go off the derech", what do we usually hear? Internet, college, people from different religious backgrounds, secular media, etc. But if we take a closer look, all those things don't make a person actually want to leave - they just open a door to a world that is off limits to a person. Isn't it strange that they're so afraid of opening a door? Well, it's not really so surprising, because they know very well that so many people, if given a chance to get out, would jump at the soonest opportunity. These things don't make a person want to leave, they just help them make the choice to leave. The seeds of discontent which have brought the person to this point had been lain much earlier, when they were experiencing all the unpleasantness that can be part of a religious upbringing.

So most of the frum world's (and seemingly the Gedolim's too, based on their public pronouncements) strategy against defectors is basically premised on the fact that they know that people don't want to be frum. But they figure if they lock the ghetto doors tight enough they can prevent people from leaving. Or at least keep them in until they're old enough to somehow find some rationale of their own for staying; either due to arriving at some sort of appreciation of their own for being frum, or because they are trapped due to familial and/or social obligations, or some other factor which compels them to adhere to that lifestyle even when no external pressures are present.

Yet so few leaders (if any!) ever address the real issue of why people want to get out. They just talk more and more about how crucial it is to keep people under a tighter and shorter leash, always keeping an eye out on everything that a young person might do, just in case there is some telltale sign of their potential straying. Their whole focus is on restricting access, and tightening the reins, instead of honestly examining what is so fundamentally wrong with their lifestyle that so many people want to get out of it.

I had this confirmed recently in a talk I had with a close relative. We were discussing his choices for where he was going to send his son to high school. It was quite clear to him that his son is not the serious learning type, and is more interested in basketball, music, computers, and other non-torah pursuits. To his credit, he is ok with his son being like that, but he is concerned that if he isn't in a strict torah focused environment, the kid will be at risk of ending up much less seriously religious. I told him that he should let his son go to a school that is less frummie and more accommodating of his child's natural makeup. He says that if he goes to such a school, he runs the risk of ending up less religious, and then who knows what might happen? I knew right then he was thinking of me when he said that, being that when I was a teen, I was just like his son - not interested in being serious about my torah studies, distracted by my own interests, etc. and I ended up going to a less strict yeshiva, and see where I ended up?!

What he (and so many others) just don't get is that my going to the less strict yeshiva, where I had friends from Modern Orthodox families, and where they took secular studies seriously, and where I first listened to non-Jewish music, and flirted with some local girls, and where I was allowed to thrive in a field outside of limudei kodesh, isn't what made me not frum, and it's not even what put me on the path to being not frum. All that environment did for me is to make me feel that I no longer had to hide my long suffering dissatisfactions as much. It allowed me to admit that I wanted things which were forbidden to me. And even to experience them a bit. It allowed me to connect with people who had lives like I wanted to have.

Basically, it allowed me to get in touch with all the things that my yeshiva conditioning had made me repress.

Instead of trying so hard to make me stifle something that was a genuine feeling, maybe if they had actually allowed me to express it openly, and give me an environment where that part of me was able to flourish, there would have been a chance that much of the resentment that was building up inside of me would have dissipated. I don't know, maybe. And although I doubt I ever would have really gotten into frumkeit, maybe I would have been ok with it enough that I wouldn't have felt that I had to get as far away from it as possible. Who knows?

What I do know is that no matter how hard they may have tried to prevent me from being able to leave frumkeit, deep down inside of me, nothing they ever did made me stop wanting to get out.

Rationalizations

A lesson from the yeshiva bochur's playbook:

1) Torah is right and true, and that fact is patently obvious to everyone who bothers to think about it.
2) So, then, how could it be that people don't follow the torah?
3) Because they simply don't care enough about doing what's right.
4) Obviously, no one wants to think of themselves as someone who doesn't care about right and wrong, so in order to let themselves sleep at night, they rationalize and say that really they believe that the torah is not at all true.
5) But of course, we all know that the torah is totally true. From here we see the amazing power of the mind to rationalize and make us change our beliefs when the heart wants to do something that it shouldn't (a.k.a. following the yetzer hara).

This is a basic fact of the world that most any yeshiva guy would be able to tell you. "It's pashut," they would tell you. Simple. And just one of the many unflattering ways in which non-religious people are portrayed in the chareidi world - unprincipled, impulsive hedonists who do whatever they want and then come up with a justification after the fact to rationalize their behavior.

Putting aside the fundamentally flawed premise that the argument rests on, I would actually agree with part of that assertion. I tend to agree that people find ingenious ways to rationalize their behavior all the time. Cognitive dissonance is probably far more prevalent in our lives than we care to acknowledge. We don't ever want to admit that something we are doing may be wrong. But despite that concession, I don't think it's fair or accurate to look at the world the way the chareidi world does.

And specifically in this regard, I think there's another approach which might actually better explain why people stop believing certain things about Judaism when they stop following halacha: It's simply that for many people, the main reason they were believing those ideas in the first place was not out of a conviction of their truth, but rather because they needed to believe in them in order to justify how they lived their lives! And now that they aren't living that lifestyle anymore, they consequently have no need to believe the ideas anymore either!

Think about it: What could possibly justify putting ourselves through the burdens and nuisances of frum life? For most people, the only thing that could really make it worth staying committed to such a demanding responsibility would be if they believe that it really matters in some larger sense. But if they stopped having that massive yoke weighing down on them, they wouldn't have to believe that all of that stuff mattered!

Imagine a person who is trapped in an unhappy relationship, with no chance of ever escaping it. Because they're stuck in it, their mind comes up with all sorts of reasons why this relationship is actually a good thing - how it provides so many benefits, why no one else can see how wonderful it is, how it's the fulfillment of all their deepest wishes, etc. They need those explanations, because without them, the reality of their life is simply too distressing to acknowledge. But if somehow, through some unexpected yet fortuitous turn of events, they managed to escape their prison, do you think they'd retain those views? Would they actually look back on that relationship with any fondness?

This perspective is actually the exact opposite of the frum explanation. They see the situation as people starting with a core belief, and from that conviction their torah observant lifestyle arises - The actions derive from the belief. The way I'm seeing it now is people being straddled with a challenging and difficult lifestyle and needing some rationalization for why they have such a demanding life -The belief is born from the actions. So, according to the frum world, when people's beliefs change in response to the lifestyle changing, it's a result of dishonest rationalizing. The way I see it, when the beliefs change to match the actions, it's actually a more honest expression of who they truly are than when they imposed those beliefs on themselves. In fact, now that I think about it, it was back when they were believing all those ideas, that they were rationalizing more than ever!

Ironic, no? Chareidim look at the rest of the world and see endless rationalizing, yet it may well be that for so many chareidim, it's their ability to rationalize that lets them get by without having to face the inconsistencies and inanities of their lives!

You know, I think they may have been a bit mistaken about something they taught us back in yeshiva: It wasn't Torah that sustained klal yisrael through the ages. It was our ability to rationalize the absurdities of our existence.

Showing Their True Colors

The Wolf recently wrote a post about a correspondence between an anonymous young fellow and a supposedly well known Rav in which the esteemed Rabbi relates his sentiments about the importance of full time learning and those who devote themselves to it. More accurately, he spells out in no uncertain terms his feelings towards those who don’t engage in it full time. Some choice excerpts:

"...there is no question in my mind that you are NOT doing that which HaShem wants you to do."
"...the truth is precisely that: you ARE sub-par!!"
"You are missing everything. I don't understand how you could believe for even a second that your lifestyle is what HaShem wants for us."

I must admit, it’s been a while since I’ve seen anything that so accurately reflects the worldview that I used to subscribe to. The whole thing was like a ride back in a time-machine for me. I could practically envision the Rabbi, standing at the front of the beis medrash, the bochurim looking up at him earnestly, and him repeatedly slamming his hand down on the shtender, shouting at us, "Those who learn one hour a day don't even know what quality in learning is all about! They don’t even know!" (Ahhhh... those were the days...)

I strongly suggest you read the full conversation here. There are so many worthwhile points to highlight from this exchange. Let’s start with the most obvious.

It should be patently clear to one and all the utter derision this rabbi has for those who do not devote themselves to learning. Now, to me, this is not news at all. Throughout the years that I spent in the black-hat world, this message was ingrained in us to a degree that we pretty much knew it was just one more incontrovertible God-given Truth. After all, isn’t it what all the gedolim and tzaddikim throughout history have done?! One can even hear in Rabbi B.’s words an almost confused tone, since he can sense that the guy wants to be a proper Torah Jew, yet the fellow just isn’t grasping something that is taken for granted by any well trained frum kid.

I’m not at all surprised that Rabbi B. is saying what he did. The reason I want to point out his statements though is not to put the focus on him, but rather to show the lie of those who deny the existence of this view. Far too often, when I’m discussing this issue with yeshivish people, they challenge me when I say that the chareidi world promotes a view that disrespects those who don’t devote themselves to learning. People deny that such a sentiment is common among the frum world, and that it is promoted in yeshivas. Well, here we have some irrefutable evidence of just how negatively they view such people. His words are dripping with contempt and condescension: "You are sub-par!", "...you need to think that in order to make you feel good about your lifestyle.", "Anyone who really believes that...is really very very confused.", "You are missing everything." And let’s not forget his blasé disregard for women: "Don’t worry, most girls don’t understand a word about what I am speaking." Actually, what’s even more revealing to me than the content of his words is his tone. He fires off insult after insult, without even a pretense of being remorseful or apologetic. I suspect that he does so not because he’s an insensitive boor, but because he simply doesn’t even realize that he’s being offensive. To him, it’s obvious: some people are less than others - why should anyone have to apologize for stating what’s plainly obvious? His tone shows just how much he takes for granted that his views are immutable truth.

Once again, I don’t want to point at this rabbi as particularly culpable in this regard. I heard these sentiments expressed in such manner over and over by every single rebbe and rosh yeshiva I ever encountered during my years in the yeshivish world. It’s how it’s done in that world, at every level, from the earliest days of kids in cheder to the private chizuk-talks yungerman are given by their roshei yeshiva. This Rabbi is not the least bit unique. As one of the commenter’s said, "...where i live this is the hashkafah of the vast majority of the schools. in terms of high schools specifically, i think we are talking 90% or more (with perhaps some minor variations on the overall theme of the sentiments)."

And herein lies the hypocrisy. Because don’t these same people also endlessly moan about the "crisis" of people who "go off the derech"? Don’t they constantly write and talk about how we need to figure out and understand the causes of why someone would want to leave the frum world? (It’s the Internet. No, it’s movies. Maybe it’s the year in Israel. It’s probably all the sexual imagery nowadays. Could be it’s exposure to secular studies. No, no. It's because he eats chalav stam.) Is it really so hard to figure out? How can anyone in good conscience be surprised that someone would want to leave a society in which they are deemed sub-par?! How can this rabbi - and all those in the yeshivish world who subscribe to this view - honestly claim that they are bothered by the trend of people leaving frumkeit, when they are actively fostering a societal attitude that is pushing them out?

Of course, what I’m pointing out here is not anything new. Much ink has been spilled by people who acknowledge how harmful this view is. But what I want to know is, how does this Rabbi reconcile his stated view with the idea that he wouldn’t want to do anything that would push people away from being frum? Does he not realize what he’s saying? And more importantly - will those figures who claim to be working to solve the problem of "kids-at-risk", directly speak out against this Rabbi? Will they challenge him? Will they demand that those gedolim who he claims support his position explain how they can defend such a view?

Another interesting thing to bring attention to in this exchange is the fellow who is writing to this rabbi. I can’t help wondering, why is the guy even talking to this rabbi? He clearly subscribes to a different world view. He obviously feels that it’s ok not to be in full time learning. That he isn’t less valued, or judged somewhat deficiently in how he lives his life. So why is he looking to convince the rabbi of his view? If he’s confident in his position that he’s still a valued and respected Jew even while he’s not learning as much as Rabbi B says he should, why not just shake his head in amusement at the silly fanatic rabbi, and just go about his merry way?

As I read through the fellow’s replies, I found myself recognizing myself in his words. People often ask me, when I write about how the strictures and conformity of the society I came from contributed to me leaving the chareidi world, "But why did you have to go all the way? Why couldn’t you just have become a bit more moderate and join a Modern-Orthodox community?" It’s definitely a valid question. The truth is that I did live in the MO world for a few years. But throughout all my time there, I never could really get myself to believe in it the way I believed in the Chareidi worldview. (I don’t think it was because of any deficiencies in that particular system, but rather because of the tight grip the Chareidi world still had on my consciousness.) I liked that society, and I had rabbis and friends and even some family telling me that how I lived was perfectly acceptable, that I didn’t have to judge myself by the standards of my former peers, yet it seemed that I still looked towards my former world for validation. Like this sad letter-writer, I was living in a world that had one set of values, but I couldn’t give up on the idea that I should still be respected by those who judged me by a different set of values. I mistakenly believed that we both could see eye to eye.

In fact, the reality was that it wasn’t all just in my head. It wasn't just I that was looking over my shoulder to my former society. It was also them who were actively telling me to "come back." I had many encounters where people would usually implicitly, but sometimes explicitly, make some remark that expressed their disapproval for the life I was living. On the one hand, it would seem that I was outside of their sphere of influence, yet they were often still deliberately attempting to reach in and try to regain their hold on me. Like this Rabbi B. who tells his correspondent (who clearly lives by a different set of rules) how he can’t possibly be living the life that Hashem wants of him, I heard many of those messages from my family and acquaintances as they tried to impress upon me how mistaken my lifestyle was. (I find it especially ironic now, since some of those same people who were telling me then how I shouldn’t be MO because it’s so wrong, are now trying to convince me to adopt a MO religious lifestyle.)

It was only later in life that I realized how all this was actually an early step in my evolution out of the frum world. I was subconsciously realizing that as long as I was still frum, I would never stop judging myself by their standards. And by those standards, I would simply never be good enough. If I ever wanted to respect myself in a real way, I’d have to drastically adjust the basis of my values in a very fundamental way.

I think that this fellow, and so many others like him, do not quite realize the dilemma that they are facing. They think that there is one basic community with essentially a common message, and that they should be able, for the most part, to fit in comfortably anywhere within that nebulous society known as The Torah World. This is the mistake he is making. He doesn’t realize that Rabbi B. regards his view of "Torah Living" as only slightly less bastardized than how he himself would think of a Jews for Jesus adherent’s take on that same concept.

Wake up and smell the coffee, people! You’re not all on the same team! Didn't you learn anything from Slifkin?

Doing Your Own Thing

Back when I was religious, and struggling to fit into the frum worlds norms and mores, I would have many discussions with people about the problems that I saw and the difficulties I had in fitting into that society. Very often, people would say to me, "So don’t worry about what society does. Do you own thing!" Similarly, during the years that I lived in the Modern-Orthodox community, I was constantly judging myself by the standards of the chareidi world. When I spoke to people about this tension, they would say to me, "You shouldn’t judge yourself by what others think! Do what you think is right!"

As much as the idea appealed to me, I never really could take it too seriously. I used to think that was because I just didn’t have the backbone to be so independent. That might have been partly true, but another way to look at it (although I didn’t realize it at the time, and I doubt that those people who gave me that advice realized it themselves - since they were quite religious themselves) is that the idea of "doing your own thing" actually goes against one of the basic tenets of what my frum upbringing had taught me: The community (i.e. the torah, God, etc) sets the rules, not you. You can’t just do what you think is right, you have to follow the torah. If, back when I was in yeshiva, I had ever responded to my rebbe’s insistence that I observe some halacha with, "No, I truly don’t think it’s right, and I should do what I think is right!" rest assured, it wouldn’t have gotten me very far. Of course, it was understood that whenever people gave me such advice, they meant for me to stay in the realm of what halacha considers acceptable and that I should have chosen an option from within that spectrum of choices. But even within that range, the idea contradicted something much more fundamental: It suggested that I could somehow make a decision for myself in regards to my life, when all along I had been taught that I had to follow the advice of my rabbeim, or the gedolim, or da’as torah, or whoever it was, since they obviously knew much better than I did what was right for me. I suppose that if I had possessed any critical thinking skills at the time, I would have responded with, "No, I’m not allowed to do what I think is right! I have to do what my rabbeim tell me is right!" Of course, if they had possessed any of those same critical thinking skills, they probably wouldn’t have made the suggestion in the first place. (I guess it’s just one more example of the dual and contradictory messages that the frum world sends out, yet which very few people actually pick up on.)

The real irony is that, when you think about it, I actually did end up taking that advice very seriously! I do live my life now by what I think is right and not what other people tell me is right. Yet, I have yet to meet a frum person who thinks that’s ok!

The Four Sons

What does The Wise Son say?

I love Yiddishkeit! It's so inspiring! It's so meaningful! It's so beautiful! And most of all - it's so true! There is nothing more wonderful than knowing that everything we do in our lives, from the trivial to the most significant, is according to the traditions of our ancestors, handed down to us through the ages. Even when there is no tradition about an aspect of life, we know that we can follow the example of our gedolim, and look to their behavior as a guide for how we should live our lives. And to top it off, what is most incredible about our brilliant Torah way of life, is that we have an internal checks-and-balances system, so that if the community considers any activity or idea inappropriate, even if expressed by a respected Rav, we have built-in ways to reconcile the conflict. For example, we sometimes resolve such difficulties by explaining that only certain people (on very high spiritual levels) are able to have such ideas, or behave in such ways. The rest of us, who aren't on such high levels, must follow the established practice. It makes total sense.

We learn this idea from Avraham Avinu. As we all know, Avraham was the forefather of our nation, and since it's well established that "maisa avos siman l'banim" (the actions of the fathers are signs for the sons), we try to learn as much as possible from the life of Avraham, in order to instruct us how to live our lives. But doesn't the midrash teach us that Avraham came to a recognition of God through carefully examining nature and reality and using his incredibly sharp, gemara-honed, critical thinking abilities to conclude that there must be a Divine Creator? And didn't he end up challenging the established idol-worshipping religious authorities in his time? Wouldn't that mean that we should also try to look at life with the tools we have and carefully examine any evidence we have regardless of where it might lead us? Yes, one might think that, but they'd be sadly mistaken. Because the torah also teaches us that "niskatnu hadoros" - the generations have degraded over time (also known as "They were great enough to do that. But we aren't.") We can't compare our puny imperfect selves to the righteousness that was Avraham Avinu. Only Avraham was great enough to use his intellectual faculties to explore reality in the way he did. We, unfortunately, are not great enough to think about such things in that way. Only Avraham had the right to take a personal stand when it went against the popular view. Only Avraham was allowed to challenge God when he felt that God was telling him to do something that went against his personal sense of justice (like we see at Sodom). The rest of us are obviously not at the level of Avraham and must learn to ignore the protests of our conscience when they go against what God (i.e. the torah (i.e. the rabbis (i.e. halacha))) tells us to do.

We see from all this that we must be careful in how we learn lessons from our leaders. When the example of the leader fits our accepted tradition of what's true and proper, then we can be sure that the gadol is leading us properly, and we must follow him exactly as his da'as torah instructs us. However, when the gadol is doing something that we know isn't what should be done, we must realize that only he is able to do such exceptional things, because of his unique spiritual level, just like Avraham Avinu. Only his distinctive ability to understand the true nature of what Hakadosh Baruch Hu wants of us grants him this ability to be different in this rare situation. The rest of us, as we all know, are not on such a high level, and should never be so arrogant to think that we too can behave thusly.

This is the beauty and wisdom of Torah living! Ashreinu Mah Tov Chelkelinu!

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What does The Wicked Son say?

Isn't this all a bit dishonest? I don't get it. You say you follow your gedolim, and listen to whatever they say, but you only seem to do so when it's convenient for you, when it fits into how you would like things to be. When the gadol's behavior or ideas doesn't fit with your preconceived notions of how things should be, then you pull out some convenient saying or concept to explain why their example is an exception and need not be followed: "Hora'as Sha", "niskatnu hadoros", "it's a minority opinion", "eis la'asos", "yesh al mi lismoch", "minhag yisroel torah", whatever it is, there's always something you can rely on to write off the opinions and examples that you'd prefer to avoid following. There always seems to be some idea which you can apply to the circumstance to produce the result that you want and still claim a fealty to torah concepts. You clearly have a set way that you want to be, and despite your claim of faithfully following what your leaders ask of you, your loyalty is to your own interests. I'm sorry, I know this doesn't sound kind, but it's honestly how I see it. What, you want me to muzzle myself because that doesn't sound reverent enough? I'm not trying to be disrespectful. I'm trying to be honest. Don't you want my honest opinion? Isn't speaking ones true opinions, no matter how unpopular they may be, a worthwhile value?

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What does The Simple Son say?

Yeah, sure I love Yiddishkeit. It's wonderful knowing that we're living our lives properly, acting according to Hashem's will. Yeah, it's true, sometimes the things we're supposed to do don't really seem so appropriate to me, but that's ok, because whenever I speak to my Rebbe, he shows me just how to make sense of it all. It's my fault actually. I get confused too easily. Because I don't try hard enough in gemara class. After all, doesn't the gemara say, "If you didn't succeed, you must not have really tried hard enough!" So, I know I'm just not at the level to always understand things properly. Like, the other day, when I learned in yeshiva how we should always follow the example of our gedolim, and I decided to try to be just like Rav Levi Yukelovich who I had just read was always friendly to people on the street (I read it in the new Artscroll biography about him). I figured, hey, that's a good thing to do, I like people, why not? So the other day when I was on the bus going to yeshiva, I decided to chat with the shvartza woman sitting near me. She seemed nice and was reading a book I had heard about so I asked her about it. We had a brief but pleasant conversation about it, and I thought I had just done a pretty cool thing, but later on that day, Rav Shmuel, the principal, called me into his office to talk to me about it. I'm not sure how he knew about it, but I think I noticed Chaim Yankel Friedman was on the bus too and he must have said something. Anyway, Rav Shmuel explained to me that I shouldn't be talking to goyim, ever; that it was best if I didn't even look at them. I asked him why, and he told me that they could be a bad influence on me. When I told him that that couldn't be true because the book said that Rav Levi talked to strangers all the time, he explained to me that I had misunderstood what the book meant. First of all, he explained to me, Rav Levi probably only talked to strangers who were frum Yidden. (That made sense. I'm not sure why I didn't think of that.) And additionally, he said, Rav Levi only did this sort of thing when he was older and could protect himself from their negative influence, not when he was only a young yeshiva bochur. Back when he was my age, he no doubt only spoke to people from his frum neighborhood. You see, this is why it's important to have a rebbe who you're close to, so he can explain to you when you're not understanding things right. It's so important. And afterwards, when I asked the principal why Rav Levi would have to protect himself from the negative influences of strangers, if they were anyway frum Yidden, he told me that if I would only try as hard to understand Rashi and Tosfos like I do his own words, I would most definitely be at the top of my class, so why was I being lazy all the time? He's right, I guess I am lazy. That's another reason to have a close rebbe, so he can always encourage you to try harder and strive for gadlus. Like Rav Levi Yukelovich.

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What does The Son Who Does Not Ask say?

He doesn't say anything, just sits there quietly, thinking to himself, watching those around him, trying to make some sense of the contradictory rhetoric that he hears from everyone around him. Should he speak up? Last time he chimed in, his brother reprimanded him for not speaking with the proper respect. How was he supposed to know that you have to refer to the rabbi a certain way?! He was just trying to make sense of the man's commentary. Oops, did it again! Can't say that! It's not just "some man's commentary" - it's "the heilege Ramban"! Well, he didn't care who the guy was, the explanation just didn't seem to ring true to him. And the other time he spoke up, he wasn't trying to take a position, but his other brother pounced on him for being so gullible. Why is he so cynical anyway? All he did was mention how he liked the way the writer explained the issue from a psychological perspective and his brother laughed at him for taking things so literally. Geez! Why say anything that's in his head anyway, he thinks to himself. He knows that to really be accepted, he'll have to toe the party line anyway and stifle the thoughts that are really running through his head. If he really expressed himself, he's be thrown out of yeshiva for saying the things he believes, so why should he risk opening his mouth? Better to stay low, pretend to everyone like he's fully on board and bide his time until he's free to make his own choices. Of course, he's aware that course of action might not work out so well either, as evidenced by the recent goings-on with his friend Moishy. He grimaces inwardly as he reminded himself about that recent fiasco. Moishy's brother had just started attending college in the city. Now Moishy's sister was having shidduch problems and Moishy's father had started going to another shul. "Why'd his idiot brother have to go ahead and do that?!" he thinks to himself. "Now my family is always whispering about the Schwartz's and I'm not allowed to hang out with my best friend anymore." Selfish bastard. "Why can't his stupid brother just suck it up and go along with the routine like everyone else does? If I can fake it my whole life, and keep my mouth shut about what I really think, why couldn't he?"

"Yes," he thinks to himself. "Better not to speak up at all," he concludes, as he nods along politely while his family continues their discussion.

The Exit Interview

In Rabbi Horowitz's latest article he writes about the concept of the "Exit Interview". Overall, I think it's a worthwhile read. After going over it, I found myself thinking more and more about this concept of the Exit Interview, and after some time, it made me figure out something that's been bothering me for a really long time.

The analogy of the exit interview is a truly excellent one. Because an institution that truly cared about improving itself would eagerly want to do such a thing, and they'd want to be brutally honest about it. And it wouldn't be afraid to face the flaws that such an inquiry might reveal about itself. Frum society likes to think that it does these sort of exercises. When a problem finally becomes big enough that the public starts grumbling about it and the leadership can no longer ignore (or deny) it, that's when we usually start to see some sort of activity. Articles start being printed. The issue gets talked about at conventions. Organizations start. Studies are done. Reports are published. Experts are trotted out. Panels are held. Tehillim starts being said for it. And you know that it really has their full attention when it's pronounced "a crisis".

It's all crap, in my opinion. It's a farce. It's all just empty gestures. Ok, not totally empty, but not anything worth applauding. Because no one really is seriously responding to, admitting to, and most definitely not addressing any real issues. If we pictured some actual "Exit Interviews" at a real company that were conducted similarly to how the frum world responds, I imagine they would look something like the following exchanges:

Company Representative: Please tell us what we're doing wrong.
Former Customer: I think your service sucks.
CR: What are you talking about?! Our service is the best. If you don't like it, you're obviously the one with the problem, not us! Can't you see how many satisfied customers we have!

CR: Why are you leaving our company?
FC: Your service doesn't provide anything of value to me.
CR: What do you mean no value? How can you say that? You're just not using it properly!
FC: Maybe not. But I tried it for 10 years and it didn't do squat. I think that's enough time to try something.
CR: No, you're just not doing it right! Stick around and we'll show you how to really do it. You just need to try harder!

CR: Why are you going to our competitor?
FC: They offer me much more of what I'm looking for.
CR: No, you're mistaken. They're lying to you. We're really the best. We're the only ones that matter! If you go to them, you're going to regret it terribly.
FC: Are you kidding me? Look how many successful people are with them!
CR: No, it's all a lie. They're not really successful! Our people are the only ones who have real success! Really!

CR: Tell us why you're leaving our company.
FC: I found your representatives insulting, abusive, manipulative, obnoxious, and all around offensive.
CR: No, that can't be. You're just leaving because you're angry.

CR: Tell us why you're leaving our company.
FC: I'm leaving because I'm angry with you! You people don't respect me, you ignore my needs, and you make my life miserable!
CR: Oh, please! You sound like you have some emotional problems you need to deal with. Stop blaming us for your problems.

CR: Tell us why you're leaving our company.
FC: I find that you're not meeting my emotional needs.
CR: It doesn't matter how you feel! We're the only ones who are based on truth! And we've been around the longest! You have to stick with what's proven, and not go with what the latest popular fad is.

CR: Why are you leaving us?
FC: I think you're business model is a crock of sh*t and founded on a pack of lies. Totally unsustainable.
CR: No, you're really just angry. You were probably abused. You know, it's just dishonest to try to rationalize your emotional reactions with intellectual justifications. What's really going on is that you're not prepared to make a commitment.

CR: Why are you leaving us?
FC: Your company abused its customers, lied to the public, and covered it up for years!
CR: Impossible! You're making that up!
FC: It's not impossible. And it's true.
CR: You're always looking to bad-mouth us! Don't you know how much good we do?!

CR: Why are you leaving us?
FC: I find your company out of touch with its customers. You don't know what the hell is going on in today's market. And your executives are totally misinformed about how things are running in the company.
CR: What?! How can you say that!? Do you know who our CEO is?! Do you know how many degrees he has?! Do you know how many billions of dollars he's amassed?! He'll make more money in one minute than you'll ever make in your lifetime. Who do you think you are to question our executives? Misinformed?! Our board knows more about the market than anyone else out there! You have no idea how many connections they have and how much they do behind the scenes! It only looks like they're not doing much because they try to stay out of the public eye. But really, they're the ones holding it all together! You have no idea!

CR: Why are you leaving us?
FC: Why am I leaving you? I've been trying to tell you for years why I want to get out. I just never had the opportunity or the guts! You've never listened to a word I've said!
CR: You're acting impulsively! Come, have some kugel and we'll talk about it. Can't you see how concerned we are for you?
FC: Oh, now you're concerned?! That's really convincing! If you were really concerned, how could you have let things gotten to where they are now!? Don't you see how screwed up everything is!?
CR: Oh, please, stop exaggerating. It's not that bad!

CR: Why are you leaving us?
FC: You obviously don't value your customers. You treat us like children. You try to control every aspect of our relationship!
CR: You misunderstand. We truly do value you. But we know that our way is really the best way for you. Trust us. We know what's best for you. We're just trying to look out for your best interests.

CR: Why are you leaving us?
FC: How can I possibly stay with you? Your clearly do not have my best interests at heart.
CR: No, we truly do care about you. We care about every customer. You wouldn't believe it, but our executives cry themselves to sleep trying to figure out the best way to serve you! We promise!
FC: Really? Then how come I lost all my money when I followed their advice?

CR: Why are you leaving us?
FC: To be honest, I just can't keep up. You're standards are just too demanding for me. I'd like something a bit easier to handle.
CR: Well, our standards are absolute. We don't bend just because someone can't handle it. Either you keep up, or maybe you really should be finding someplace else.

CR: Why are you switching to a different group in the company?
FC: Well, I found a different group where I feel much more comfortable. In fact, I'm glad I didn't have to leave the company entirely, I want to stay with your company, but your department's style and standards weren't a good match for me. Now, I'm still in the company, but without the discomfort I had prior.
CR: No way! You're not serious, are you?! That division sucks! They don't know what they're doing! They're just pretending! Believe us, its not worth investing in that group. Those guys are idiots! And you've got to be an idiot to join up with them!

Yes, they're parodies, and exaggerated (but only slightly). But they all illustrate how the frum world just doesn't really understand what this process is supposed to be about. They say they want to know, but then they just defend themselves. This isn't what listening is supposed to be about. They're mouthing the words, "We care", but their body language and tone very clearly says, "Go screw yourself." And when faced with real issues, they just keep on denying it in some way.

Yeah, the frum world likes to think they go through lots of "soul searching." And to their credit they actually have finally come to grips with some of the serious problems in their society. But they never really want to admit the real problems. They won't admit how it was some of their society's values and the insistence that their lifestyle is the ultimate, the perfect, the God-ordained lifestyle and society, that caused those problems to become so pervasive.

You can't pat yourself on the back for saying "Oy! There's sexual abuse in the community!" when you were the ones preventing anything from being done about sexual abuse for decades! Your act of "coming clean" about that abuse might be admirable, but it just deflects from the much more deeply rooted problem that you were a society that allowed child molesters to get away with their shit for decades! (And still do!)

I remember ten years ago when they first raised the issue of how kids were dropping out of yeshiva. And all the articles, and all the experts, and of course all the Gedolim (well, some of them), concluded then that there needs to be more remedial learning, and people shouldn't be held to such high standards, and that they need to give everyone a chance to become a successful learner, not just the smarter guys. So they started new programs. And they adjusted curriculums. They were so proud of themselves for all they were doing, their Jewish Observer Special Editions, and their panels, and their "tackling the issues", and I was just disgusted by it all, because never at any point did someone say, "Hey, instead of all that crap, maybe we should just stop teaching our children that they have to be learners to have value in our society?" The real problem was never addressed, never raised, never even mentioned. And from what I can tell they still haven't seriously said that. (But there are more people realizing it, thankfully.) But of course they won't look at the real, underlying issue, because that would mean they'd have to reexamine one of their core values and see if it really is working for them like a Torah True(TM) value is supposed to.

Besides for all that avoidance of looking at the deeper issues, there is still so much denial about problems even when they're being spoken about outright. People just don't listen to what is being said. The following exchange actually happens all the time:

Yeshiva Guy: I really don't believe in God, Judaism, Torah, all of it.
Rabbi: No, you don't know what you're talking about. You just want to have sex.

When you're in the frum world, you're taught how to see the world, how to see life, how to see people, how to process and understand all that you may encounter. And no matter what others tell you, about themselves, about their choices, about their experiences, about their values - if you've been properly indoctrinated, you know better than them. After all, you're frum. You have the Torah perspective. You have the Gedolim. You have Da'as Torah informing you. How could they possibly know more about life than you. You have the Shulchan Aruch guiding you. Those other people have nothing, only MTV and the Internet. How sad for them. And they don't even know it!

That's why this whole pretense of doing an exit interview, of being self-critical and truly looking at why people are leaving is just a farce. Because the frum world never really thinks there's anything wrong with their system. They believe their system is Torah True, through and through. It's the system God wants there to be. It's the system frum yidden have been living by for the past 3000 years! It's the system guided by generations of gedolim going back to Moshe Rabbeinu! There are no flaws in God's system. Yes, they acknowledge, at times things might not be working out exactly right. But that's not a problem with the system. That's only a problem in the implementation. Somewhere, at some juncture, we're just not doing something exactly right, and we'll investigate that, but the system is as sound as ever!

That's not a true self-examination. That isn't honesty. That's just an infantile way to make yourself feel like you're doing something to better yourself while allowing yourself to maintain the fantasy that everything about your life is just fine.

You're all so full of it.

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PS - I invite the readers to submit their own interview exchanges.

Happy Halloween!

I have a confession to make. I'm terrified of Halloween. Ok, maybe terrified is a bit of an exaggeration, but I find it quite unnerving.

In fact, I'm supposed to go out tonight to hear someone speak but I'm actually considering staying home and skipping the talk. Is this ridiculous or what?!

When I told my friends about this, they all laughed at it, surprised that I would be feeling this way, and to be honest, I was just as surprised as they were. Why was I feeling this way? It was quite unsettling, more so the fact that I was scared than the fear itself, but when I took a closer look at the issue it became quite clear what was causing this irrational anxiety.

As a kid it was understandable to be scared. We were told that bad things happened to people who were out that night. But these weren't just things said to scare us. The local yeshiva actually sent the kids home early on Halloween so no one would be out after nightfall. Besides the innocent mischief like TP'ing a house or spraying shaving cream, vandalism and violence were common, or so we were told. My parents instructed us never to open the door that night, no matter who was knocking. Additionally, my first year of high school I attended a yeshiva where many years earlier someone had actually been murdered on Halloween. Ever since, the week of Halloween every yeshiva guy walking the few blocks from the dorm to the beis medrash had a police escort to accompany him. So with these early impressionable experiences, its easy to see how I could have gained such an ambivalent view of the day (and no doubt a few horror movies along the way didn't help matters much).

After that first year of high school, I attended yeshivas where the bochurim were on a private campus and pretty much isolated from the larger community. We probably weren't even aware of it when Halloween passed us by. The years after high school I was in Israel during Halloween, where nobody even acknowledges it whatsoever.

So this year, finding myself back in the US of A, is the first time since the age of 13 that I am really experiencing an actual Halloween. And after thinking about it, I realized that the reason I'm feeling scared is because I'm still looking at Halloween through the eyes of a frightened 13 year old. Because I haven't actually encountered, or even thought about the holiday all these years, I still have the same juvenile sentiments that I had about it all those years ago, when my last impressions were sincere dread and fear. What I needed to do is reexamine the issue with a mature perspective. It seemed absurd, but evidently there were irrational, childish fears that because they were never thought about or addressed, had lain dormant within me for many years, never being resolved the way other such notions had been.

This lesson really drove home a point I once wrote about in a previous blog post. As I said there:

"...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."

So many ideas are drilled into us in our youths. Some overtly, some subtly, most very deeply. If we don't directly face these issues, they will stay with us forever, lying quietly within our hearts and minds, waiting for the moment, probably many years later when we least expect them, to resurface and wreak havoc in our lives, our daily routines, our relationships. They will throw us off balance, causing us to question ourselves and misstep. It's imperative to understand these long forgotten patterns of thought and undo them before they can affect us adversely. Like our rabbeim taught us about doing teshuva - it's like cleaning for chametz: You have to vigorously hunt for every possible trace of it, dig deep down to find it, and then when you do, you have to work hard to eradicate it and it's influence on you.

Rebbe, I accept your teaching. Have a most Happy Halloween! ;-)

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Follow-Up From The Day After: I actually had a wonderful time all day long, seeing all the kids decked out so cute and the adults with some wild and wacky costumes was tons of fun and actually reminded me of Purim in Jerusalem. I was in midtown in the evening and the crowd was just so lively and fun. It was great! The subways and streets were just full of delightful sights. There was nothing uncomfortable about it whatsoever, and besides easily helping me overcome my irrrational phobia, experiencing all this also reinforced my belief that so much of what I was taught in my youth about non-Jews is such a bunch of sh*t. And just in case someone might say that no adults actually still believe that crap, I'll add that I spoke to a frum relative that evening and when I described my experience, he was shocked that there was anything enjoyable about it. He wasn't risking going out unless it was absolutely necessary.

The Evolution Of My Disbelief - Part I

A friend recently asked me, "What got you to stop believing?" I was ready to respond with a few memorable incidents that I distinctly recalled strongly affected some of my former perspectives, but I stopped myself short, because I realized that his query was much too vague. Although I understood that he was referring to a general belief in Judaism, his ambiguous formulation didn't do the question justice. What got me to stop believing what? Traditionally, not every belief in Judaism is considered essential. And not every essential belief must be subscribed to in the absolute sense. Answering him with an example of a minor setback in my faith wouldn't paint an accurate picture. Further clarification was necessary. What aspect of belief was he referring to? Belief in the whole entire Judaism? Belief in God? Belief in the Divine nature of the Torah? Belief that the Torah is all literally true? Belief in Revelation? Belief in certain halachos? Belief that all these beliefs are essential? Before answering the question of "What caused me to stop believing?", I needed to specify exactly which belief it was that I would be speaking about.

Before I proceed any further, there is an issue on which I need to elaborate a bit: As is well known, within Judaism in general, there are many core beliefs that are demanded of a religious Jew, such as belief in one God, belief in the Torah, belief in the binding nature of halacha, etc. These are some of the central, fundamental areas of Jewish belief. But within the ideology of Chareidi Judaism, there are countless additional beliefs that - although never explicitly delineated - demand equal, if not greater, adherence and loyalty. Some of these issues might seem trivial and mundane, but because they are considered an essential part of how Chareidi Jews observe Yiddishkeit, they become articles of faith with as much import as the established and better known ideas.

To my mind (as it saw the world back then), and I believe to the mind of any properly indoctrinated Chareidi person, one doesn't just believe that Judaism is true. One believes that CHAREIDI JUDAISM is true. And the beliefs of Chareidi Judaism which its educators and leadership make efforts to bolster and promote do not revolve around issues of God, or Sinai, or veracity of the Bible, or historicity of the Mesorah. Those issues are so taken for granted as accepted truth that they never enter the discussion whatsoever. No, our articles of faith were about a totally different list of beliefs. Rather than making statements about the rightness of Judaism, our list of beliefs underscored the rightness of Chareidi life:

We believed that all chareidi people were honest and moral. We believed that the gedolim never made mistakes. We believed that no respectable frum Jew would ever own a TV (let alone admit to it). We believed that wearing a black hat and jacket (and white shirt) was imperative. We believed that anyone who observed halacha as he was supposed to was inevitably a very happy and contended person. We believed that all proper Jews throughout history believed what we did, and practiced what we did, and that going back through the generations, they all were essentially Chareidi Jews (including the Rishonim, Tannaim, Nevi'im and even the Avos). We believed that all the fantastical and miraculous tales of the great rabbis of previous generations were all true (and if they didn't really happen, well, at least, they could have happened!). We believed that there is nothing more worthwhile and important in life than studying Torah. We believed that all traces of modernity were forbidden. We believed that every instruction and directive that our gedolim told us was right and just. We believed that every Torah idea spoken by a respected rabbi (chareidi, of course) was true in every way. We believed that every halacha, every minhag, every detail of our lifestyle was the way it was because that's how God wanted it. We believed that Rashi's pshat was what the Torah meant to say. We believed that frum marriages were bastions of happiness and fulfillment. We believed that Modern Orthodox Jews didn't really care about what mattered in life (i.e. halacha, torah, yiras shamayim, etc.). We believed that if you wore a colored shirt, or went to college, or participated in popular culture, or didn't strive to learn in kollel for the rest of your life, or didn't adopt as many chumros as you could, well then, there was obviously some deficiency in your moral character. We believed that every word of advice our gedolim dispensed was for our well being and in our best interests. We believed that all goyim were immoral and unethical (aside from the occasional exception). We believed that the "outside world" and all that it contained was a terrible, evil place, designed to tempt and seduce us from the proper path. And most of all, we believed all this unequivocally and absolutely, without any doubt in our puny little minds.

Like I said above, these ideas might seem absurd. But they were fed to us with the conviction of absolute, unadulterated truth, and violation or contradiction of any of these implicit principles was met with condemnation on par with denying any of the explicitly stated articles of faith. No one ever contemplated challenging these precepts. (Actually, I do recall an incident where a bochur in my class openly said, "I'm not interested in learning Gemara. It's boring." From the stunned reaction of the rebbe and the collective gasp from us classmates you would have thought he just confessed to something as heinous as masturbating on a sefer torah.)

So, for me, the things that initially got me to question my beliefs were not philosophical or existential difficulties that challenged those core issues of Judaism. No, for me, what shook me up were revelations that challenged the ideas which were a part of Chareidi Judaism.

When I discovered that not all respectable Jews subscribed to everything the gedolim demanded, I was shocked beyond belief. But, but.... how could they?!
When I read books about Jewish history that told me things that didn't conform to my understanding of the past, I was terribly troubled. This couldn't be true!
When I was told that I didn't have to be a learner, I simply refused to acknowledge it at first. That's ridiculous!
When I discovered sincere and irrefutable frumkeit and yiras shamayim in those people who were condemned as "not really frum", I was shaken beyond belief. But I thought....?
When I heard a non-Jewish song that moved me in a most meaningful way, I didn't know how to process it. How could this be? Isn't it all pritzus?
When I read a non-Jewish book full of ethical and moral ideas, I was totally confused. There was only one way to explain it. He must have gotten it from us.
When I discovered that some of the niggunim (tunes) which were used to accompany our holy prayers were taken from non-Jews I was aghast. Impossible!
When I discovered that various established minhagim may well have had sources in non-Jewish practices, I was deeply disturbed. This can't be. Someone's making something up.
When I realized that gedolim have political agendas and even try to rewrite history, I was devastated.
When I saw my Rosh Yeshiva spin a Torah idea one way on Monday, then another way on Tuesday, I realized that Torah and Truth were not as synonymous as I had thought, or at the very least, Rabbis and Truth, or Rabbis and Torah, or whatever it was, I no longer even knew myself.
When I discovered Rabbis with impeccable Chareidi credentials doing and saying all sorts of things that didn't fit the stereotype of how a Chareidi Jew is supposed to behave, I was totally confused. Now who am I supposed to believe?

These and so many other revelations and experiences continued to challenge my preconceived notions. At first, I tried to resist them, dutifully maintaining the beliefs they had instilled in me. People were lying to me. Distorting the truth. I couldn't trust the people who were telling me these things. I must consult my Rosh Yeshiva so he can explain to me how to understand these things. But eventually, I could no longer withstand the mounting challenges. It was irrefutable. The truisms that I had believed to be as certain as the sunrise fell by the wayside, one after another. Over time I gradually discovered more and more that led me to realize how false this thing called Chareidi Judaism really was. The more walls that fell down, the more disingenuousness I discovered.

All this didn't immediately lead me to reject the central precepts of Judaism. Those challenges arose much later in my transition. At this point, I never even considered that the fundamentals of Judaism were in any doubt. For now, I was only discovering how specious the religion of Chareidi Judaism was. But since I equated Chareidi Judaism with real, authentic Judaism, I was deeply unsettled by these revelations.

I have no doubt that many people are reading this and getting very pissed off that I'm pointing at all these trivial and superficial notions and referring to them as central tents of Chareidi ideology. I admit that if you asked any Chareidi Jew if any of these things are really as important as belief in Torah M'Sinai, they'd think you were nuts. But actions speak louder than words. These "trivial" issues matter to people a lot. These are the things that are focused on in yeshiva. These are the ideas that the stories they tell are meant to prove. It is these issues that a person going through yeshiva thinks about when he thinks of being a proper Jew. Obvious issues like the importance of keeping halacha aren't addressed. Such things are as taken for granted as wearing pants. They don't teach why a person should keep halacha; they teach why a person shouldn't keep halacha like a MO person does. It may sound absurd, but normative Judaism is not what they teach in yeshivas, and if you think about it, of course they can't teach that, because so many of the groups whom they deplore claim to practice Judaism: MO, Tzionim, Conservative, etc. They need to distinguish themselves from those deemed unacceptable, and they do that by stressing these minor issues as significant and crucial. They may not really be the true tenets of a Chareidi Jew, but to a teen going through a Chareidi yeshiva (and to many adults who have gone through the system), they are as close to gospel as it gets.

Some people may read this and think to themselves, "That's ridiculous! So your fairy tale image of something that never existed was shattered. That's not a basis for rejecting Judaism!" I agree. All this does not claim to explain or justify why I would fully leave observance. But that was not the subject which is being addressed. What I'm doing here is answering the question of "What got me to stop believing?" That question can only be addressed when we first examine what the ideas were that I believed in so earnestly. As I explained, I believed in a mythological religion called Chareidi Judaism, which consisted of many detailed ideas, histories, figures, and practices. That's what I first stopped believing in, and it didn't take much to shatter those beliefs. Just a little reading outside the approved literature.... a few innocent meetings with people outside my frum ghetto.... some honest and unbiased questioning of assumed notions.... a little exploration outside the establishment.... once those fallacious beliefs were exposed to the light of reality, it became abundantly clear how little foundation they really had to stand upon.

Fulfillment

What makes you feel good? What provides you satisfaction? What gives you a sense of achievement?

A friend of mine who is a respected and accomplished pediatrician recently related to me about a past relationship that she went through. She explained, "I liked him a lot. But I simply couldn't stay with him. He had a very archaic perspective of women and he never really respected me for who I was or what I could be. To him a woman is always second-rate to a man, and even though he didn't overtly treat me badly, I knew that he never truly appreciated me. Even though I love what I do, and am successful and accomplished in my field, to his mind, I should be staying at home, doing what he thinks is right for me. I can't be with someone who views me, and the world, like that."

When I heard those words, something in my mind clicked. What she described was exactly how I recall feeling when I was living in the chareidi world. I don't think I ever consciously articulated it that way, but when I heard them, the words resonated within me. In fact, not only didn't I ever express it back then, I doubt I even realized it until I left that community.

That boyfriend who treated her well was just like that yeshiva society that I grew up in. They never truly treated me badly. They didn't abuse me in any way. Overall, they were kind to me in many ways and treated me quite decently. Even went out of their way at times to show me how much they cared for me. But underneath all that kindness, there was something very basic lacking in the way they viewed me.

I only understood it after I left that world. After I found myself among people who appreciated my skills, my talents, my very nature; who appreciated me for what I could contribute without forcing me to be something I wasn't.

I finally realized that that chareidi world that professed such concern for me never ever truly valued me.

They had a vision of what I should be. A talmid chacham. It's what they value most of all and what they feel each male should be striving for. Anything a person may accomplish aside from that lofty goal is tolerated as a mere consolation prize in the contest of human achievement.

But that's not what I am, nor what I ever wanted to be. It was only after I entered a totally different realm of religious society that I found people respecting me, seeking my input, appreciating my skills, in ways unrelated to any halachic or torah related issues. Only then did I experience that inner satisfaction which made me feel that I was truly valued.

Every society is entitled to have their own barometers of success. I can respect that. But if the qualities which earn one respect are those which a large segment of the society do not strive for, how can they honestly claim to be surprised when people seek their validation elsewhere? Is it any wonder that a person who can never feel truly valued in the chareidi world would want to leave?

I Hear You...

Chareidi people are nice. They are generous. They are giving. They are welcoming. Obviously, as we all know, there are exceptions to the rule, but for the most part, barring unusual circumstances, my experience with individuals in the chareidi community has been positive and pleasant.

Yet at times one encounters statements from the chareidi world that belie such sensitivity. Remarks that reveal an antagonism that seems quite at odds with the kind and accepting impression they give off. Sometimes those statements are couched in editorials that cleverly mask their derision. Other times the contempt is so blatant that one can't help but be shocked at the brazenness of the affront. Most of the time, those who are charged with presenting a chareidi perspective to the outside world are savvy enough to know how to make their points without insulting anyone (or any institution) outright. For example, writers such as Jonathan Rosenblum or Avi Shafran, whom you will usually find in publications such as The Jewish Observer or Hamodia, or occasionally in non-Orthodox organs. But at times, one can read comments from chareidi writers that are practically dripping with condescension. In publications like Yated (in their articles, editorials, and letters sections) or on blog comment threads from anonymous figures, one can read statements that are anything but accepting. On the contrary, they are mean-spirited, exclusionary, offensive, smugly superior, and contemptuous. They consistently insult anyone or anything that falls outside the rubric of their narrowly defined daled amos of halacha. It can be a person, maybe a rabbi, a teacher, or a public figure who's the target of their scorn. It may be an institution, such as a school, shul, or organization that will find itself under attack. It may even be a practice that is being adopted (or already is the accepted norm) in some communities which will be the focus of their ire. But whatever it is, there is so often a tone underlying the writers point that bespeaks a truly ugly sentiment.

Let me make myself clear. I have no problem with the fact that they disagree with some things. Even many things. In my humble opinion, every group is entitled to draw its own lines where it deems fitting (within reason of course) and is entitled to present its case to the public as much as is necessary to further its cause. I have no truck with people disagreeing and/or arguing.

But why do they have to always be so negative? So disrespectful? So self-righteous?

I was reminded of this tendency when reading a blog post on the well known chareidi mouthpiece Cross Currents. That blog used to be on my regular blog reading list, but I stopped reading it ages ago after I found my comments being censored and I got tired of reading put-downs of other Jewish denominations. But recently I was pointed to this blog post about a woman who was hired as the spiritual leader of a shul in NYC. On the DovBear blog, Krum as a Bagel wrote a response to the CC post, and in the comments section there were a few people who made the following statements:

"What is it with Menken and Cross-Currents? Why are they continuously so mean spirited?"

"90% of Cross-Currents is nasty, smarmy rhetoric. Really, it makes me sick to identify as a frum Jew after reading a typical Cross-Currents post. So full of hate and spite for anyone not exactly like themselves."

Similarly, on a frum discussion board on which I lurk, I often hear incredibly offensive comments made about those who are supposedly less frum, or frum in a different way than what is deemed acceptable. To be fair, it's not that there's usually an overall anti-"less-frum" sentiment from these people. Generally, their view of those outside their community can probably best be described as patronizing pity mixed with a guarded suspicion. The latent hostility usually rises to the fore when an issue catches the public's attention and they feel a need to clearly draw the battle lines, to set the record straight about who the enemy is, and why they are so. It's obvious that on this particular list, because those participants think that they are in a closed, members-only club consisting primarily of like-minded people they feel less inhibited to fully speak their minds, and it's not uncommon for people to really let out the full brunt of their antagonism. (Believe me, it ain't pretty.) Oftentimes their tirade is just senseless ranting, clearly based on nothing more substantive than their emotional biases, and I can't help picturing them as if in some stereotypical caricature - bug-eyed, shouting incoherently, flailing their arms wildly, trying to warn the world of the impending doom. But other times their words are so virulent, so belligerent, that it's truly an upsetting thing to hear.

In countless lectures, seforim, blog posts, dvar torah sheets, op-ed pieces, blog comments, and most of all, in the private discussions heard only by those granted entry to the inner sanctum of the chareidi world, one constantly hears such sentiments: Negativity. Scorn. Derision. Superiority. Condescension. Dismissiveness. It is frequent, it is widespread, and it is very, very deeply rooted.

I said above that my experience in the chareidi world was for the most part positive. But that's all on a very personal and direct level. On a communal level, I had plenty of negative encounters when I lived in that world. Granted, no one actually directly attacked me for being less frum, but that was only because I was smart enough not to show that side of myself to those who would be bothered by it. But throughout those years that I wore the black hat there were plenty of attacks aimed at me - by my peers, by my rabbeim, by my roshei yeshiva, even by my family - they just hadn't yet realized that I was part of those groups they were condemning. And truthfully, I hadn't fully acknowledged it to myself either.

But inside, deep down in a part of my heart that I was afraid to face, I cringed when I heard their mockery. In that dark and lonely corner of my soul, I knew that I was that person they were taunting. That was me. I hated myself for it. I tried my utmost to eradicate that part of me from my self. I denied it for so long. But throughout those years, as I listened to their sarcastic sneering, I gradually understood that they were not just deriding those on the outside. Their barbs were aimed at me.

I was the one that didn't want to learn Torah day and night all my life.
I was the one who wanted to be lax about halacha.
I was the one who wanted to partake of the secular world.
I was the one who took shortcuts when no one was looking.
I was the one who valued this world over the next.
I was the one that wanted to shirk the yoke of God.

I, and so many others.

So, to all you Yated subscribers that think that anything outside of your strict and distorted version of Judaism is such a terrible violation of all that is sacred...

To all you frummies who look condescendingly at those not as committed as you are...

To all you Yaakov Menkins, who think that anything outside your community's practices have no place in Judaism...

To all you Toby Katz's who constantly and consistently attack those who aren't up to your religious standards...

To all you Lakewood Yid's who don't want to ever make any compromises...who want a Judaism that is trapped in some non-existent past...who think that God wants us to live in a restrictive, confined ghetto, idyllically shuckling over our gemaras, obediently following whatever our gedolim tell us to, viewing the world and Judaism through the eyes of a third grader...

Well, I hear you all loud and clear. The message you're conveying is unequivocal: There is no place for me in your world.

Undoubtedly, I expect that you'll immediately deny this, but it's true. Because this is who I am. I cannot be the type of Jew you demand I be. So is there a place in your world for me to be the sort of Jew who I am?

I didn't think so.

Am I Happy?

There is an almost predictable routine that occurs when people first discover that I am not religious. Once the initial shock wears off, and they have reconciled themselves to this new reality (at times arriving at this recognition only after endless debate), they inevitably inquire about my emotional well being. Am I happy?, they want to know.

Although it's quite understandable to me why they are asking me this, the question still irritates me quite a bit. I recognize that their inquiry stems from their assumption that the primary motivation for my abandoning observance was because I was unhappy in my old life, and they want to know if my newfound lifestyle has granted me that elusory state. But the question grates on me terribly. Because I know that when they are asking me that, the subtext of their query is really the following: "Deep down, are you really happy living like this? Of course not! You can't possibly be happy living without the beauty of Yiddishkeit; without shabbos; without Torah; without mitzvos. So you might as well just come back to being frum! After all, if you're not happy like this, why stay here?"

Putting aside for now the faulty assumption that pursuing some elusive emotional state is the root of my shift, and ignoring the condescending belief that a person who isn't frum couldn't possibly be truly happy, what particularly infuriates me about this exchange is the hypocrisy of their position: NOW you think that if I'm unhappy I should leave? What about the countless years when I was unhappy being frum?!! Why didn't you suggest it then that I leave because I was unhappy?! It's a load of crap what you're saying. You don't for one second believe that happiness (or its absence) is a valid basis for choosing a path in life. The only reason you're presenting such a notion is because it suits your purposes. Please! Spare me your bullsh*t concern for my happiness.

However, ignoring their unspoken implications, the question still remains in front of me. Am I happy? Truly, I want to know it as much as - nay, more so than they do. Am I happier living my life the way I am now than when I was frum?

When I examine that question under closer scrutiny, I realize that it seems to be a mostly irrelevant one. Yes, being happy is important to me. But comparing how happy I am now to how I might have felt back then is irrelevant because finding happiness is not the reason that I chose this path. It simply wasn't. True, at times, I admit that I may have actually articulated that it was what I was looking for, that I was just so unhappy in that world, so I had to leave, but actually when we examine the situation closer, it becomes obvious that although I expressed it in those terms, there was so much more going on which was directing me towards a different path.

Although it was something I definitely wanted, finding happiness wasn't the goal of my decision to leave ultra-Orthodoxy. The reason I left was to get away from all the sources of misery that were an integral part of my life as a chareidi person: The restrictive environment, the demanding (and often meaningless) rituals, the endless gemara learning, the lack of opportunities to feel good about myself, the hypocrisy that I was beginning to detect, the insistence that my life be shaped in a way that I didn't feel right for me, the constraints placed on my relationships, the intellectual dishonesty, the persistent religious one-upmanship, the intense insularity, the requirement to believe so many disproved ideas, the questionable leaders, and on and on. Conversely, my departure from the community was also intended to be able to increase the opportunities where I would have positive experiences and encounters in my life.

The point I want to make is that the reason I left was not because I wanted happiness. It was because I wanted more of those positive things in my life, and less of those negative things. Happiness is a logical byproduct of taking such a step, but it wasn't the goal.

(In looking at the larger picture, although that explains some of the reasons why I left, it's important to consider the circumstances that allowed me to leave: It was only when certain societal pressures were removed that the door opened for me to actually step out of that world. And it was only when I came to understand the deficiencies in the intellectual underpinnings and ideologies of ultra-Orthodoxy that I lost the motivation to endure that unhappy way of life I was previously committed to. I hope to explore the nature of this trifecta in greater depth some time soon.)

Getting back to the question that my interlocutor posed to me, "Am I happy?" my answer would be as follows:

"Am I happy? I hope so, although I admit that I can't be sure of it. Happiness is a difficult thing to gauge. However, more importantly to me, is the fact that in my life as I am currently living it, I have much less of those negative experiences and emotions that were a part and parcel of my life in your world. And at the same time, I am able to partake of so many wonderful and enriching opportunities that your lifestyle prevented me from experiencing. Am I happy? I'm not absolutely sure. But I am sure that I'm glad my life is no longer shaped by the dictates of your world."

Survey for Ex-Frummie's

If you're no longer frum and are interested in taking a short survey elaborating on your journey away from religiosity, please email mali_aune_main@yahoo.com and let her know that you'd like to receive the questionnaire. It's for a project about people who have been raised as Orthodox Jews and as adults no longer practice. The project is only meant to explore the experiences of this little known subculture, not to denigrate Judaism or to admonish those who no longer practice.

Update: A blog has been started to get more info on the survey: http://nolongerfrum.blogspot.com

The Torah Response

Since everyone's been chiming in on the latest scandal in the frum community regarding the sexual abuse allegations, I figure I have to say something too, even if only to keep up (and also to clarify being quoted out of context). I have just a few thoughts on the subject, and nothing very innovative.

Firstly, despite my well known feelings of antagonism towards the frum world, I don't for a second think that this problem is something which any normal and decent frum person is not incredibly disturbed by. Any implication that decent frum people, regardless of their affiliation, don't consider such behavior troubling is such a gross distortion of the reality that it's not worth dwelling on. I'd also like to clearly state that I don't recall ever being sexually abused in any manner at any point in my life.

However, despite that acknowledgement, I think that this issue brings to light one more manifestation of the denial and coverup that is so rampant in the frum world. The fact is that there are sexual perverts in the frum community. Whether or not they are more or less common than in general society is uncertain, but I don't see why it really matters for the purpose of this discussion. They exist. But like every other aspect of reality that clashes with their perfect Torah World fantasy, the frum world is (or rather, has been up until recently) in denial about their existence and their effects.

Like spousal abuse. And alcoholism. And drug use. And disaffected youth. Until these problems hit so hard that they can no longer be denied, the frum community continues to react to such disturbing facts by either burying its collective head in the sand, downplaying the severity of the matter, or focusing its efforts on keeping the matter hushed up.

In my opinion, this recent scandal is not and should not be only about the actual abuse that was perpetrated against innocent people. That is a horrific tragedy which can not be minimized and should not be ignored, but there is another problem here, one which is far more prevalent than the aberrant perverts in the frum world.

I don't have any evidence to go on to conclude that abuse of any kind is common in the frum world. I would tend to think that it's quite rare, but I admit that that's probably just a result of my ignorance on the issue. However, aside from my possibly mistaken view about actual abuse, I am very confident that the coverup of such incidents is rife throughout the community. People don't want to hear about it. They deny it. They think it can't be true. They're ashamed about it. And they come up with every excuse in the book not to face the issue. They think it's a Chillul Hashem. They think it's all lies. They think it's lashon hara. They think it's inappropriate to speak of sexual matters. They think it'll ruin the shidduch prospects of their family. Of course, if no one is seriously acknowledging a problem, nothing real is ever going to be done about it. So the problem doesn't go away, and the criminals capitalize on that fact, continuing their atrocities unabated.

The characters in this recent incident have had allegations about them going back decades! I have no doubt that hundreds of students were affected by this person. Certainly, many were shamed into silence, but there were also some who spoke to people about the matter. Either rabbis, family members, therapists, whomever. And yet these people were never removed from their positions of power. How is it possible that so many people's complaints and accusations went unheard? We know how. It's because the frum world would rather bury its head in the sand than acknowledge that their precious Torah communities, their respected Torah rabbis, their prestigious Torah institutions, have such a serious blemish in their midst. Doesn't the Torah say, "U'biarta HaRA Mi'Kirbecha?" Expunge the evil in your midst! Don't cover it up!!!

Gil writes about how he knows of many schools and institutions which are making serious efforts to combat this problem, and I acknowledge that such efforts should be encouraged. But as far as I can tell these efforts are not widely publicized. They are deliberately kept under the radar. And until this attitude of keeping things hush-hush is changed, the problems will not be able to be addressed properly.

As long as the community continues to delude itself into believing that its society is such a wonderful and idyllic place which couldn't ever harbor such despicable monsters, these terrible atrocities will continue to occur, and of course, when inevitably the tragedy they were unwittingly complicit in is brought to light, they will shake their heads in shock and sorrow, asking how such a thing could ever have happened in their holy community.

How indeed?