The Addict in All of Us

This past week, someone with whom I am close celebrated a major milestone event in his life and invited me to attend. Like you, I have been to countless birthday parties, anniversary parties, weddings, and graduations, but this was a meeting unlike anything I had ever previously seen. My friend is an alcoholic and a member of Alcoholics Anonymous. Each year, to celebrate the anniversary of sobriety, members are presented with a medallion at the beginning of an AA meeting that is open to the public, including those who are not alcoholics themselves.

This meeting may have been typical for the dozens of people in attendance, but it was a life-transforming hour for me. There are so many aspects to the meeting that were incredibly inspiring and frankly, our Shul—and Judaism as a whole—could learn a great deal from AA’s success. I am anxious to elaborate on my observations with you in the future, but for now I just want to share one thought.

Attending the meeting were men and women, young and old, people covered in tattoos and piercings, and others in expensive suits. It is hard to imagine a more eclectic and diverse group assembled in one room, and yet, for all their differences, I don’t know that I have ever been in the presence of people who felt so united, so together, and so much like family with one another.

The members of AA are part of a special fraternity, a group united by a common battle and therefore they can relate to one another in ways nobody else in their lives can. The loyalty, kinship and extraordinary displays of support are something truly special.

I listened attentively as the meeting opened with a reading of the 12 steps followed by the 12 promises the program makes to those who steadfastly follow them. Before the powerful sharing portion began, the medallions were awarded to the evening’s celebrants. The first celebrant was a woman who was marking her two-year anniversary of being clean from alcohol. In her remarks she said something that gave me great pause. She noted that being an alcoholic makes her feel like “damaged goods” and in some ways “inferior.” As painful as those feelings are, she described that overcoming her struggles with alcohol and being clean is such a source of blessing that it far overshadows those other negative feelings.

“Damaged goods.” “Inferior.” I was struck by those words and couldn’t help but think that both she and all the others in that room were anything but. If we were honest with ourselves we would recognize that in truth, everyone in the world has a vice, a poor habit, or an addiction. Some are workaholics who never see their families. Others are shopaholics who spend beyond what they have or buy things beyond what they could possibly need. Some struggle with gossip, others are challenged not to gaze at lewd images. Some lead sedentary lives in which they never exercise and others have eating habits that leave much to be desired. Some are quick to anger and others seem to never have learned how to speak nicely. Some drive too quickly and others text while driving. Some procrastinate while others are perfectionists to a fault. Some can’t disconnect from their technology and others can’t live without their reality TV.

While society may label all of these “bad habits,” for some reason we put them in a different category than other addictions like alcohol or drugs, even though they share similar patterns, cravings, and compulsions, and can also have devastating consequences. While alcoholics and drug addicts have programs and support groups, most of the other practices are not only not addressed, we often excuse their behavior at best and encourage it at worst. The workaholic impresses us and we may even be jealous of the shopaholic. We dismiss, or sometimes even glorify the tech junkie as “quirky” or “hip” and actually identify with junk food addict. The procrastinator says they can’t find inspiration unless it is the last minute and the person obsessed with reality TV is just a pop culture enthusiast.

The members of Alcoholics Anonymous have an incredible amount to teach the rest of us, their fellow addicts who can’t live without our vices, what it means to confront a bad habit, to stare down a relentless temptation, and to persevere. Indeed, not only are they not damaged or inferior, those successfully overcoming alcoholism are heroic warriors worthy of both our admiration and emulation. After all, the famous mishna in Avos (Ethics of our Fathers) teaches: Eizehu gibor – Ha’koveish es yitzro. Who is a mighty warrior? One who conquers his or her inclination.

In a few days we will encounter the Day of Judgment and be evaluated for our lifestyles, our habits, and our behaviors. We are running out of time to perform an intervention on ourselves and to finally admit that we have a problem or in some cases, multiple problems. Everyone who shares at an AA meeting begins by saying his or her name following by the courageous admission: “and I am an alcoholic.” What participants say only has credibility and meaning if it begins with an admission and acknowledgement that there is a problem. Similarly, our teshuva process begins with confession, the verbalized, articulated statement: I made a mistake, I have a problem, and I want to correct my ways.

“B’makom she’baalei teshuva omdim, tzadikim gemurim einam yecholim la’amod. In the place that someone who has conquered his or her flaws stands, a purely righteous person is not worthy to stand.” The recovering addict, no matter the addiction, is in fact superior, say our rabbis.

The Gerrer Rebbe once met a young man learning at Ohr Somayach, a yeshiva mostly for Ba’alei Teshuva in Yerushalayim, and asked him where he learned. The young man replied that he learned at Ohr Somayach, but hastened to add, “But I am not a Ba’al Teshuva.” The Rebbe did not hesitate before asking him, “Far vost nisht – and why not?”

Let’s not wait to hit rock bottom to be motivated to change our ways. Let’s take advantage of this special time of year to take honest accountings of our lives and to confront our vices and imperfections the way alcoholics do every single day that they are in recovery. May we indeed be worthy to stand with them and to proudly bear the title of ba’alei teshuva.

Be on the Correct Side of This Issue!

This time of the year, Rabbis everywhere can be heard lecturing and preaching about teshuva, repentance. They are likely invoking the famous formula of the Rambam, Maimonides, who instructs us that authentic, genuine self reflection and introspection are made up of three crucial elements: we must verbally confess the error of our ways, we must be regretful and remorseful for what we did and lastly, we must commit never to behave the mistaken way again.

This year, I believe, Rabbis would be terribly remiss if we didn’t broadly and loudly model and exemplify the formula for teshuva ourselves before we lecture about it. We, the Rabbinic community and the leadership of the Modern Orthodox establishment, are in profound need of collective teshuva. Allow me to explain.

The beginning of the new millennium saw the shocking revelation of widespread sex abuse among Catholic priests and the apparent cover-up by the Church itself. There was a public outcry stemming from the inability to comprehend how those responsible for the safety, well-being and protection of children could themselves be complicit in such devastating behavior.

Sadly, as we have entered the second decade of the millennium, it has become clear that the Jewish community is not immune to such behavior. Though the latest revelations of abuse at Yeshiva University 30 years ago are officially only allegations at this time, it is clear from the anecdotal evidence that has emerged, as well as the direct statements of dozens of victims, that our collective community is in need of a profound and difficult teshuva process.

Abuse has not only allegedly taken place at Yeshiva University and previously under NCSY’s watch, but over the last few years, sex abuse scandals have shocked Orthodox communities all over North America and beyond. Our own Boca Raton community has found itself the focus of much attention of late, not because of allegations of abuse in our community, but because of serious allegations surrounding a Boca resident prior to his relocating here. (I once again invite anyone in our community with questions or seeking clarification regarding this issue to meet with me and I know Rabbi Brander extends the same invitation to community members seeking clarification from him as well)

A common theme in many of the cases is the knowledge among community members that something was suspicious about the person and their behavior long before a newspaper story was published, a scandal broke or an arrest occurred. Yet, the discomfort with the perpetrator felt by community members and leaders alike, rarely led to action.

Who is accountable for the pain, trauma and in some cases irreversible damage done to those who were hurt after the community was already suspicious? Is it previous victims? On average it takes a victim of abuse 20 years to tell anyone, including those closest to him or her. They are not to blame for failing to speak up and any attempt at blaming them is deepening their pain while failing to understand their plight.

Is it parents of those abused? In many cases the abused or their parents desperately don’t want the attention or consequences resulting from being the person or people who “brought the perpetrator down.” They prefer to suffer silently rather than enter the fray. I don’t believe we can judge them or their decision, certainly not if we have never been in their shoes.

What about fellow community members who were aware of the suspicious behavior? What is their accountability? After a perpetrator is identified in the newspapers or by being arrested, you will often hear community members say, “I am not surprised; I had heard that he has an abusive past.” Some even have the audacity to call out community leaders for failing to act when, in fact, the community leader may not have known what these community members knew or as much as they knew, and they are the ones whose silence was inexcusable. It is easy after the fact to boast how much one knew about the perpetrator and their nefarious behavior all along. Doing so, however, reveals in retrospect that the boaster was a passive enabler to the abuse, as he failed to intercede earlier.

I admire and applaud Rabbi Yosef Kanefsky and others who have penned an apology for not having done more to speak up on their classmates’ behalf. Perhaps similar statements by those who “knew” and didn’t want to get involved in other cases would go a long way to alleviate the pain and suffering of victims of abuse, who in addition to the pain suffered from their perpetrator, have felt isolated and abandoned by those who should have done more.

What about Rabbis and community leaders? What is our accountability? As we reflect back on the scandal of silence, a harsh and painful observation emerges. In too many cases, Rabbis were at best alerted to, and at worst directly called upon to intervene to stop perpetrators of abuse. Tragically, not only did too many fail to act to report offenders to the authorities, but in many cases, some Rabbis shielded and even embraced the perpetrators, instead of the victims. Laws of lashon harah (gossip) and judging others favorably were misapplied, often at victims’ expense.

As we reflect back, it is becoming clear that too many Rabbis turned away victims, rather than rushing to embrace them, believe in them and support them. Too many Rabbis justified and excused the behavior of perpetrators maintaining their friendships, rather than protecting their communities. Too many Rabbis, who no longer could tolerate the offender’s presence in their communities, shipped them to other communities in an effort to move on and hope the problem would go away. Most egregiously, they failed to even notify their colleagues of the offenders past so that his new community could vigilantly watch over him. Too many institutional leaders and heads have failed to speak with moral clarity in addressing our collective past, present and future regarding these issues.

The Rambam’s formula begins with verbal confession. It isn’t enough to know in one’s heart that he or she did something wrong. It doesn’t suffice for behavior to be so egregious that an apology need not be verbalized. No, the Rambam says, unless one undergoes the exercise of articulating what went wrong, we cannot assume he or she understands the severity of their misdeeds or the impact it had on others.

Now is the time to articulate our collective failings and where we have been deficient. As the distrust in Rabbis and modern orthodox institutions grows by the day, and the cynicism and skepticism for our mission and messages increases with it, we absolutely cannot afford to be silent and mute.

This week marks the 50th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech in Washington, D.C. Many speeches were given that day, but his is by far the most famous and the most remembered. But there was a Rabbi who spoke that day on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Rabbi Joachim Prinz, president of the American Jewish Council, and a rabbi from Berlin who experienced the wrath of Hitler, warned: “Bigotry and hatred are not the most urgent problems.” He continued, “The most urgent, the most disgraceful, the most tragic problem is silence.” Remembering the rise of Hitler, he added: “A great people, which had created a great civilization, had become a nation of silent onlookers. They remained silent in the face of hate, in the face of brutality, in the face of mass murder. America must not become a nation of silent onlookers.”

We cannot and must not be silent and thereby fail to address what happened, what went wrong, who was involved and how can we prevent it from happening again. If Rabbis are to retain the respect of our congregants and if Jewish institutions and organizations are to retain the trust of the community, rather than be silent onlookers, we must speak loudly and clearly about where we stand on these issues.

We must ensure that our synagogues, schools, camps and campuses be free of abusers, pedophiles and perpetrators. Aside from the continued risk their participation presents, their mere presence can trigger past trauma and pain of victims of abuse who are in the same room. I recognize and empathize that when there is suspicion with no clear proof, it is complicated to know what to do. However, while due process is owed to the alleged offender, a process itself is owed to those who raise the suspicion and to the community in which the accused resides.

The bottom line is this: There is a right side and wrong side to this issue and now is the time to be clear which side we are on. It is difficult, and perhaps even unfair, to evaluate the response thirty years ago to accusations of abuse, with the knowledge and understanding we have now. But, what in my mind is not difficult at all and what is necessary now that we know so much more, is to be on the correct side of these issues today.

When a leading Rabbi in Israel invites a convicted abuser to give a Shiur to his Yeshiva, he is on the wrong side of this issue. When a Yeshiva High School principal who wants the trust of his students and parents maintains a visible relationship, even if understated, with a registered sex offender, he is on the wrong side of this issue. When a major Jewish organization retains a Rabbi who continues to defend a pedophile who pled guilty in court, and continues to defend a letter he wrote stating that the victim who reported the pedophile is a moseir who has no portion in the world to come, it is on the wrong side of this issue.

It pains me that my beloved Yeshiva University is currently embroiled in controversy of its own, so let me be clear. YU and my many Rebbeim there have shaped my identity, my thinking and my Rabbinate. I am YU through and through and believe the world would be a much worse place if YU didn’t exist. The Orthodox Union is a center of great chesed, youth work, outreach and education. I am proud of our Shul’s affiliation with the OU and my personal involvement in their activities and programs.

I turn now to YU and the OU, not to alienate, criticize or condemn. I turn to them as a loyal and loving ally, not as an adversary. I turn to YU and the OU because that is what I have always done and because I, like so many of you, yearn for their leadership at this critical time. I respect and admire Dr. Lamm’s courage in addressing his role in the YU case, but more is desperately needed, and it is needed right now.

History will evaluate how the Modern Orthodox world, its leadership and its institutions reacted to these revelations. I, for one, don’t want to be accused of being a silent onlooker to the pain and plight of victims who were failed by the community and the Rabbis who were entrusted with the sacred duty of protecting them. We owe victims of abuse an apology and a comprehensive plan of how we will make sure that what happened to them never happens again.

To their credit, Yeshiva University has commissioned an investigation and has promised to share the results publicly. I trust them and eagerly await their showing us how to take responsibility, display empathy, and put in place a process to prevent and address these kinds of abuses.

The final stage of the Rambam’s formula for teshuva is a commitment to the future. Here is my pledge to our Boca Raton Synagogue community:

As your Rabbi…

I will always put the safety, security and protection of our children first.

I will take seriously and immediately address any report of abusive behavior or inappropriate conduct.

I will not hesitate or delay to report abusive behavior to the authorities to investigate, while staying cognizant of the fact that a person is not guilty just because they have been accused.

I will be transparent with you regarding what I know and how and why I did or didn’t act, to the greatest extent possible without violating confidentiality.

I will do all that I can to ensure that our campus is off limits to established pedophiles, convicted sex offenders, and abusers.

I will be proactive in communicating with the leadership of other communities should a perpetrator of abuse move from my community to theirs.

I have no doubt that the Orthodox community will overcome this issue and position itself once again as a voice of moral clarity and a principal spokesperson of Torah’s timeless values. We will have to take courageous steps, make difficult decisions and have uncomfortable conversations. But when we do, we will have not only lectured about teshuva, we will have demonstrated it.

What Does God Want From You?

Most people think of themselves as “good” people. In fact, I have often heard from those that are less than scrupulous or meticulous with halacha (Jewish law), “I am not be so careful about observing Shabbos and I may eat dairy out, but to me Judaism is about being a good person and that is what I focus on.” Recently I have been thinking about what we mean by “good” and what exactly it is to be a good person. Who is a good Jew and what is the goodness we strive for?

It is instructive to consider – what does it mean to be a “good American”? Ask the average person and he will tell you being a good American means not cheating on taxes, not disobeying the law and not being generally unpatriotic. The truth is paying taxes and following the law doesn’t make you “good,” it just means you aren’t “bad.”

Let me give you another example: If there is a security guard at the building you work in and every day when you pass him by you say good morning, have you done something good? It seems to me you haven’t done anything particularly righteous or noble, you have simply avoided being rude. Saying good morning doesn’t make you good; it just means you aren’t bad.

The distinction may seem inconsequential and perhaps even just a case of semantics. But I believe it is highly significant. I think we have dumbed down what it means to be good. We have lowered the bar so much that our expectation of being good is actually to just avoid being bad. Don’t cheat, don’t steal, don’t be dishonest, don’t murder, don’t rape, don’t pillage, and you are good. Perhaps it is because not being rude, discourteous, or dishonest has become so unusual in our time that we fail to recognize that being polite and honest doesn’t de facto make one good, it just means you aren’t bad. While such neutral behavior may in fact meet the secular definition of good, the Torah demands so much more of us to be called good.

The entire system and framework of our sacred tradition is designed to mold, shape, and form us into truly good people. In the secular law if you see a lost object you have done nothing wrong if you keep walking. According to Jewish law, however, you are mandated to stop and to seek to find its rightful owner. According to secular law if you see someone struggling for his or her life you are free to close your eyes and pretend you didn’t see anything. According to Jewish law, lo sa’amod al dam rei’eicha, you must intercede to save a life. Secular law is silent on interpersonal relationships while Jewish law legislates visiting the sick, comforting the mourner, and hosting guests as binding obligations, not merely suggestions.

So according to Jewish law, then, saying hello to the security guard instead of walking right by him doesn’t make you a good person. Remembering his name, inquiring about his family, getting him a cup of coffee on your break to Starbucks – that would make you a good person.

Defining goodness accurately is important so that we can set an appropriate bar and expectation and strive to achieve what being good really means. Rotating Shabbos meals with my friends doesn’t necessarily make me good. Hosting someone I don’t know well but who needs a meal, or inviting a stranger I met in Shul or calling the Chesed committee and asking who could use an invite? That would make me truly good.

We should not and must not be satisfied with not being bad. A life of true Torah observance is supposed to yield a life of goodness, kindness, sensitivity, empathy, charity, generosity, honesty, integrity and most of all Godliness. As I have shared before, the question that plagues me is with all the Torah learning, all the observance and at times even all of the stringencies, are we achieving the goodness which is the purpose of it all?

If we could develop an experiment made up of five or ten tests for goodness such as leaving a wallet and seeing if it is returned, how would our communities score? How would we compare to other denominations of Judaism that don’t embrace the same adherence to Torah and halacha, or to those that follow halacha rigorously and super-stringently? If the proverbial plate were passed around our Shuls, would we have the same percentage participation as the Church down the road?

Don’t get me wrong. I am well aware of the incredible, substantive “good” going on in the Orthodox community today. Networks of chesed, tzedaka, bikur cholim, Tomchei Shabbos, Shomrim, Misaskim and Hatzalah are just a few examples of coordinated, elaborate efforts of goodness. However, with all of that, I am not entirely confident how we would score on the hypothetical experiment I mentioned before. Nor am I confident in how we would compare to other religious groups and demographics on such a test. That lack of confidence in itself is deeply troubling and disturbing.

So what is it to be good? Our prophet Micha (6:8) asked just that a few weeks ago in the Haftorah of Parshas Balak: “He has told you, O man,what is good, and what Hashem seeks from you? Only the performance of justice, the love of kindness and walking humbly and modestly with your God.”

It is time for the Torah community to evaluate – are we fulfilling what Hashem seeks from us? Are we meeting the standard of goodness that He has set for us? Are we pursuing justice, performing kindness and living humbly? If we are not, if we are coming up short, shouldn’t we consider why?

Kashrus is supposed to give us greater self-control and discipline. Are we more disciplined as a result of observing it? Shabbos is designed to help us disconnect from technology and work and connect to our family and Hashem. Are we more connected in meaningful ways after we keep Shabbos? Davening to Hashem for our daily needs should make us humble. Are we humble each time we leave davening? Watching our words and being selective in what we look at are supposed to make us holy. Are we in fact leading holy lives?

Perhaps we need to reevaluate our educational emphasis or maybe Rabbis need to rethink the focus of our sermons, classes, programs, scholars in residence and seminars. Perhaps we need to make volunteering in some capacity a mandatory requirement of membership in a Torah community. Maybe pursuing justice should be a standard part of the agenda of Shul Board meetings.

I don’t have all the answers and this is most certainly not the space to try to develop the thoughts that I do have. What I know is that if we want greater Shabbos observance, Kashrus adherence and halachic commitment from our children, demonstrating how an observant life leads to a life of goodness will likely be much more productive than enforcing stricter rules and more biting punishments.

My friends, as we gave begun the month of Elul, let’s not be satisfied with simply not being bad. Let’s spend this month trying to truly be good by pursuing justice, performing acts of kindness, and improving our modesty and humility.

Sharing the Burden

The emotionally charged expression “Sharing the Burden” has been bandied about of late, but has a variety of meanings depending on the setting in which it is used. In the context of the Jewish Day School tuition crisis conversation, sharing the burden means helping families find relief from the debilitating levels of tuition. During the last presidential election season, sharing the burden was code for raising taxes. Coming back from my recent visit to Israel I can confidently tell you that there is no place on earth and perhaps no time in history in which the attitudes towards “sharing the burden” have created such a massive divide and monumental challenge as in Israel today.

An exemption from serving in Israel’s army, intended for a modest number of full-time Yeshiva students, is today being utilized by over 60,000 men who are eligible but not serving. As the number of exemptions grows, the broader Israeli society has reached their limit and is vociferously calling on their Chareidi brothers to start sharing the burden.

During my short stay in Israel, I saw first-hand the seemingly insoluble divide and vast chasm between the secular and national religious on the one hand, and the Chareidim who don’t serve on the other. The secular and national religious simply cannot fathom how a population could feel entitled to benefit from the protection of those who risk their lives for them and not participate in providing that protection for others in any tangible manner. The Chareidim, however, cannot fathom how they can be asked to abandon the Beis Midrash and neglect the Torah that needs to be studied. Moreover, they cannot comprehend how they can be forced to serve in an army that they believe is designed to purge them of their religious identity, convictions, observances, and lifestyle.

My personal feeling is that the default must be participation in Israel’s army. Appropriate concessions should be made to honor opportunities for full-time Torah study before serving, but service should be a given. Additionally, units should be developed that will meet the sensitivities and requirements of the Charedi population. However,, I believe the burden is on the Charedi community to provide a long-term, sustainable proposal that will include Yeshiva students participating in at least some form of national service.

While in Israel, as I read the newspaper, listened to the radio, and had conversations with people on both sides of this issue, it dawned on me that there is another population that is not fairly sharing the burden, yet they are not being addressed. A fundamental principle of religious Zionism is that Israel is not simply a secular state for Jews, but it is a Jewish state. We believe that the return of Jewish sovereignty to Israel represents a seismic step in the process of redemption and major progress towards the Messianic era.

Israel is not the Israeli homeland; it is the Jewish homeland. The law of return states that all Jews have the right to return to, to live in, and to be a citizen of Israel. Most remarkably, Israel feels a responsibility not only to its citizens and residents, but has exhibited extraordinary steps to help protect and rescue Jews everywhere including Ethiopia, the former Soviet Union, and Argentina. Do we doubt for a moment that if, God forbid, a Jewish community were in danger or at risk anywhere in the world, Israel would step up and do whatever necessary to protect them or us?

Israel belongs to all Jews, not only all Israelis, and all Jews, not only all Israelis, must share the burden of protecting her. The question, then, is what are diaspora Jews doing to share the burden? I am not naïve or foolish. I understand that there are different rights and different obligations for those who live in the land and are legal citizens of it than for those who live outside. Our share in the rights is not as great: we cannot vote, for example. And our share in the burden is obviously not as great, as we in the diaspora are not conscripted into the IDF. However, what is not debatable or deniable, it seems to me, is that we have at least some share of the burden.

The obligation of Jews outside of Israel to share the burden of protecting her is not only a philosophical or ideological statement, it is a halachic one. The Talmud tells us that in the circumstances of milchemes mitzvah, a mandated war, all must participate, even a bride and groom who were standing under their chupa. The Rambam defines a milchemes mitzvah as “war against the Seven Nations, war against Amalek, and assisting Israel in defending herself from the enemy who descends upon them.” (Hilchos Melachim 5:1) His last definition certainly seems like an apt description of Israel’s condition today. The halacha doesn’t differentiate between those that live in Israel or outside her boundaries. Rather, in the circumstance of defending Israel from her enemies, halacha demands that all Jews, wherever they may live, must share the burden and participate in protecting the people. Technically, we should all be drafted into service, no matter where we may live.

And so, while in Israel they debate the question of Yeshiva students exemptions from army service, I propose that we in the diaspora ask ourselves how can we do more towards fulfilling our share of the burden?

The first and foremost suggestion is to consider aliyah. There are legitimate and valid reasons not to make aliyah right now. But, there are no excuses not to consider, struggle with, and plan for a time that we can move to Israel, the Jewish homeland and be part of the Jewish destiny.

Secondly, though we lack a legal obligation to serve in the IDF, we don’t lack a moral obligation to support the members of the IDF in every possible way that we can. I am regularly contacted by young people serving in the IDF whose units have needs that cannot be met by the Army itself. Partaking in a small share of the burden means generously supporting organizations like Friends of the IDF (www.fidf.org) and Sgt. Benjamin Anthony’s Our Soldiers Speak (www.oursoldiersspeak.org). Additionally, while we don’t protect soldiers in the field, we can seek to protect them with our heartfelt prayers by always thinking of them, each and every time we pray.

Thirdly, sharing the burden means advocating for Israel and seeking to influence America’s policy towards Israel on a regular basis and in meaningful ways. Minimally, being a member of AIPAC, (www.aipac.org) and hopefully being active and involved, positions AIPAC to successfully lobby on behalf of Israel’s interests and to be the strongest voice influencing the policies of the US-Israel relationship in the world.

There are countless other ways we can share the burden even from the diaspora, such as by investing in Israel through Israel Bonds (www.Israelbonds.org), supporting organizations that care for IDF veterans (www.zdvo.org), and much more.

Israel has some very difficult and undoubtedly painful work to do to heal the divide and find a solution that will bring the country together on the issue of mandatory army service. While they struggle to figure it out, let us neither forget nor neglect our obligation to share the burden and let us pledge to do more for Israel this year than ever before.

What is the Most Important Discussion the Orthodox Community Should be Having?

Recently, a self-described Orthodox Rabbi wrote what has become a highly controversial article challenging the authorship of the Torah. His radical approach, which shares more in common with the conclusions of academic Biblical criticism than with traditional Rabbinic Judaism, garnered a harsh reaction and prompted a firestorm of articles, posts, and blog entries. Many immediately declared his views heresy and called into question his status as orthodox.

Even the Yeshiva from which he received Rabbinic ordination felt obligated to pen a statement. Its president wrote, “Rav Z. is thinking honestly and personally, but his ideas are different from, and in some ways contradictory to, what we teach and ask our students to believe… His beliefs on this matter are his own and far from the broad classical views of Torah Min Hashamayim that we at the Yeshiva believe in.”

I reference this article not because I want to discuss its contents, merits, or appropriateness. In fact, though an analysis of the article is important and a discussion of the limits and boundaries of orthodoxy are critical, I don’t want to talk about the article at all. It is the volume and intensity of the reaction to the article that I believe deserve to be addressed.

One prolific blogger, who has a propensity for providing his views on a topic before the proverbial ink has even dried, introduced his analysis of this particular piece by stating, “The most important discussion in orthodox Judaism right now is the pair of articles written by R’ Z…” To be honest, I didn’t read one more word of his blog entry because I was so startled by his opening sentence. Really? This is the most important discussion in Orthodox Judaism right now? Aside from the practical question of how many Orthodox Jews even know of the article or for that matter have heard of its author, how could it possibly be, I thought to myself, that this is the most important discussion in Orthodox Judaism?

To be clear, I am not minimizing a discussion of the authorship of the Torah and I understand that our religion comes with theological principles, boundaries, and challenges. In contemporary times, with children and adults having easy access to the compelling – at times, even seductive – arguments of Biblical criticism, we must introduce courses on our beliefs to the Jewish Day School and Adult Education curriculums. My question is not with the importance of the conversation; it is with the disproportionate assessment, in my opinion, of how important this discussion is in Orthodox Judaism right now.

In “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People,” Stephen Covey made famous the time management matrix that contains four quadrants – Urgent/Important, Urgent/Not Important, Not Urgent/Important and Not Urgent/Not Important. He argues that we spend way too much time on that which presents itself as urgent even if it is unimportant, but neglect and fail to address the non-urgent, yet very important work that will truly yield the greatest productivity and success.

It seems to me that Covey’s prescription for time management is highly appropriate and profoundly needed for the agenda-setting of the Jewish community. We seem to react to everything that presents itself as urgent even when it is not, in the greater scale of things, critically important, while we neglect issues that are of critical importance even if they don’t present themselves as urgent. Our attention, resources, and energy get focused on a controversial position taken in an article, or to provide tehillim rallies or funds to those that scream the loudest, take out the most colorful ads in Jewish media or acquire an endorsement from a “Gadol” who likely didn’t fully understand the issue to which he has attached his name.

A few years ago, two Jews were in prison simultaneously. One, an orthodox Jew who admittedly performed a crime and broke the law, received a particularly harsh and punitive sentence. The other, a secular Israeli who was risking his life serving in the IDF, was kidnapped by terrorists and held in unknown conditions. I remember my disbelief as I would receive emails and read full-page ads raising money for and holding tehillim rallies on behalf of the confessed criminal with a harsh sentence, with relative silence on behalf of our soldier who remained in captivity.

Who sets the agenda of the Jewish community? How should we dedicate our resources, energies, talents, time, and focus? How do we prioritize our collective to-do list? It seems to me that our agenda is being set for us by the media, zealots, and what topics attract the most attention on social media. If we are going to make a dent in fixing the problems in the orthodox Jewish community, we cannot simply have a reactive agenda, but we must articulate a proactive one that includes areas that may not seem urgent, but yet are critically important.

One might say authorship of the Torah and Biblical criticism is vitally important as we are losing observant Jews to those beliefs and they are abandoning an observant lifestyle. Surely there are thoughtful Jews grappling with these issues and an articulate and persuasive response by us may keep them in the fold. Yes, communicating the capacity to engage scientific thinking and traditional Judaism without compromise is a worthwhile exercise.

But let’s be honest. How many Jews do you know who stopped keeping Shabbos, began eating non-kosher, or entered a relationship with a non-Jewish woman because they couldn’t reconcile the authorship of Exodus and Deuteronomy? It seems to me many more are walking away because of the issues that we are not discussing broadly. Here is a short list of topics just off the top of my head that seem more “important discussions for the Orthodox community” right now than Biblical criticism:

Torah learning leading to ethical living: Are Orthodox communities measurably more ethical, honest, caring, compassionate, and moral than those that are not guided by Torah and mitzvos? Are they measurably less moral and courteous, and if so, how could that possibly be given that Torah is designed to shape us into better people?

Are Torah and mitzvos relevant to a modern Jew? Why should I observe if observance doesn’t “do anything for me?”

What are we doing to empathize and support victims of abuse who have been failed by the Orthodox community that neglected to protect them? What are our policies and protocols to properly deal with allegations going forward?

How do we reconcile traditional Jewish values with modern, Western philosophy and ideals? Isn’t the Torah’s view on homosexual marriage a violation of civil rights and if not, how?

What are we doing about the growing divorce rate in the Orthodox Jewish community? How can we improve family values and shalom bayis?

What is our relationship with the 90% of Jews who are not orthodox? And do we see value in the non-Jewish world and how are we to relate to it?

What are we doing to stem the tide of assimilation and intermarriage? Do we genuinely respect and care about non-Orthodox Jews and how do we show it?

How can we improve the health and wellness of the Orthodox community given the culture of eating and emphasis on food?

What can we do to be better advocates for Israel and keep the threat of Iran on the forefront of the minds of our elected officials?

The list could go on and on, but we, the organized community, must pause to actually create it, prioritize it, and then pursue it rigorously in order to make meaningful contributions to our future.

I look forward to studying the topic of the authorship of the Torah and a response to Biblical criticism with you later this year. In the meantime, let’s dedicate our focus to finding solutions to the truly most important discussions facing the Orthodox community. I welcome your input and partnership in addressing these questions and in stimulating discussion on these important areas.

Having “The Talk”

When I was a kid, the most difficult and awkward conversation between parents and children was the talk about “the birds and the bees.” Due to the Internet, increasingly graphic pop culture and explicit billboards and ads, today’s children can be considered precocious in this area and likely know a great deal about the topic before “the talk” ever even occurs.

Instead, the most difficult talk today between parents and children is one that is unfortunately not taking place enough. While the world is generally a safe place and the people our children are exposed to are almost always appropriate and safe, sadly the threat of abuse is real. Research has consistently shown that the most important and effective tool to protect our children is education. As loving and trusted parents, we have the capacity to safeguard our children, but it means having a difficult and uncomfortable conversation.

Rabbi Yakov Horowitz, a respected voice on the topic of child safety education (whom we hope to host next year for a Shabbos), identifies four points to communicate to our children in order to be empower them to protect themselves and to transform them into difficult targets for predators.

No secrets from parents – In a non-anxious, calm conversation we must remind our children that we love them beyond words and that they can feel confident confiding in us about absolutely anything. We must make them recognize that we take them seriously, we will honor their concerns and fears, and we will always do everything in our power to serve their best interests.

Your body belongs to you – It is crucial for children to understand the concept of personal space and that our bodies belong to us, and us alone. Our private parts are ours and absolutely nobody, not a friend, family member, or person in any position of authority can have access to them.

Good touch/bad touch – Not every touch is bad and qualifies as abuse. However, there is touch that is categorically wrong and should set off an alarm for our children. They must understand the difference so that they can be aware and respond appropriately.

No one should make you feel uncomfortable – Lastly, we must communicate to our children that no one should make them feel uncomfortable. If they do, they have a right to walk away and tell someone they trust.

Too many parents are avoiding this talk because they think they will introduce their children to a topic that will make them fear adults and worry excessively. However, the experts explain that rather than fear adults, children will feel safer knowing they can trust their parents and they will feel empowered to protect themselves going forward.

Should God forbid issues arise, the best way to respond to our children is to tell them that we believe them and that we will react appropriately. Halacha (Jewish law) is clear that safety concerns must be reported to the appropriate authorities and all mandated reporting laws must be observed. Remaining silent, covering up, or excusing inexcusable behavior leaves other children vulnerable to abuse and trauma that will haunt them their entire lives and do what can be irreparable damage.

There is no easy or pleasant time to have this conversation, but as parents it is irresponsible to delay. As many children prepare to leave to camp this week, it is a perfect time to remind them of the four points above.

May our children remain safe and may Hashem grant us the courage to act appropriately and responsibly in dealing with these issues.

Being the Antidote

In an attempt at humor, a Jewish parody blog ran the following headline this week: “In a rare moment of achdus (unity), Ultra-Orthodox and non-Orthodox Jews rejoiced at the news that a Modern Orthodox group had finally made a chillul Hashem (desecration of God’s name).”

The author was referring to a story that made its way to the homepage of CNN.com as well as countless other news outlets. On Monday, students from a prominent Modern Orthodox High School in New York, on board an airplane awaiting take-off, reportedly refused to stay seated, and continued to use their mobile devices after they were asked to stop. Despite multiple requests by the flight crew and an attempted intervention by the pilot himself, the students allegedly continued their disobedience. Ultimately, 101 students and 8 chaperones were asked to exit the plane and the flight was delayed 45 minutes as a result.

The students and the chaperones deny having engaged in unruly behavior or compromising the safety of other passengers. One chaperone said, “They certainly did not do what the stewardess was claiming they did. That’s what was so bizarre.”

Now, I wasn’t on the plane and obviously didn’t see what occurred, but I think it is safe to say this: It is unlikely the students were sitting obediently, following all of the rules and regulations, and carrying themselves with dignity, class, and refinement. In sports, when a referee or umpire makes a questionable call towards the end of the game, a decision that impacts the very outcome or result, the coach will often be heard saying: “We didn’t lose because of the referee, we should not have put ourselves in the position to be at the mercy and discretion of the ref to begin with.”

While perhaps the flight crew overreacted, it seems to me that the students likely behaved in a questionable fashion, leaving the fate of successful transportation to their class trip in the hands of the discretion and judgment of a flight crew. Even if the decision of the crew was wrong, why should a decision to expel an entire class from a plane ever need to be made? Perhaps the chaperones should be saying: “We didn’t get kicked off the plane because of the flight crew. We should not have been in the position of being at the mercy and discretion of the crew to begin with.”

If you think a group of Modern Orthodox teens have a monopoly on chillul Hashem, you haven’t seen a terribly disturbing and unsettling video making the rounds on social media. Recently, a biker in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, got cut off by an Orthodox minivan driver. His bike-mounted camera was filming the whole time, capturing the driver boxing him in and harassing him before a throng of other Chassidim surround, intimidate and threaten him. The situation was clearly escalating until eventually, a driver stops to help the biker and shields him until he is able to escape and pull away.

Our BRS community is very committed to outreach and to sharing the richness of our heritage and birthright, a Torah lifestyle, with our Jewish brothers and sisters. For a long time, I personally thought the greatest obstacle to this effort is ignorance. The vast majority of non-observant, non-affiliated Jews have little to no experience with Orthodox people. To a large extent, I still believe ignorance is the main hurdle evidenced by the fact that I regularly hear from newcomers to our Shul or community, “Wow, Orthodox Jews are not at all what I thought. They are friendly, kind, welcoming, and most of all, they are normal.”

While ignorance and unfamiliarity are certainly challenges, it is clear to me that perhaps the most formidable obstacle is self-imposed and placed there by ourselves. For every Orthodox Jew, teen or adult, who behaves in a manner that desecrates God’s name, turns people off to Judaism, and leaves them with unkind attitudes towards orthodoxy, we need at least a thousand acts of Kiddush Hashem, Observant Jews performing phenomenal acts of kindness, courtesy, honesty, friendliness, and righteousness.

The real story about the Modern Orthodox high school kids getting thrown off the plane is the fact that for CNN and other secular media it is a story at all, and a headlining one at that. I have to imagine schoolchildren on class trips have run-ins with authority on a regular basis in this country. Yes, being expelled from a plane is extreme, but I think what made the story particularly salacious, and therefore attractive for the media, is the fact that the alleged perpetrators are Orthodox Jews.

The world expects more from us. They believe something that perhaps many of us fail to subscribe to ourselves, or we neglect to remember as often as we should. Torah values and a Torah lifestyle are supposed to improve us, shape and mold us to be better, refine our character, guide our behavior, and impact our very essence. The world expects Torah Jews to be measurably more ethical and moral, more honest in business dealings, easier to work with, having greater integrity, and making decisions with a precisely calibrated moral compass. When instead they find over 100 of us being disobedient on a plane or having an altercation in the street, it becomes newsworthy.

Between ignorance and unfamiliarity, goons and buffoons who create chillul Hashems, and agenda-driven Jewish leaders of other denominations breeding hostility and contempt towards Orthodoxy, we must do more and we must do better.

The antidote and the solution are up to us. Not only do acting with derech eretz and behaving like a mensch never come in conflict with following halacha, Jewish law is all about crafting us into the best mensches and acting with the greatest derech eretz possible.

We need not behave in any extraordinary manner or take radical steps to solve this problem. All we, the observant community, must do is live up to the fair expectation the world and the Torah have set for us – to be faithful, honest, kind, courteous, and ethical. Let’s get to work.

What’s Your Ranking?

A few weeks ago, the Jerusalem Post published its list of the “World’s 50 Most Influential Jews.” This list comes on the heels of the Forward’s list of the top 50 American Jews. Newsweek puts out an annual ranking of the top 50 Rabbis in America. The Forward, too, publishes a list of America’s most inspiring Rabbis.

It has always troubled me: how exactly do they calculate these lists? Can a person’s influence, impact, or inspiration truly be measured? While the lists purport to represent the level of impact, in truth, they are much more reflective of the level of profile, prominence, and notoriety of those who make it onto them.

I was reminded this week multiple times that our true heroes and stars are not necessarily those that have the highest public ranking or profile, or have the most followers on Twitter or friends on Facebook. There are individuals all around us who live extraordinary lives that shape not only their destiny, but also that of so many around them, and yet, they will never appear on a list or be included in a ranking.

On Sunday, I had the privilege of officiating at the funeral of one of the pioneers of our community, Paula Rath. Paula grew up in Sighet, Hungary, one of eleven children, and part of a successful, happy family. Her wonderful life, like those of so many others at the time, was unimaginably interrupted by the plans of evil men carrying out the greatest atrocity in human history. Paula was taken to a ghetto, from there to Auschwitz, and from there to multiple forced labor camps.

Paula survived and went back to her hometown where she was reunited with Yosef, whom she had known before the war. They married, and in an effort to fulfill Yosef’s dream, they boarded an illegal ship named “Geulah” and set sail to Israel. The ship was captured by the British and taken to Cyprus, where Paula and Yosef were forced to remain for a number of years.

After the State of Israel was declared, the gates of immigration were opened. Paula was pregnant at the time so she and Yosef had priority and they finally made it to Israel. They got a room in an abandoned Arab house in Haifa that they shared with two other families. Almost immediately after arriving, Yosef, a survivor himself, was drafted into the newly formed IDF to fight in the War of Independence. Later, Paula and Yosef would have two sons, Yehudah and Amir, who would serve in Israel’s army and risk their lives in multiple wars.

Paula will likely never appear on a list of prominent Jews, but can anybody on the list really compare their lives with hers? She lost her family, yet had the courage to survive and display remarkable faith as she and her husband contributed to the founding and protection of our beloved State of Israel.

Later in the week, unfortunately, I found myself officiating at another funeral. Our beloved member, Lian Sae Bloom, was scheduled to come home on Tuesday. Indeed, all she really wanted was to come back home. Nobody anticipated that she would go back to her true home, returning to her source and to her Creator that very same day.

Lian, like Paula, will likely never appear on a list or in a ranking. But, her life journey was remarkable and the number of people she touched positively along the way was incredible. Lian was all about bringing positive energy into the world, and making a positive impact on those around her.

When Lian saw something that she thought could positively influence her life, she pursued it relentlessly. The story of how she joined our community is just one incredible example. She was close with someone whose husband had passed away and came to BRS for the funeral. When she arrived on a weekday morning and saw the Shul packed with people who had come together as one community to mourn and grieve together, she decided that she needed to be here. She went directly from the funeral to see a house and moved a short time later.

There is a third individual who passed away recently, whose life touched me deeply, though I never met him or knew him. In 2009, Zach Sobiech was diagnosed with osteosarcoma at 14 years old. Since then, during his treatment, he underwent 10 surgeries and 20 rounds of chemotherapy. In May of 2012, Zach’s doctors informed him that he had only up to a year to live. When he realized that he had exhausted treatment options, he decided to just live every single day to it’s fullest. An amazing twenty-minute video called “My Last Days” was done following Zach and his family in his last few weeks of his life. Don’t watch it without a box of tissues handy.

In December, Zach released what would become a viral hit, “Clouds,” a song he wrote about confronting death. In the video he explains, “I only have a few months to live, but I have a lot of work to do. I want everyone to know, you don’t have to find out you’re dying to start living… Death is just another thing on the agenda. Yeah, it’s scary, but the only reason it’s scary is because you don’t know what’s next, or if there is a next. So, it’s kinda like sitting in the dark. And so, you can either choose to be freaking out in the dark… or you can just relax and fall asleep, and just be happy and content with everything.”

There was one thing in particular that Zach said on the video that moved me deeply. Though only a teenager, when asked about his outlook in life, he said something amazingly profound – “It’s just try and make people happy. Maybe you have to learn it over time, maybe you have to learn it the hard way, but as long as you learn it, you’re going to make the world a better place.”

Zach passed away on May 20 of complications from osteosarcoma. He was 17 years old, wasn’t famous, wealthy, or prominent. Yet, the remarkable way he lived his life, coupled with the extraordinary manner with which he confronted his death has impacted millions of people who have now seen the video – “My Last Days.”

Paula, Lian and Zach never lived their lives to make it onto a list or a ranking. But as far as I am concerned they are among the top people who have inspired me to live a more meaningful life. As Zach said, we don’t have to find out we are dying to start living. Let’s live our lives in a way that places us on the lists of those who matter most, our family, friends and community.

Remembering on Memorial Day

For many, Memorial Day is the official start of summer. For others, it is a day for barbeques and picnics. Some look forward eagerly to Memorial Day for the Indy 500 race, the Memorial Golf Tournament, fantastic shopping sales, or a great parade through their town. Many look forward to Memorial Day, but sadly, few know when it started or what it is really all about.

General John Logan officially proclaimed Memorial Day on May 5, 1868. That day, he reflected on those who gave their lives in the tragic conflict of the Civil War. He did so by placing flowers on the graves of both Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery.

In 1861, in response to the election of an anti-slavery Republican as President, 11 southern states that had slaves declared their intent to secede from the United States and form the Confederate States of America. The remaining 25 states supported the federal government and after four years of civil war, the Confederacy surrendered and slavery was outlawed everywhere in the nation.

More Americans died in the Civil War than in any other conflict in US history requiring the establishment of the country’s first national cemeteries. In the late 1860’s, people in towns and cities across the South and the North began a springtime tradition of paying tribute to the countless fallen soldiers and honoring their memories and thus began Memorial day according to most.

And so, Memorial Day is really intended to be about exactly what its name suggests, a day to remember. This weekend we remember the thousands of US soldiers who have given their lives to defend our freedoms and to provide security for this incredible country that has been a better host to the Jewish people than any other country in history. We remember the American Revolution and the values of civil rights, human freedom, dignity and honor.

It is terribly sad, in my opinion, how neglected and distorted Memorial Day has become. The average American associates Memorial Day more with the smell of a delicious barbecue than with those that died defending our country. Just consider the contrast between the observance of our holiday and Memorial Day in Israel, Yom HaZikaron. In Israel, ceremonies are held, public television is focused on soldiers, cemeteries are visited, and the entire country comes together observing a moment of silence while the memorial siren blasts throughout the country.

We are a people that cherish memory and pledge never to forget. We recite Yizkor multiple times a year, we remember Amalek and what they attempted to do to us, we observe Yom Ha’Shoah and remember the horrors of the Holocaust, and we mark Yom Ha’Zikaron and remember the Israeli Soldiers who died on behalf of our beloved Israel. In fact, if you look in the siddur at the conclusion of Shacharis you will note the obligation to remember 6 particular things each and every day.

Indeed, we are a people all about memory. I would suggest that as proud Jewish Americans, Memorial Day be added to our calendar of meaningful observances and that unlike the masses who neglect to pause and remember, we stop to think about those that died to provide the freedom we enjoy. As Jews we acutely feel the loss of the 41 Jewish members of the US Armed Forces killed in action since 9/11 and as patriotic Americans we feel the pain of the over 6,600 families who have buried a loved one killed in action during that time.

May we achieve peace in the world so that war, fallen soldiers, and loss of life only be a part of our distant memory and not a part of our personal experience.

Missionaries in the Neighborhood

Last week, three harmless looking women were walking around Montoya Circle going door to door. They were not selling Girl Scout cookies or vacuum cleaners. Instead, they were on a mission selling their savior to the unsuspecting family member that happened to answer the door for them. These women were Christian missionaries with Bibles in their hands and fallacious arguments flowing from their lips.

This is not the first time missionaries have passed through our community. Earlier this year, many in our community opened their doors to find a copy of the Bible as a gift. Though at least the first half of the book was very familiar and indeed was a translation of our Holy Torah, I instructed those who asked to throw it in the garbage nonetheless. The Shulchan Aruch is clear that a written or printed Bible is only as holy as the individual that wrote or printed it.

One Shabbos morning a few weeks ago, I walked into Shul and was alerted to the presence of an unusual person in the Hashkama minyan. On the surface he appeared like he belonged, as he wore a yarmulka and tallis and held a siddur in his hand. However, once I struck up a conversation with him, it became immediately clear that, in fact, he had ulterior motives. The man began lecturing me on Jesus and what I must believe if I am to have an afterlife. Rather than engage him, I simply asked him to leave and told him he was entirely unwelcome in our Synagogue and community. After taking our tallis and yarlmulka back, I let him know that if I find out he is hanging around our neighborhood, we will do everything in our power to have him removed.

The problem or phenomenon of foreign believers seeking to “convert” us is not new. Indeed, the mishna in Pirkei Avos warns us, “Da ma l’hashiv l’apikorsim, know what to respond to heretics.” We must take this dictum seriously andbe prepared ourselves as well as prepare our children for sophisticated theological discussions that may happen on our doorsteps or in their college dormitories. However, that said, I strongly recommend not engaging missionaries should they come around again. Simply tell them, “I wish you only well, but neither I nor our community are interested in what you are selling. Please leave our community immediately.”

In Judaism, we don’t believe in missionizing or proselytizing. We welcome anyone to join our people if they sincerely accept the responsibility of an observant lifestyle and accept the tenants of our faith. However, as willing as we are to accept converts, we don’t seek them out and don’t recruit or solicit candidates.

However, there is one group that we do passionately seek to share our beliefs, our lifestyle and our heritage with – namely, our fellow Jews. If there is something we can learn from missionaries, it is the enthusiasm and devotion with which they seek to spread something they find so precious and dear. While we don’t proselytize to non-Jews, we absolutely should seek to share the beauty of Torah and the meaning of mitzvos with our fellow Jews.

Unlike missionaries who advance arguments, seek to bring proofs, and aggressively pressure their listener to accept their beliefs, we subscribe to an altogether different approach. As Rabbi Broide reminds us often, “Inspire yourself to inspire others.” Our vision for outreach is not to compel or convince, but to inspire and invite. Our mission is to educate, not to indoctrinate. Our calling is to gently and warmly expose our fellow Jews to a Judaism that is meaningful, purposeful and deeply satisfying.

As we have just concluded the holiday of Shavuos and with it renewed our commitment to the Torah, let’s remember that the greatest love we can show Torah is to share it and spread it to others and not keep it to ourselves.

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