I think that while it’s a matter of regret that Charlie doesn’t believe in God, and it would be desirable to discuss his beliefs with him in detail, his question deserves an answer.

My response (admittedly unprepared and delivered while struggling to hear over blaring music) was simple. I suggested to Charlie that even if he doesn’t believe in God, Judaism can certainly provide him with meaningful ideas, practices, and occasions for inspiration that will enhance his existence ... Read More >>]]> I was at a simchah recently, where I bumped into the father of an old friend, whom I hadn’t seen for many years. Charlie was always known as a forthright person, and it was good to see that the passage of twenty years hasn’t changed anything. He asked me what I consider to be the place of a Jew who doesn’t believe in God. He also told me that he remains a proud member of the community and of the Jewish people (he is, and always was, a staunch member of an Orthodox synagogue), but doesn’t believe in God. Charlie confided that he had asked his own rabbi this question and he had ‘been unable to handle the question’.

I think that while it’s a matter of regret that Charlie doesn’t believe in God, and it would be desirable to discuss his beliefs with him in detail, his question deserves an answer.

My response (admittedly unprepared and delivered while struggling to hear over blaring music) was simple. I suggested to Charlie that even if he doesn’t believe in God, Judaism can certainly provide him with meaningful ideas, practices, and occasions for inspiration that will enhance his existence immeasurably. By continuing his association with the Jewish world, he will benefit from a way to contextualise major life-events, from the support of others and from unparalleled opportunities to enhance the lives of others.

How would you have answered?

The distance between the shtetl and the Far East was measurable not merely in physical miles but in cultural and religious distance no less. Yet when, on September 1, 1923, a powerful earthquake hit Japan’s Kanto plain, laying waste to Tokyo, Yokohama and surrounding cities, killing well over 100,000 people, news of the disaster reached even the Polish town of Radin. That was the home of the “Chofetz Chaim,” Rabbi Yisroel Meir Kagan, the sainted Jewish scholar renowned around the world even then for his scholarship, honesty and modest life.

Informed of the mass deaths in Japan, the 85-year-old rabbinic leader was visibly shaken, immediately undertook to fast and insisted that the news should spur all Jews to repentance.

Yes, Jews to repentance. Jewish religious sources maintain that catastrophes, even when they do not directly affect Jews, are nevertheless messages for them, wake-up calls to change for the better. Insurers call such occurrences “Acts of G-d.” For Jews, the phrase is apt, and every such lamentable event demands a personal response.

It is, to be sure, a very particularist idea, placing Jews at the ... Read More >>]]> To any early 20th century Polish Jew, Japan could as well have been Neptune.

The distance between the shtetl and the Far East was measurable not merely in physical miles but in cultural and religious distance no less. Yet when, on September 1, 1923, a powerful earthquake hit Japan’s Kanto plain, laying waste to Tokyo, Yokohama and surrounding cities, killing well over 100,000 people, news of the disaster reached even the Polish town of Radin. That was the home of the “Chofetz Chaim,” Rabbi Yisroel Meir Kagan, the sainted Jewish scholar renowned around the world even then for his scholarship, honesty and modest life.

Informed of the mass deaths in Japan, the 85-year-old rabbinic leader was visibly shaken, immediately undertook to fast and insisted that the news should spur all Jews to repentance.

Yes, Jews to repentance. Jewish religious sources maintain that catastrophes, even when they do not directly affect Jews, are nevertheless messages for them, wake-up calls to change for the better. Insurers call such occurrences “Acts of G-d.” For Jews, the phrase is apt, and every such lamentable event demands a personal response.

It is, to be sure, a very particularist idea, placing Jews at the center of humankind. But, while Judaism considers all of humanity to possess seeds of holiness, Judaism does in fact cast Jews as a people chosen – to embrace special laws, to be aware of and serve G-d constantly and, amid much else, to perceive Divine messages in humankind’s trials.

Like the Haitian earthquake now feared to have brought about the deaths of twice the number of human beings who perished in the 1923 Japanese quake.

Our government and, prominently, Israel’s, have responded with an outpouring of aid, as have countless individual citizens, including Jewish ones.

From a truly Jewish perspective, though, there is more that we must do in the wake of a disaster as terrible as the recent one in Haiti. We must introspect, and make changes in our behavior.

The 2004 tsunami in Asia occurred during the same period of the Jewish year’s Torah-reading cycle as the recent Haitian disaster, a period known as “Shovavim Tat,” an acrostic of the initials of the weeks’ Torah portions. It is a time considered particularly ripe for repentance. After that cataclysm, a revered contemporary Jewish sage in Israel, Rabbi Aharon Leib Steinman, pointed out that the revered Gaon of Vilna identified a particularly powerful merit at this time of year in “guarding one’s speech” – avoiding the expression of ill will, slander and the like. That, Rabbi Steinman added, is a merit especially urgent “in these days, when the evil inclination puts all its energies into entrapping people in this sin… [when] it is almost impossible to find someone who hasn’t fallen into the ‘mud’.”

No prophet or wise man, only eyes and ears, are necessary to recognize that the Jewish world today is rife with “evil speech” – speaking and writing ill of others (whether the words are true, false or – so often the case – some toxic mixture of the two), and with the hatred that breeds such sins. Jewish media are filled with accusations and “scoops”; they compete gleefully to find the vilest examples of crimes to report, to do the most attention-grabbing job of reporting them, and to be the first to do so.

The very week of the recent catastrophe in Haiti, a national Jewish newspaper published a comic strip featuring grotesque depictions of religious Jews and aimed at disparaging Jewish outreach to other Jews. And another Jewish newspaper ran an editorial placing the alleged ugly sins of an individual at the feet of Jewish rabbinic leaders, simply because the presumed sinner, before he was exposed, had arranged for several respected rabbis to deliver lectures and had encouraged people to make donations to their institutions. Having thus “established” guilt by that association, the editorialist demanded that every Orthodox organization and rabbinic leader publicly condemn the alleged sinner or be smeared themselves with sin. Then he mocked rabbinic authorities as a group for, instead of issuing condemnations of sinners, rendering decisions on social and halachic matters, as if that were not precisely what rabbis are for.

Those are examples of anti- Orthodox invective. But ill will and its expression, tragically, know no communal bounds – in fact, the offensive comic strip seized upon intemperate statements made by Orthodox Jews about others.

Jews can take positions. Indeed we are charged with standing up for Jewish principles. But personalizing disagreements or slandering individuals is – or should be – beyond the pale.

Had we only eyes like the Chofetz Chaim’s, we would discern that hatred and the misuse of the holy power of speech are not small evils. We would understand that they shake the very earth under our feet.

© 2010 AM ECHAD RESOURCES

[Rabbi Shafran is director of public affairs for Agudath Israel of America.]

All Am Echad Resources essays are offered without charge for personal use and sharing, and for publication with permission, provided the above copyright notice is appended.

Something doesn’t smell right about the story.

The problem was certainly not with the Philadelphia PD. They couldn’t know about olfactories, having their hands full coping with all those late-night disturbances at the Philadelphia Yeshiva, one of the most notorious party-schools in the country.

The destination of the plane is cause for suspicion. Louisville is where the Presbyterian Church (USA) is headquartered. PCUSA was the first mainline Protestant denomination to approve divestment of its investment funds from Israel (although later repealed by its membership, which is not hostile to Israel, unlike some of its leadership). Its Israel-Palestine Mission Network routinely posts some of the worst anti-Israel – and, on occasion, anti-Semitic – material ... Read More >>]]> I just watched the YouTube of Chief Inspector Joe Sullivan of the Philadelphia Police Department explain what went wrong on that flight to Louisville Thursday morning. A cabin attendant, not familiar with the Jewish ritual device, became alarmed, etc. The plane was diverted to Philadelphia, where police determined that the device was no threat to safety. It is a black box worn on the forehead, with leather straps leading from it to another box worn on the arm. The device is known as an olfactory.

Something doesn’t smell right about the story.

The problem was certainly not with the Philadelphia PD. They couldn’t know about olfactories, having their hands full coping with all those late-night disturbances at the Philadelphia Yeshiva, one of the most notorious party-schools in the country.

The destination of the plane is cause for suspicion. Louisville is where the Presbyterian Church (USA) is headquartered. PCUSA was the first mainline Protestant denomination to approve divestment of its investment funds from Israel (although later repealed by its membership, which is not hostile to Israel, unlike some of its leadership). Its Israel-Palestine Mission Network routinely posts some of the worst anti-Israel – and, on occasion, anti-Semitic – material on the globe. I betcha they planted the olfactories, just to make Jews look bad. The seventeen year old passenger probably wasn’t even Jewish but evangelical, about the only people they hate more than Jews.

The ones who would seem to have been most culpable are the Homeland Security people. It’s not like they are all sleeping. They certainly have spent time making sure that they are not profiling. It takes great wisdom to put into place procedures to courteously board Muslim extremists flying one way and paying cash, and whose fathers have alerted authorities to the danger.

On the more serious side, it wasn’t the fault of the organized Jewish community. Mark Weitzman of the New York office of the Simon Wiesenthal Center (my employer) had the conversation with an official of Homeland Security three or four years ago. He spoke of the need of a manual about America’s different religious communities, and what they might be bringing on planes at different times of the year. We offered to provide the Jewish content. They were receptive, but there was no follow-up that we are aware of. (On a different occasion, I wrote such a piece for TSA, which has been more than cooperative each year in assuring that frum passengers will not be detonated for carrying their lulavim around Sukkos time.) At this point, Homeland Security will hopefully swing into action, and find a way to share the information with the airlines.

Should the young man have davened on the plane? I’ve fielded the question too many times today. Everyone I know has been sensitive to the problem of frightening passengers who may not be familiar with the arcane habits of traditional Jews. (A yeshiva-days friend recalls the time his father, a butcher, came into his store and found his tefillin torn apart. Suspecting a worker, he told him that he was not interested in punishing the culprit, but finding the missing parshiyos. The worker ‘fessed up. Asked why he did it, the worker told him that it was common knowledge that Jews worship money, which is why they don tefillin each day. Inside those tefillin, of course, was a wad of cash.) We try, whenever possible, to daven in a quiet part of the passenger waiting area before or after the flight. More of us should try to do so. It is not always possible. On some longer flights, the entire time appropriate for shacharis is spent on the plane. And even those who try to leave room enough to daven before a flight can get caught in traffic on the way to the airport or at security. Flights that seem to leave enough time to daven upon arrival often push up their arrival time because of ground delays.

The bottom line is that we should be more circumspect where possible, and try not to daven on planes whose passengers may become upset. If we have to, we should first notify a cabin attendant. We should not, however, assume all the responsibility upon ourselves. There is nothing illegal or inappropriate about quietly praying on one’s seat. (It may be an effective hedge against shoe-bombers and turbulence.) It is the airlines that bear the ultimate responsibility to familiarize its personnel regarding the habits of significant subpopulations of the flying public.

[Thanks to Mara Kochba, LA, for submitting the YouTube URL]

To a large extent, charitable giving in times of catastrophe is related to feelings of commonality. As of this writing, contributions in the US are ahead of those after the Indian Ocean tsunami in 2004, despite the much higher death toll then. Haiti is America’s neighbor, and Americans therefore feel more of a bond.

For frum Jews with scores of needs competing for our tzedakah funds – some of them life-threatening – the issue is more complicated. I have nothing to say to those who could ... Read More >>]]> I was pleased that Agudah very quickly sent out a message pointing people to suitable agencies to which to donate. (I was frankly horrified that they included Oxfam, the virulently anti-Israel NGO. More suitable agencies are not in short supply.) It was understandable that Agudah did not mount a campaign of their own – they do not have a website. The OU does have one, and within a short period of time it had put a donation mechanism in place. Funds collected will go directly to the American Joint Distribution Center, which has already helped defray the cost of the Israeli relief mission. This is where I made my donation.

To a large extent, charitable giving in times of catastrophe is related to feelings of commonality. As of this writing, contributions in the US are ahead of those after the Indian Ocean tsunami in 2004, despite the much higher death toll then. Haiti is America’s neighbor, and Americans therefore feel more of a bond.

For frum Jews with scores of needs competing for our tzedakah funds – some of them life-threatening – the issue is more complicated. I have nothing to say to those who could be completely indifferent to human suffering. ורחמיו על כל מעשיו.
Anyone who is not moved by the pictures of pain and privation cannot be a decent human being, let alone a decent Jew. To paraphrase Shakespeare, “Hath not a Haitian eyes? hath not a Haitian hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as any other person is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die?”

Beyond the necessary heart-felt compassion, I believe that our response will show how well our minds have internalized the notion of Tzlelem Elokim. There are few ties between ourselves and Haitians – despite Haiti’s welcoming Jews fleeing from Hitler, and its voting the right way during the UN partition vote in 1947 that allowed the creation of the Jewish State. We still see Haiti as primitive country, the poorest in the Western hemisphere. We regard it as lawless and chaotic, not a place we would even want to visit. Its culture does not impact upon ours; there are few, if any, shared interests and experiences. If we take Tzelem Elokim seriously, however, we have all the commonality we need to have.

From Haiti there are stories that point to that tzelem. Stories of people in this poorest of places opening the homes that still stand to strangers. People working around the clock with simple implements, and with their bare hands, responding to the cries of strangers, and staving off sleep in order to try to free them from the rubble.

As a group, we throw the concept of Tzelem Elokim around pretty liberally when we want to show off the Jewish contribution to world civilization, or militate against pulling the plug on end-term patients. How we react to what is happening in these crucial days – with our minds as well as our hearts – says a good deal about how much of what we talk about we really believe.

Assume, for the sake of argument, that the account is accurate. (My own practice is to follow R. Elyashiv’s own directive, and assume that nothing quoted in his name is accurate, unless heard directly from him. Even then, I would be skeptical if any background information regarding an issue that was delivered to him by one of his more notorious gatekeepers, who are known to color, filter, and distort.) Was R. Elyashiv dismissive of the possibility that the unfortunate young man from Brazil was possessed by a dybbuk? Did he, like R. Moshe Sternbuch, shlit”a, see mental illness as the cause of the aberrant behavior, rather than a freeloading spirit? Or did he dismiss the dybbuk because he had nothing to say to it, and didn’t particularly relish its company?

The same account claims that R. Elyashiv certainly did not rule out the possibility of a real case of possession. Shlomo Kook, the ... Read More >>]]> While Rabbi Dovid Batzri’s first attempt to drive the dybbuk out was not apparently successful, R. Elyashiv, shtlit”a, reportedly refused to allow it in in the first place, according to the account in Chadrei Chareidim. “Go away from here. I have no business with a dibuk.”

Assume, for the sake of argument, that the account is accurate. (My own practice is to follow R. Elyashiv’s own directive, and assume that nothing quoted in his name is accurate, unless heard directly from him. Even then, I would be skeptical if any background information regarding an issue that was delivered to him by one of his more notorious gatekeepers, who are known to color, filter, and distort.) Was R. Elyashiv dismissive of the possibility that the unfortunate young man from Brazil was possessed by a dybbuk? Did he, like R. Moshe Sternbuch, shlit”a, see mental illness as the cause of the aberrant behavior, rather than a freeloading spirit? Or did he dismiss the dybbuk because he had nothing to say to it, and didn’t particularly relish its company?

The same account claims that R. Elyashiv certainly did not rule out the possibility of a real case of possession. Shlomo Kook, the editor of HaShavua B’Yerushalayim, attended the ill-fated attempt at a videoconferenced exorcism, and reported on its details in his paper. He then looked back at the celebrated predecessor to today’s dybbuk, the infamous dybbuk of Dimona, a bit over a decade ago. Kook reports that R. Elyashiv was asked at the time whether the story should be told to children, since not everyone believed that it was an actual dybbuk they were up against. According to Kook, R. Elyashiv responded:

“Can you say for certain it wasn’t genuine?” adding, “If some are encouraged (receive chizuk) by this, why not tell?”

This is the message this week regarding the dibuk of Brazil “whether we are dealing with a dibuk or not” the chareidi papers reported, quoting Maran R’ Elyashiv, echoing his words from 11 years ago – “if people receive a chizuk from this, why not?”

Many years prior to all of this, R. Simcha Wasserman zt”l spent one of his last Shabbosim in Los Angeles at our yeshiva, prior to his aliyah to Israel. Someone asked him what he knew about the Chofetz Chaim’s dybbuk – the one that R. Simcha’s father, R. Elchonon Wasserman hy”d had watched the Chofetz Chaim dispatch back to Dybbuk Central. R. Elchonon reportedly talked about the event only once a year. Would R. Simcha share the story?

R. Simcha demurred. “Yiddishkeit is difficult enough for many people to accept without burdening them with stories about dybbuks.”

R. Simcha’s was a very different reaction, born perhaps out of his experience with a very different population of Jews. Having lived among Americans, both frum and not frum, R. Simcha knew that while such stories might give some people a boost to their emunah, they could seriously hamper the growth of others.

For the haredi community in Israel, tales of a dybbuk might indeed bring chizuk. When the possessed woman came around eight months later and complained that she was put up to the entire drama by people who wanted to milk it for its propaganda purposes, the purported confession appeared in Ha’aretz. (I say “purported” because I generally pay less attention to Ha’aretz’s treatment of anything religious than I do to a would-be dybbuk. Some of its journalists write as if possessed by multiple demons.) Now, Ha’aretz is not a paper generally read by haredim. Many, many people still believe that ten years ago, R. Batzri conversed with a dybbuk, recorded his voice, and then succeeded in obtaining a summary eviction. To them, both dybbuk stories are sources of chizuk.

To many others, however, both stories are the polar opposite. They are about supposedly discerning people preferring irrationality (or at least meta-rationality) above rational and commonsensical explanations. They create problems and doubts for people who struggle with criticism of their life style by people who see them as superstitious, anti-intellectual, narrow and primitive. They have answers for those people, but those answers are compromised by the behavior of their coreligionists, particularly when a dreaded dybbuk is unmasked as a foolish fraud.

Chizuk is good – as long as there is no strong probability that it will turn into the opposite under scrutiny. In more insular communities, that scrutiny is not very likely, and there is at least room to embrace the chizuk. For those of us in more open societies, every possibility of chizuk has to be weighed against the significant chance that it will be stood on its head. We must be far more prudent, as R. Simcha was.
The real lesson, I believe, is an old one that is often ignored. The needs and realities of the Torah community in Israel are not identical with those here. What is right in Bnei Brak is toxic here. All sorts of questions need to be asked and answered closer to ground zero, because advice appropriate to the tzibur in Israel is not appropriate here.

Realizing this may be the first step in ridding ourselves of our own community’s demons.

It may not be surprising, until you read a bit more in a lovely article in the Wall Street Journal (January 6), and thereby discover that this formula is attributed to Socrates, or perhaps Buddhist tradition. Either way, the authors apparently came up with program for civilizing and uplifting speech civil with very little help from Sura, Pumbedisa, or Neherda’a.

Did they scoop us? Maybe not. There is no question that society would be in a better place if more people would use this tripartite litmus test before speaking (or blogging!). Under closer scrutiny, however, the program turns out to be unworkable. Seen from a Torah perspective, it is not only unworkable, but inaccurate as well!

Lest we be seen as intolerably persnickety, let us give credit where due. The article is a pleasure to read. It is good to hear that many people are aware of the damage done by ... Read More >>]]> Simple instructions often claim “three” as their magic number. Think, “It’s as easy as A,B,C,” or “ready, aim, fire,” or “liberté, égalité, fraternité.” So it shouldn’t be surprising that someone telescoped the rules of justifiable speech into three simple questions: Is it true? Is it kind? Is it necessary?

It may not be surprising, until you read a bit more in a lovely article in the Wall Street Journal (January 6), and thereby discover that this formula is attributed to Socrates, or perhaps Buddhist tradition. Either way, the authors apparently came up with program for civilizing and uplifting speech civil with very little help from Sura, Pumbedisa, or Neherda’a.

Did they scoop us? Maybe not. There is no question that society would be in a better place if more people would use this tripartite litmus test before speaking (or blogging!). Under closer scrutiny, however, the program turns out to be unworkable. Seen from a Torah perspective, it is not only unworkable, but inaccurate as well!

Lest we be seen as intolerably persnickety, let us give credit where due. The article is a pleasure to read. It is good to hear that many people are aware of the damage done by gossip – both to the target and to the gossipmonger. It is a pleasant surprise to learn that some employers are so serious about banning it, that engaging in gossip can be grounds for dismissal; that some are teaching elementary school children to avoid socially damaging speech; that an old Aish HaTorah project (not identified as such in the article) called WordsCanHeal.org, succeeded in attracting the backing and support of an impressive number of major celebrities.

There will always be nay-sayers:

At the same time, gossip is a social interaction. “Is it kind? Is it necessary? Those are good questions,” says Dr. [Susan] Hafen [a professor of communication at Weber State University in Ogden, Utah]. “But it would be a boring world if we always had to tiptoe around, being kind. For one thing, we wouldn’t be able to tell any jokes.”

More seriously, she says, prohibiting gossip that isn’t “kind” may be a way of “avoiding unpleasantness, of fence-sitting, of not rocking the boat. If we only tell kind stories about people, then we may be avoiding holding people responsible for their actions.”

The second point is certainly valid, and from a Jewish perspective, even understated. If speech must always be kind, all kinds of evil will never be exposed, and therefore never resisted. Beyond manifestly evil behavior, much other information is seen by Jewish law as necessary to be shared, and therefore permissible even when unkind. The heter of “le-to’eles” is well-established and well-known.

In halacha, one of the three prongs of the test is inaccurate, and the other two are interdependent. The truth of the report is largely irrelevant. The laws of lashon hora apply even if the information is entirely true. (If it isn’t, further prohibitions kick in.) Kindness and necessity do a dance around each other. Any speech that is derogatory (i.e. unkind) is prohibited – unless it happens to be necessary, in which case it often isn’t! Not unexpectedly, many conditions must be met before justifying the unkind speech, and for them we need to immerse ourselves in halachic texts.

Perhaps we catch a glimpse here of another dimension of a familiar aphorism of Chazal: יש חכמה בגוים תאמן… יש תורה בגוים אל תאמן
The non-Jewish formulation shows chochmah/wisdom. It provides much to think about, and much to emulate. It can inspire, but not quite offer direction in every situation. Those who seek such guidance are looking for a legal system, not sermonics, however compelling. Torah is a legal system, going beyond general advice to a reliable yardstick in all circumstances. The non-Jewish world produces much chochmah – but not Torah. For a self-contained, systematic legal approach, we need more than human wisdom. Looking for it, it will be best to bypass Socrates, and run straight to Sefer Chofetz Chaim.

[Thanks to Rabbi Ephraim Buchwald of NJOP for providing the link.]

When a good friend of mine excitedly told me about a successful presentation to a non-Orthodox audience, I asked him to send me the transcript. Rabbi Meyer May is the Executive Director of the Simon Wiesenthal Center (SWC) in Los Angeles, where I work. He was asked to speak in Dublin at an event over the New Year’s weekend co-sponsored by iACT (SWC’s campus outreach wing) and the European Center for Jewish Students. The students from Liverpool, Manchester, Leeds, London, Dublin, Marseilles, Lyon, Paris, Antwerp, Brussels, Amsterdam, Russia, the Ukraine, Brazil, Berlin, Dusseldorf, Sweden and Gibraltar. The speech was met with ... Read More >>]]> Dovid HaMelech prided himself in speaking enthusiastically and unabashedly to foreign royalty about Hashem’s Torah (Tehilim 119:46). Too many of us react, “Gee, if I were in that position, what would I say? Why would they be interested?” We have lots to say, but we haven’t always thought carefully enough about what parts of the Torah’s message are most accessible and stimulating to others. Because of our reluctance to intelligently showcase Torah (and increasingly, the sorry state of our communications skills), we lose opportunities to influence our friends and neighbors, whether of royal lineage or not.

When a good friend of mine excitedly told me about a successful presentation to a non-Orthodox audience, I asked him to send me the transcript. Rabbi Meyer May is the Executive Director of the Simon Wiesenthal Center (SWC) in Los Angeles, where I work. He was asked to speak in Dublin at an event over the New Year’s weekend co-sponsored by iACT (SWC’s campus outreach wing) and the European Center for Jewish Students. The students from Liverpool, Manchester, Leeds, London, Dublin, Marseilles, Lyon, Paris, Antwerp, Brussels, Amsterdam, Russia, the Ukraine, Brazil, Berlin, Dusseldorf, Sweden and Gibraltar. The speech was met with rousing and sustained applause, and led to much further interaction with the students.

Most of the ideas will not be new to our readers, but I present it for its elegant balance, as a model of how to reach across the divide. It combines the right amounts of history, contemporary name-dropping, inspirational material – and divrei Torah that are not watered down. (Humor, too, but I deleted the joke, since you’ve all heard it .)

We should be doing more of this kind of thing.

Just a little over two years ago, I was one of the leaders of a Simon Wiesenthal Center delegation that was given a private audience with Pope Benedict at the Vatican. At that meeting, we discussed with the Pope the ironies of history. “Can you believe”, we said, “that 65 years ago, the world was preoccupied with the threat of Communism and a doctrine that denied the existence of G-d? And now it is religious fanatics who have sought to bring civilization to a terrified halt”?

We also spoke about the grand mystery of Jewish survival. How is it that his “elder brothers” managed to persevere throughout the generations and the attempts at extermination? No one people, it seems, is more experienced with dealing with existential threats than we, the Jewish People.

Despite a millennium of persecution, the Jewish People has proven itself resilient beyond reason, surviving against all odds and against all enemies. Great empires have come and gone, but miraculously, our small and numerically insignificant nation has demonstrated time and time again that it is invincible – both physically and spiritually! Consider the Jews in the Kovno Ghetto whom the Nazis forced to sing as they were marched to their extermination. One Jew began singing a tune, “Mir velen zey iberlebin” (We shall outlive them) with the others soon joining in.

How, indeed, is it that we have managed to outlive the murderers of mankind and those whose hatred for us has known no bounds? What is the key, the secret, if you will, to our survival? Might it be that G-d has endowed us with extra special gifts — with the brains, values and talent — to survive as His Eternal People!

Isn’t this what King David meant, as explained Rabbi Avrohom Chaim Feuer, when he wrote in his Psalm, “Ki yitzpanani b’suko”? That, “Often when I am in danger, a shelter seems to appear as if by chance. I am not misled. I know that G-d, Himself, has provided this salvation and that it is His shelter”.

You see, King David is revealing to us that often, and most often unbeknownst to us, G-d will provide the emergency skills or just the plain good fortune we need to protect and preserve us. Often, these gifts appear disproportionately, as if purposefully planted within our Jewish National DNA to assure our survival, all without leaving discernible, Divine fingerprints.

Essentially, G-d has our backs. He has endowed us with all the capacities we need to outlast the powerful who have tried a hundred times to wipe us out. And we, Jews, are not the only ones who know it! Honest non-Jews have drawn their own similar conclusions.

George Gilder, an important writer whose essays are always worth reading, wrote that Jews form, “The vanguard of human achievement…. At the heart of anti-Semitism is resentment of Jewish achievement…. Jews attract extraordinary hostility because they have succeeded in extraordinary measure.”

As evidence he writes that in the first half of the 20th century, Jews won 14 per cent of the Noble Prizes awarded in Literature, chemistry, physics and medicine. In the second half of the 20th century, the percentage rose to 29 per cent. Thus far in the 21st century, the percentage has risen to 32 per cent.

And read, too, other flattering perceptions of Jews by other renowned Gentiles:

Winston Churchill said, “Some people like the Jews, and some do not. But no thoughtful man can deny the fact that they are, beyond any question, the most formidable and the most remarkable race which has appeared in the world.”

Irish Author, Thomas Cahill wrote, “The Jew gave us the Outside and the Inside – our outlook and our inner life. We can hardly get up in the morning or cross the street without being Jewish. We dream Jewish dreams and hope Jewish hopes. Most of our best words, in fact, new, adventure, surprise, unique, individual, person, vocation, time, history, future, freedom, progress, spirit, faith, hope, and justice – are the gifts of the Jews.

And lastly, Matthew Arnold, the noted British poet and critic wrote, “As long as the world lasts, all who want to make progress in righteousness will come to Israel for inspiration as they are the people who had the sense for righteousness most glowing and strongest”

Yes, we Jews have been endowed with so many gifts and so many talents – even a great sense of humor. Sometimes we are even too smart for our own selves and outsmart ourselves! Sometimes we are even our own worst enemies! But if we are honest, we must acknowledge that we have been gifted — and we have quite the book of business in world affairs, in the arts and sciences, finance and technology — to show for it!

But we have also been bestowed with some indispensible spiritual gifts that are worthy of mentioning and remembering. Some of these thoughts are reflected in talks I heard from my own Rabbi Yaakov Krause in Los Angeles at the Young Israel of Hancock Park.
When Jews mark our traditional New Year, we celebrate a series of Holy Days ranging from the profound solemnity of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur to the joyous days of Succoth and Simchat Torah — the rejoicing of the conclusion of the annual cycle of Torah readings and the beginning of the new Torah cycle.

The very last word of the Torah in Deuteronomy is “Yisroel” (the Jewish People). The Torah’s very first word in Genesis is “Beraishis” (In the beginning). Apparently, there is an indispensible and meaningful connection between the Jewish People and the concept of beginnings.

The Torah, which is replete with Mitzvoth, actually 613 of them, might have begun in the book of Exodus (the second of the Five Books of Moses) where the very first Mitzvah, the monthly Mitzvah of “Kiddush Ha”Chodesh” (Blessing the New Moon), resides. After all, the raison d’être of the Mitzvoth is to help us formulate a wholesome religious life. Why delay introducing us to these Mitzvoth for all of the Book of Genesis and more, with ‘story time’ about Creation and the Patriarchs and Matriarchs and start with Beraishis, “In the Beginning”? Why, indeed, did The Torah not begin with the first Mitzvah in the Book of Exodus?
Allow me to suggest that the Author knew full well what He was doing! The Torah must start with Beraishis because we read the Torah immediately after we reference the Jewish People at the Torah’s conclusion. Because it is “rejuvenation” that is our mark as a People.

The secret of our survival is our extraordinary capacity for renewal! We survive because no matter how devastating the attack on our existence, no matter how many of us they get, they will never get us all! Those that remain live and grow excel and rejuvenate. Time and time again throughout the millennia, this has been our hallmark. Even the devastation of the Holocaust did not spell the end of us.
Perhaps, too, this is the reason why the first Mitzvah is the blessing over the New Moon. Nothing bespeaks renewal in it essence more than the moon itself whose cycles we mortals observe each month as it grows and wanes and then is reborn the next month to renew its continuous cycle all over again.

This lesson was not lost on the inmates of Auschwitz, who would do anything to light Shabbat candles or light a Chanukah Menorah. But the Nazis would have nothing of this and every effort to observe some meaningful tradition was thwarted on pain of death. However, the inmates of terror were not to be denied. Each month they came out of their barracks to gaze at the New Moon and utter their silent prayer at its rebirth. “The Nazis can take away our candles and even our Tefillin, but they cannot take away our moon!”
And it’s this symbolism of renewal, which is the secret to our national immortality. We say to our tormentors, “You can visit upon us the very worst that human cruelty can design, but like the moon, we will be reborn and climb to the very heights of society”.
Maybe that was why we were so shocked when our Simon Wiesenthal Center delegation met the French President, Jacques Chirac, in the Élysée Palace during the height of the intifada and the devastating spate of murderous terrorist attacks in Israel. During our discussion about the Middle East, amazingly all he could think of saying, in response to the hideous headlines, was that we must recognize the humiliation of the Palestinians.

He went on to describe a conversation he had on the election trail with a young Palestinian college student. The student told him that he was leaving his French university so that he could return to the Middle East to kill Jews.

“Why do you want to kill Jews?” the President asked. “Did you lose your parents to an Israeli bullet?” “No!” said the young man. “I lost no one! I just want to kill Jews because they are humiliating my fellow Palestinians!”

We keep on reading in the media about how frustrated Palestinians are, about how their backs are to the wall. And we cannot justify any humiliation of them. But, for thousands of years Jews were the targets of oppression, Pogroms, Crusades, Inquisitions and the Holocaust. But no matter what, we always pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps and rebuilt our lives and communities. We never taught our children to murder students in schools, bomb innocent people in restaurants and on buses, nor have we had the chutzpah to assure them that these acts are their entry tickets into Paradise. Not even after the horrors and obscenity of the Holocaust could render its survivors’ into suicide bombers.

Instead, to the numerous apostles of inhumanity and their supporters throughout history, we have always said, “You have callously plucked the finest fruits from our tree of life. But you should know that our tree will never die. It will always replenish itself with generations of young men and women who will carry on the faith because they embrace the secret of “Beraishis”! The Jewish people and the State of Israel live on and thrive. “Mir velen zey alla iberlebin” (We shall outlive them all). Because the capacity for new beginnings has become our mantra and new beginnings is what define and empower us!

But there is also one other element – our national capacity to sacrifice to preserve our values. We just finished celebrating Chanukah and know that there are two possible locations to set the Menorah before lighting. One is the obvious, in front of a window so that all who pass by in the street can see the “Chanukia” in all its glory and in all our pride.

But for those living high above the street, where passerby would not take note of it, an alternate placement is suggested – right opposite the Mezuzah near the doorpost. What is the significance of that location?

The Mezuzah on the doorway of every Jewish home represents the ever-present link to our tradition and to our common destiny. It is permanent because we are ever cognizant of our faith and enduring commitments as Jews.

The Menorah, on the other hand, reflects another capacity – the Chanukah capacity. This capacity, fully inherent in the Chanukah story — where many were given to the few, the strong were vanquished by the weak and people of faith conquered the ungodly – speak to the Jewish capacity to make sacrifices for our survival. We will not be destroyed and we will never surrender our values no matter the intimidation and no matter the price to be paid.

As such, when only Israel is demonized on worldwide campuses and in the United Nations (yes, that same United Nations, which stood dark and idly by while thousands of rockets were rained down on Sederot), and North Korea, Iran, Sudan and Somalia get an easy pass, remember that we have and always will out live them.

And anytime you run into an assimilating or disaffected young Jew or Jewess remind them that they are the newest and finest fruits from our tree of life. Tell them that they have it in their hands and in their hearts to sacrifice to insure that our ancient and enduring tree will never die. They have it in their DNA to insure that our tree will always replenish itself with new generations of young men and women who despite everything will show a reverence for life over death and for the respect for human dignity over intolerance and hatred. They can show that by holding on for dear life to the heritage, beliefs and faith that their predecessors sacrificed so much to preserve. They can do that by rejuvenating — starting yet another chapter, their own new chapter, in our enduring national story.

Of course, everyone appreciates that we are in a common boat with respect to security. An Iranian nuclear attack would not distinguish between religious and non-religious. When a decree of destruction. comes to the world, it sweeps before it the tzaddik and ordinary person alike. But common interests are by no means limited to matters of security. The perennial problem of Israel’s lack of drinking water is another example of a crisis affecting one and all.

Israel’s poor transportation infrastructure is yet another example of a problem affecting religious and non-religious alike. One of the great challenges facing the Torah world today is ... Read More >>]]> There is a tendency in the Israeli Torah community to view the world as a zero-sum game, in which that which benefits the secular population is at our expense and vice versa. An intelligent friend of mine once argued with a straight face that the chareidi community is overtaxed because the funding we receive for education constitutes a lesser percentage of national budget than our share of the population. When I explained to him that we also use the roads, are protected by the IDF, and drink the water, he reacted as if he had never thought of that.

Of course, everyone appreciates that we are in a common boat with respect to security. An Iranian nuclear attack would not distinguish between religious and non-religious. When a decree of destruction. comes to the world, it sweeps before it the tzaddik and ordinary person alike. But common interests are by no means limited to matters of security. The perennial problem of Israel’s lack of drinking water is another example of a crisis affecting one and all.

Israel’s poor transportation infrastructure is yet another example of a problem affecting religious and non-religious alike. One of the great challenges facing the Torah world today is the lack of housing. A one-bedroom apartment in an old, slum neighborhood in Jerusalem runs over $100,000, and in neighborhoods that were considered a “buy” just a few years ago, two to three bedroom apartments, usually in need of renovation, cost close to $200,000. Such prices are far beyond the means of large families struggling to cover just their day to day expenses. In the meantime, there is almost no building in satellite communities relatively close to Jerusalem or Bnei Brak – Beitar, Elad, Kiryat Sefer. As a consequence, thousands of young couples find themselves living in tiny, windowless apartments reminiscent of the cages used to study the impact of overcrowding on laboratory mice.

In the long-run, there is no alternative but to develop communities on what are now considered the periphery. The ability of such communities to attract residents will depend to a large extent on their accessibility to the center of the country. Without Highway 6, for instance, it is doubtful that planning for a new community in Harish would have proceeded as far as it has. Fast trains linking Beersheba to the center of the country would go a long way to encouraging young families to move to the South. And similarly rapid transit to Haifa would greatly increase the attraction of numerous Northern communities.. An expansion of the periphery would, in turn, lower demand in the center of the country and bring down real estate prices.

Improvements in mass transportation and alleviation of congestion are no less crucial for the general population. Rapid access to the country’s commercial center would make communities on the periphery far more viable economically and more attractive residentially. And infrastructure investments in more highways and faster mass transit would contribute to increased productivity. Every hour a truck driver spends stuck in traffic is a wasted hour and contributes to economic inefficiency.

Chareidi employment is another area in which there is an intersection between the interests of the broader Israeli society and the Torah community. (The two interests are not necessarily identical, just overlapping.) The ability of Israel to compete economically in the world is primarily dependent on brainpower. And the Torah world represents Israel’s greatest untapped source of that brainpower.
From an economic point of view, Israel has no interest in chareidim performing menial work when they are capable of much more productive labor. As a professor of computer science at Bar Ilan University commented recently, “Anyone who can hold kop in Rabbi Akiva Eiger can be taught to be a highly skilled computer programmer.”

In the chareidi world too there is a growing recognition of the importance of new employment opportunities. At HaModia’s last annual Forum for Administrators, Bank of Israel head Stanley Fischer, spoke of the impact on Israel’s economic future of its high rate of non-employment. A number of chareidi MKs and communal leaders responded. Their responses took two forms. The first was to argue that even if both parents in large families worked, their income would still be inadequate (not an argument likely to command widespread sympathy when government welfare payments are growing 2.5 times as fast as family incomes). The second was to claim job market discrimination was responsible for low chareidi employment rates.

Both arguments implicitly accept the necessity of higher and better paid chareidi employment. In his interview with the English Mishpacha two weeks ago, Bnei Brak Mayor Yaakov Asher spoke of the upsurge in vocational education in the wake of dramatic cuts in child allowances.. Still, according to the article, there are only 13,000 employed individuals in Bnei Brak, a city of 165,000 souls. Clearly, it is a rare salary that can support 12.5 individuals.

The impact of poverty on Bnei Brak emerges clearly from the interview: a 20% drop-out from educational institutions among the youth (reflected in rowdiness on Purim requiring “literally thousands of police” to control); women who “are fairly collapsing under their burdens [of working and raising large families].”

Even assuming Rabbi Asher is correct that learning difficulties, rather than sociological dysfunction exacerbated by unremitting economic pressures, are the main cause of drop-outs, poverty still plays a crucial role. Strapped parents and schools (with 45-50 per classroom) cannot afford the testing to identify problems early or the tutoring and therapies necessary to overcome them. Similarly, municipal-sponsored tea parties to help stressed out women with their coping skills are likely to provide no more than a temporary band-aid.

As important as security, water, transportation, and employment are, all Jews in Israel share an even more fundamental interest: the need for a stronger connection to Torah. Without a belief in a unique Jewish mission and the sense of purpose it provides, secular Israelis with the skills to do so will eventually leave rather than live with under constant threat.

It is the responsibility of the Torah community to bear the message of Torah to our secular brethren. The more we show ourselves as feeling bound to them by a common fate the more receptive they will be to that message.

English Mishpacha, January 5, 2010

As an employee for a large corporation within a mainstream Jewish community, I’ve had the opportunity to respond to many requests for job search assistance from both individuals and Jewish organizations dedicated to this effort. As a result of this experience, I feel compelled to share a few thoughts on what I believe to be a significant concern. Several of the candidates who have approached me have a number ... Read More >>]]> An avid reader and commenter (who shall remain unnamed) put us on the trail of a professional who has been guiding yeshiva men entering the workplace. Said professional put together some of his reactions based on his significant experience in helping frum men find positions. After some prodding, said professional revealed his name. It turns out that he, too, is an avid Cross-Currents reader. Daniel Rubin has a Masters in Human Resources from Rochester Institute of Technology and has made the transition from Jewish education to corporate training and development. He has been involved in both of these fields for over a decade each and actively mentors young professionals. We thank him for this contribution, which is must reading for the inexperienced job seeker.

As an employee for a large corporation within a mainstream Jewish community, I’ve had the opportunity to respond to many requests for job search assistance from both individuals and Jewish organizations dedicated to this effort. As a result of this experience, I feel compelled to share a few thoughts on what I believe to be a significant concern. Several of the candidates who have approached me have a number of critical issues they need to address before actually applying for a job. They prepare poorly written resumes which reveal very active Jewish lifestyles, ambiguous advanced degrees, and “work experience” which is debatable and irrelevant. I have tried to delicately communicate the following ideas to these candidates:

• A resume is not a recorded history of extra-curricular activities from 9th grade and onward. Each statement has to send a powerful message that is meaningful to the non-Jewish reader and will make he/she want to distinguish your resume from the other thousand on the pile.

• Identifying yourself as an Orthodox Jew (or a member of any other religious or ethnic group, for that matter) is not to your advantage. It is not wise to encourage the reader to believe you are different than the rest of the world and may have special needs. Either make an accomplishment religiously neutral or exclude it.

• Please face the fact that your degree gives you no skills or experience and market yourself accordingly. Whether you like it or not, you are competing with people who have serious skills and experience in addition to the requisite educational backgrounds, so plan accordingly. (I am not looking to condemn our current educational system but it is important to avoid the negligence of misunderstanding your status in the job market). You may have seen or heard a great deal about drunk, overindulgent degenerates without priorities but these will not be the people you are dealing with to earn a living.

These resumes are embarrassing and would demean any professional who thoughtlessly passed them on. Unfortunately, the situation becomes worse as I try to impart these messages. This is because these candidates choose not to listen. Instead they will usually apply to additional jobs and then e-mail me for assistance with getting an Interview. Even if I could bypass the resume stage and deliver them straight to an interview, I would never do so considering the striking shortage of social and emotional intelligence that they have displayed throughout this process. In addition to shortcomings in powerful statements that sell their skills, many of them do not have the social skills to conduct a conversation with me, let alone a non-Jewish employer who will have much less latitude or patience.

To summarize, I have been seeing a significant amount of untrained job seekers who have little to no marketable skills with degrees that clearly did not teach them to discuss their field in a manner that is anything less than embarrassing.

I realize that responders to statements like these have a tendency to rush to ideological bandwagons. Perhaps this clarification will save a bit of time. I attended Kollel for many years, then spent time in chinuch and am therefore familiar with the” landscape”. As I stated earlier I am not using this letter to bury or praise the “system”. Instead my purpose is to point out that there are many people exiting our educational systems who are drastically unprepared to enter the job market. Now more than ever, the Jewish community is being asked to facilitate this transition directly, by brokering opportunities for these job seekers, and indirectly by the urgent calls for funds from the struggling mosdos that these job seekers are a part of. (I am not suggesting that they or their children should be rejected from these mosdos Chas VeShalom, merely pointing out that this job search is ultimately being subsidized.) I have met way too many people whose preparation for the financial responsibilities of marriage and family consists of a series of anecdotes, incidental conversations and some seed money that eventually runs out. They seem to feel that earning a degree with an indistinct title is sufficient preparation for immediate hire. It is highly unfortunate that this fallacy must be pointed out at advanced stages of financial responsibility. Wouldn’t it behoove a student to ask an institution offering a degree about how it will prepare them for the job market? Might a conversation or two with an experienced professional in a desired field shed some light on whether a degree program is a waste of time or a valid first step into the job market? My recent experiences and the world economic situation demand that now more than ever, transition planning which emphasizes professional development, social/emotional intelligence and financial realities are imperative.

It is wonderful to see the manner in which the Jewish community is responding to the vital need for employment. However an important first step in this process might be to disabuse some notions about college degrees and career preparedness present in our midst.

Though I described this trait in Rabbi Sherer, I don’t think I fully appreciated it. I did not realize how great the temptation is nor how rare is the ability to resist. We are not talking about turning down money to do something that is clearly wrong or where the potential downside is evident to all, but about something much more subtle: Refusing an immediate and obvious benefit because of a slight suspicion that it may one day generate a negative fall-out.

Our communal institutions are continually strapped for funds. Those responsible for the budgets of those institutions live under constant pressure, and the temptation for them not to examine each potential donor ... Read More >>]]> A few weeks ago, I wrote in these pages a piece summarizing some major lessons from the life of Rabbi Moshe Sherer, zt”l. I now realize that I left out a very important lesson: Rabbi Sherer was extraordinarily careful never to let anyone close to him whom he feared might ever reflect badly on Torah Jewry. Many times, he rejected out of hand suggestions that Agudath Israel of America honor particular people out of a concern that the award might come back to haunt the organization one day.

Though I described this trait in Rabbi Sherer, I don’t think I fully appreciated it. I did not realize how great the temptation is nor how rare is the ability to resist. We are not talking about turning down money to do something that is clearly wrong or where the potential downside is evident to all, but about something much more subtle: Refusing an immediate and obvious benefit because of a slight suspicion that it may one day generate a negative fall-out.

Our communal institutions are continually strapped for funds. Those responsible for the budgets of those institutions live under constant pressure, and the temptation for them not to examine each potential donor under a magnifying glass is great. It is not hard to come up with a heter for failing to do so, and it is easy to place the onus elsewhere if something runs amiss.

Many of those who sought to join Rabbi Sherer’s inner circle and were rebuffed, for instance, were men of means, accustomed to being honored for their ability to contribute to this cause or institution. Each of them presumably came with a chezkas kashrus as an upstanding frum Jew. And each of them had numerous of other institutional or organizational affiliations. It would have been the simplest thing in the world for Rabbi Sherer to simply rely on their resumes and gain another major supporter for Agudath Israel of America.

But he refused to hide behind the presumption that others must have thoroughly investigated a particular person before accepting his money or honoring him. He did his own investigations and did not place exclusive reliance on any single person’s judgment.

Why was he such a zealous gatekeeper, when the natural tendency of any leader of a major institution or organization, especially one constantly in need of new funds, is to receive all who wish to draw close with a welcoming embrace? Why did he devote so much time to conducting personal investigations to determine who might one day tarnish his reputation or embarrass Agudath Israel of America?

Certainly it was not because Agudath Israel had no need of money. Rabbi Sherer always carried around in his head a list of new projects he wanted to undertake when the appropriate personnel and funding were in place.

The answer, ultimately, is simple: Kiddush Hashem was his lifetime mission, and he would not do anything that might ever endanger that mission. He lived in absolute dread of anything that smacked of possible chilul Hashem.

The most essential element of the Rabbi Sherer’s sterling reputation and that of Agudath Israel under his leadership was, in the final analysis, not the sharpness of his judgment of character, but the strength of his devotion to Kiddush Hashem. If we wish to protect the honor of Torah and Torah Jewry, as he did, we have no choice but to devote ourselves to Kiddush Hashem and sensitize ourselves to anything that might possibly lead to chilul Hashem.

In protecting against chilul Hashem, he was aided by faith in the words of Torah and Chazal. If Chazal taught, “Do not believe in yourself as long as you are alive,” those words applied to everyone. In his new work, Six Constant Mitzvos, Rabbi Yitzchok Berkowitz defines yiras Hashem, inter alia, as a constant awareness of how easy it is to destroy your life, and the understanding that if you so choose, Hashem will not stop you.

Rabbi Sherer had that palpable yiras Hashem. Precisely because he knew how vulnerable we all are to moral failure and understood the traps that we all face, was he so scrupulously careful in vetting those whose names were associated with Agudath Israel of America.

(That is not to say he was never fooled. No matter how sharp one’s judgment of people, it is never perfect. And even the finest of Jews can make mistakes and slip.)

The greater our yiras Hashem, the greater the number of precautions that we take that no chilul Hashem should ever emanate from our actions, either directly or indirectly. It is said of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter that he refused to be alone in a room with money belonging to others, lest he be tempted to steal. How much more so was he careful with respect to the proscriptions of yichud. If Chazal said, “ein apitropis l’arios,” those words were no mere metaphors or figures of speech, but to be taken literally as expressions of the danger to each of us.

If the great Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, the founder of the mussar movement of character development, did not trust himself, how much more so do we have to recognize our own vulnerability.

That is no less true with respect to our susceptibility to being blinded by money. If the Torah teaches that “bribery blinds the eyes of the wise and make false the words of the righteous,” Rabbi Sherer treated that as an immutable rule of human nature. And from that immutable rule it followed that those who do not view themselves as either “chachamim” or as “tzaddikim” must be even more careful to guard themselves and remain constantly vigilant for signs of being “bribed” in any possible manner.

Because Rabbi Sherer took the warnings of Chazal so seriously, he was always prepared to make the extra effort and take the extra time to ensure that the people upon whom he placed his imprimatur were Jews of sterling character, for whom the development of their middos was an ongoing project. For only then could he have any confidence that they would not one day bring disgrace to the Torah and Torah Judaism.

So ashamed was she that ever since her discovery, the woman had been in a depression. Frum from birth, she said that what had broken her was not only the discovery itself, but the reactions she’d gotten from two other frum Jews. The first, a close friend, had suggested she help the director set up a bona fide organization.

“But all this time he was lying to me, and getting me to steal for him! How can I continue working with him?”

Her friend seemed inadequately horrified.

She then consulted a neighbor who is a rabbi. He told her that for guidance she should go to a posek, but in his opinion — since he knew that her family, too, was ... Read More >>]]> One morning about a year ago, I got a call from a distraught friend. She had been working for a few months as the secretary of a tzedaka organization, and had just discovered that none of the funds had been used to “benefit needy children,” as claimed by the public relations brochure she herself had helped produce. The money had been going into the director’s pocket, who later explained himself by saying that his family, too, was in dire need.

So ashamed was she that ever since her discovery, the woman had been in a depression. Frum from birth, she said that what had broken her was not only the discovery itself, but the reactions she’d gotten from two other frum Jews. The first, a close friend, had suggested she help the director set up a bona fide organization.

“But all this time he was lying to me, and getting me to steal for him! How can I continue working with him?”

Her friend seemed inadequately horrified.

She then consulted a neighbor who is a rabbi. He told her that for guidance she should go to a posek, but in his opinion — since he knew that her family, too, was in difficult financial straits –perhaps she shouldn’t quit until she found another job.

“What? Even though he knowingly involved me in ganeiva?”

“Just until you find other work.”

So she was struggling to get her bearings, spiritually speaking. And on my end of this phone call, I was going through my own reactions.

I’d known there was such a thing, of course. I wasn’t unaware, growing up, of the dictionary definition. But aside from the Watergate Scandal, outright liars didn’t turn up, in any way I was aware of. I never had to sift through my parents’ words like a gold-digger, panning for the real thing.

Far be it from me to play down the fact that the secular world of my childhood was bankrupt, lacking as it did certain essential features, namely 1) my Jewish identity (otherwise known as “myself,”) and 2) education regarding Ha Kodesh Boruch Hu. But one thing, one central thing, I could rely on without thinking: my parents didn’t lie. It didn’t even occur to me to imagine life otherwise.

Never in this case didn’t mean sometimes. It didn’t mean occasional white lies are understandable and sometimes necessary. It means: lying isn’t one of your options. Have you done something wrong? Say so. (And stealing? Stealing wasn’t even on the radar screen.) Did my parents instruct me verbally to this effect? Did they ever have to punish me for a lie? I’m sure they must have, but of that I have no recollection. Lying was just something they wouldn’t have` countenanced. They themselves would have been shamed – it would have been beneath their dignity — for their children to violate the integrity of words. It would have been dishonorable, abhorrent, a cowardly breach of an unspoken covenant.

Since I could take it for granted that my parents spoke the truth as they saw it, truth was the foundation of my childish universe, the way it’s supposed to be. So although I didn’t know what to call Him, or how to call Him, or even that it was possible to call Him, Hashem’s unnamed existence was palpable. My parents’ truthfulness was consistent with His Presence.

Only years later would I learn the reason for this: Emes is one of His names.

Such innocence is undeniably beautiful. But it can also be deadly, if one isn’t prepared for the fact that the world of men (and women) is as full of lies as the proverbial pomegranate is full of seeds. The innocence is doubly deadly, and doubly enlightening, if (as was the case with me, it shames me to say) one’s introductory experiences with the phenomenon of lying are received as a baalat-teshuva, at the hands of three Orthodox brethren. In their confidence that they were on G-d’s side and He on theirs, they considered themselves above some details of the law, both halachic and civil.

Whenever a self-proclaimed religious individual – regardless of which faith — commits a crime, the reaction is one of repugnance and scorn for the discrepancy between a person’s public and private selves. Those who have rejected the validity of religious faith – either their own in particular or the phenomenon of religion in general — will of course feel especially vindicated by the hypocritical behavior. Nonetheless, it seems to me that when a Jew commits a crime, other Jews feel an especially strong sense of personal shame and culpability. This is no accident. It’s the way it should be. It is in the unique nature of the Divine Covenant with the Jewish People that even against our will, for better or worse, we are ultimately bound to Him as one, in spite of ourselves.

It’s Monday, I told her. Rabbi Zev Leff gives his weekly shiur in one hour. Maybe you’ll be able to speak with him afterwards. Rabbi Leff will shed light on this situation.

We met at the Israel Center.

The shiur was about the pre-Messianic era.

“What is the purpose of Moshiach?” said Rabbi Leff. “To bring the whole world to a recognition of G-d. Only when the entire world believes that G-d is One, will we really believe it ourselves, that G-d is One, the sole Force behind nature.

“G-d is concerned that all human beings should believe in Him, that they should recognize we are created beings and that there is a G-d Who created us. This is the goal of Creation. How will this recognition come about? Respect for the Jewish People is respect for G-d. G-d cares that the non-Jews should think of us as a wise and understanding nation, and in the eyes of the nations, it is the Torah that is our wisdom and our understanding. When we don’t keep the mitzvahs properly, we will be considered fools in the eyes of the world. Kavod for the Ribono Shel Olam is kavod for the Jewish People.”
In addition to the phone call, I had just read in that morning’s paper about the most recent financial scandal involving a Jew. So up went my hand. “What meaning,” I asked Rabbi Leff, “can be found in the chillul Hashem caused by the contribution of so many Jews to the current global financial crisis?”

Rabbi Leff replied: “Twenty-seven years ago, the Klausenberger Rebbe said that before the Moschiach comes, the nations will have to recognize the significance of Am Yisroel, but many people won’t even know what Jews are. So a righteous Jew will die in India and the whole world will become aware of it.”

Amazement rippled through the room. Two weeks previously, the Chabad couple Rabbi Gavriel and Rivka Holtzberg zt”l had died in the terrorist attacks in Mumbai, India.

“In this pre-Messianic era,” he continued, “the peoples of the world must become aware of the importance of Jews. Just as they were made aware of the goodness of Jews, they have to become aware of the negative about us, as well. Maybe the reaction of the non-Jews will push us to become the people we are supposed to be.”

After the class, my friend spoke to Rabbi Leff and called me later to tell me about it. “He said that my neighbor, the rabbi, had made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” My heart lifted. Thank G-d that that was his answer! It instantly restored my faith. Even the respectful way Rabbi Leff put it, giving his fellow rabbi the benefit of the doubt, was in itself a Kiddush Hashem.

“Yes, Rabbi Leff said he must have misunderstood my situation because there’s absolutely nothing in hallacha that would allow me to continue working there. And you know what? Maybe that’s what happened. Maybe because of my Hebrew, I didn’t explain the situation correctly.”

May Hashem bless our teachers. And may we be privileged to fulfill our People’s destiny as a wise and understanding nation.

There are singular events throughout our lives that provide unusual and unexpected inspiration. At times they are a source of insight, providing resolutions to questions that have long been troubling. While it can often be difficult to trace the connection between the event/circumstance and the answer that suddenly presents itself, surely we must, at minimum, express our gratitude to those who provided us with these opportunities for enlightment. Hence, I would like to acknowledge my great debt to a number of people who are responsible for one of the most memorable experiences of my life: to Rabbi Ariel Levine shlita, chief rabbi of Georgia [in the Former Soviet Union], to Dr. Rosenshein and Baruch Hertz of the Va’ad L’Hatzalat Nidchei Yisroel of Agudath Israel of America, and to my wife Nechama for her part in establishing the new seminary for girls in Tbilisi, Georgia. B’ezrat Hashem, this new school will soon become part of the Ma’alot/Nevey Yerushalayim network. It was through the combined efforts of these people that I was fortunate to spend five days in Tbilisi this past week.

Let me first apprise you of the question that found resolution through this experience. In this past ... Read More >>]]> By Rabbi Dovid Landesman

There are singular events throughout our lives that provide unusual and unexpected inspiration. At times they are a source of insight, providing resolutions to questions that have long been troubling. While it can often be difficult to trace the connection between the event/circumstance and the answer that suddenly presents itself, surely we must, at minimum, express our gratitude to those who provided us with these opportunities for enlightment. Hence, I would like to acknowledge my great debt to a number of people who are responsible for one of the most memorable experiences of my life: to Rabbi Ariel Levine shlita, chief rabbi of Georgia [in the Former Soviet Union], to Dr. Rosenshein and Baruch Hertz of the Va’ad L’Hatzalat Nidchei Yisroel of Agudath Israel of America, and to my wife Nechama for her part in establishing the new seminary for girls in Tbilisi, Georgia. B’ezrat Hashem, this new school will soon become part of the Ma’alot/Nevey Yerushalayim network. It was through the combined efforts of these people that I was fortunate to spend five days in Tbilisi this past week.

Let me first apprise you of the question that found resolution through this experience. In this past week’s parashah, Vayigash, we come across one of the most dramatic scenes in all of Tanach; Yosef’s revelation to his brothers.

Ani Yosef, ha’od avi chai? I am Yosef, is my father still alive?
Some commentaries explain that with this statement Yosef was giving Yehudah, and by extension all of the brothers, mussar; suddenly you are worried about our father’s physical and mental health! When you sold me you had no such concerns!

S’forno takes a different approach and explains that Yosef could not believe that his father had been able to survive their long separation. Truthfully, that comment leaves me perplexed because it has traces of arrogance that I find hard to accept. Additionally, the statement was made in response to Yehuda’s repeated declaration that incarcerating Binyamin would lead to Yaakov’s death. Why would that trigger Yosef’s decision to reveal his identity when he had chosen not to do so beforehand?

In the previous parashah, Ramban speculates why Yosef never contacted his father during their twenty-two year separation. Yosef had become the second most influential man in the most powerful nation on the face of the earth. There was no reason why he could have not dispatched a messenger to his father, even if diplomatic protocol might not have allowed him to go back to Chevron himself. Yet he maintained strict silence. Ramban suggests that Yosef chose not to inform his father because he knew that the dreams he had told the family about were a form of nevuah [prophecy] and he was bound to allow that vision to be fulfilled by having the entire family come to Egypt. This too has never satisfied me.

Where do we find a prophet manipulating circumstances to insure that his prophecy come true? Does it not seem to be a demonstration of lack of faith on the prophet’s part; God grants him a vision and yet he lacks confidence and therefore does what he can to make sure that the vision is translated into fruition?!? Moreover, if this was Yosef’s motive in remaining stoically silent when his brothers came to him, in what way did Yehuda’s statement that seizing Binyamin would bring their father to his grave now convince Yosef to reveal himself?
I arrived in Tbilisi, capital of Georgia, very early on Wednesday morning. My group came from Tel Aviv, we were scheduled to meet an additional group who had first visited Baku, Azerbaijan. The original plans were to meet them at the airport and proceed together to Gori, birthplace of Stalin and the site of a museum dedicated to his memory as well as of the only statue of him still standing in the FSU. The mission’s planning department, however, did not foresee that the times of Azerbaijan Airlines scheduling are to be taken as suggestions and we therefore ended up travelling to Gori without them. We arrived well after sun down and had to skip the museum. We were taken directly to the local Jewish Center to meet with members of the community who attend bi-weekly programs sponsored by the Va’ad’s kollel and educational shlichim in Tbilisi.

There are only a few hundred Jews left in Gori, but some fifty of them had gathered there that night to greet us and to receive chizuk from our very presence. To my utter surprise, most of them were young – late teens or early twenties – and included quite a few couples who were in various stages of becoming full fledged ba’alei teshuvah; some of them having accepted taharat hamishpachah and Shabbat observance. Having grown up in an environment where mitzvah observance demands no special effort, I was literally blown away by young men and women who were so totally and obviously dedicated to Torah. In places like Gori, there are no external pressures to lead anyone to identify himself as Jewish. Why would a group of young men and women do so in such an isolated corner of the world? In Flatbush I can understand the social pressures that would bring young woman to dress b’tzniut, but in Gori?

The meeting with the Gori Jews lasted perhaps an hour and a half and the Ma’ariv that we davened together was more than just memorable. It created an image of what mesirat nefesh really means. I recalled the words of Rav Shlomo Volbe zt”l who declared that the yetzer ha-ra of our generation is mitzvat anashim m’lumadah – performing the commandments by rote and devoid of any passion. That might well characterize our communities, but not Gori!

Thursday morning we davened Shacharit at the Ashkenazi Tiferet Rachel Synagogue – a magnificent structure refurbished just three months ago. We joined the rest of the mission participants who had finally arrived from Baku and watched a performance by the Va’ad sponsored Tiferet Tzvi yeshiva. We then proceeded to the new girls’ seminary where we met with the ten young women studying there. The Va’ad is finalizing arrangements with Ma’alot/Nevey Yerushalayim to have the school become part of that network of institutions so that successful completion of the course of study – which includes math, computer graphics, English as well as limudei kodesh – will enable students to earn a fully recognized B.A. The mission participants affixed mezuzot to the new facility. Recognizing the critical role that the school plays in the community by giving girls the opportunity to remain in Tbilisi for post high school studies, the Va’ad leadership began negotiations for the purchase of the apartment next door so that a dormitory facility can be added to the school, expanding its reach to girls throughout the FSU.

On Friday we were to witness to what I can only describe as the most unequivocal demonstration of mesirat nefesh that I have ever seen. On paper, it seems almost anti-climatic – three britot – to be done by Rabbi Fisher who had flown in especially for the occasion. By his own calculation, Rav Fisher has performed over 1,000 of these in the FSU and it would not be surprising were he no longer emotional. But for a neophyte like me, these britot would prove to be an eye-opener as to the resiliency of the neshama ha-yehudit and its unextinguishable desire to find expression in the tangible world and its unbreakable link to the chain of our people.

Brit number one was performed on a five year old boy, David, who clung to his mother desperately, his cries of fear so understandable as his clothing was removed and he was placed on the table with no ability to relate to the significance of what was about to transpire. The young mother, divorced from her non-Jewish husband, fought back her own tears as she determinedly gave her son to the mohel. His feet were bound together to prevent him from kicking and endangering himself and I could not help but conjure up an image of Yitzchak at the akeidah. The mother stroked the child’s face lovingly. I understood not a word that she was saying but her tone and intent transcended any language barrier. Why, I asked myself, was she doing this? What benefit could she see in entering her child into brito shel Avraham avinu? She was not observant of mitzvot – in truth, she did not really know anything about mitzvot, about Torah and about being part of an am ha-nivchar. Nor did her father or grandfather who were there as well. Could it be that the communists in seventy years of rule had not succeeded in their attempts to destroy any spark of Jewish life? I had always assumed that they had only been unsuccessful among a stubborn few who went to jail because they had furtively layed tefillin or kindled Shabbat candles. But this woman was the picture of assimilation – she had even married a non-Jew! Why would she submit her son to the procedure? Why did she not grab him back and run away forever?

The question was only exacerbated by brit number two; Daniel, eight years old, there with his mother. He had heard the terrified screams of David and had not flinched. He had watched the procedure curiously and now it was his turn. Where does an eight year old get this kind of courage? He removed his shoes, his socks and his pants and asked the mohel whether he could have a pillow to make himself somewhat more comfortable. The Tibilissi rosh kolel gave him his laptop to distract him and block his view of what the mohel was about to do. He emitted a short grunt when the local anesthetic was administered and the only other sound he made was his own amen to the berachot of the mohel and of Rav Moshe Scheinerman shlita who served as sandak and ba’al ha-milah representing klal yisrael. With tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, Daniel’s mother accepted our mazal tovs and again I asked myself, why was this woman doing this? She too had left a gentile man, Daniel’s biological father, and was taking her first tentative steps toward Judaism, enrolling Daniel in the Va’ad sponsored yeshiva.
Before David and Daniel left us, the mothers confirmed that both were first born children. We therefore merited participating in two pidyonei ha-ben utilizing the services of a mission participant who is a kohen. A local couple who are devoted attendees of the shiurim offered by the kolel brought their three year old with them and we were all able to participate in his chalaken.

And then came brit number three, a fifty year old man. I had the privilege of serving as his sandak and of giving him his name – Moshe. He was accompanied only by his son who had undergone milah a decade previously. Now the son had convinced the father to join him, and he did so with extraordinary pride and joy. I looked at his face and at his smile as he listened to the mohel’s translated instructions and the answer to my questions about Yosef suddenly occurred to me.
Natural order dictates that prolonged separation erode most feelings; our memories of what once was fade over time. While one might not be surprised to discover nostalgia among those who actually experienced an event or circumstance, one should expect that those who at best had only heard whispers of what once was would be ambivalent about the past. Should this not have been characteristic of Georgian Jewry after a forced separation from the main body of klal yisrael for seventy long years of silent exile? Why would we expect that a spark remain, an ember waiting to be nourished that could again burst into flame?

Having travelled to Tbilisi and spending Shabbat with some of the most remarkable people on the face of the earth, I bear witness to the nitzchiut of the neshamah ha-yehudit – the eternity of a Jew’s relationship to his source. There is a fire in the Jewish heart that waits to be fanned into a great flame that will yet bring the remnant of our people back to the body of klal Yisroel.

I am Yosef and I declare to all who might hear this message: my brothers are still alive!
Yosef in Egypt suspected that after twenty-two years of separation, Yaakov might have forgotten the special bond that he had once shared with his beloved son, Yosef. Devastated by Yosef’s disappearance, perhaps Yaakov had reacted in the most plausible manner, pushing the memory of Yosef into a back corner so that he could go on with his life. Perhaps Yosef had avoided contact with his father during their long separation because he feared that his father was no longer the same man he once knew, circumstances and bereavement having forced him to become detached from the memories of the past, not fully believing that he would be reunited with the son he so loved. And then Yehudah came forward and told Yosef that this was not true. Were Binyamin not returned as he had pledged, there was no structure that would provide Yaakov with protection. The feelings of a father about a child never dim, he never forgets! The void in Yaakov’s heart was as deep now as it had been when he first saw the blood on the coat he had sewn for Yosef.
I am Yosef, is it possible that my father is still alive – the same father I once knew? I am Yosef – are my brothers still alive – brothers who maintain their connection to klal Yisrael in times of persecution and in times of freedom.

The parallels are clear and I can see them now that I have Georgia on my mind.

[Rabbi Landesman is a veteran mechanech in Israel, and a frequent contributor to Cross-Currents.]

For what it is worth, I will offer one man’s opinion, written as a bit of an insider in the world of gerus, since I sit from time to time on a respected beis din for gerus. The opinions expressed herein are my own; they were not vetted by my colleagues.

I have come neither to praise EJF, nor to bury it. If I believed that EJF was worthless, I wouldn’t bother writing. It is only because I see the potential for accomplishment that I pen these thoughts, in the hope that others will feel the same way.

The chief problem with EJF is not its recent scandal-ridden past. The problem is that to date, it has not done enough to insure that the past will not be repeated. The way in which it has addressed the past hardly inspires any confidence.

The first thing that EJF should have done is promptly apologized. It should have apologized to any and all victims, and to the Torah public for sullying its reputation. The victims include gerim whose credentials were unfairly ... Read More >>]]> If you don’t know what it stands for, skip the rest of this piece. I am not going to rehash the whole sordid affair.

For what it is worth, I will offer one man’s opinion, written as a bit of an insider in the world of gerus, since I sit from time to time on a respected beis din for gerus. The opinions expressed herein are my own; they were not vetted by my colleagues.

I have come neither to praise EJF, nor to bury it. If I believed that EJF was worthless, I wouldn’t bother writing. It is only because I see the potential for accomplishment that I pen these thoughts, in the hope that others will feel the same way.

The chief problem with EJF is not its recent scandal-ridden past. The problem is that to date, it has not done enough to insure that the past will not be repeated. The way in which it has addressed the past hardly inspires any confidence.

The first thing that EJF should have done is promptly apologized. It should have apologized to any and all victims, and to the Torah public for sullying its reputation. The victims include gerim whose credentials were unfairly questioned, and those who were browbeaten into switching from the programs of perfectly valid batei din to those more to the liking of its past director.

Instead of apologizing, EJF issued a statement days later that tries – poorly at that – to provide itself with cover. There are still people out there whose reaction to every problem discovered within the Torah community is to cover up and deny, and to issue vague assurances that everything they do is under the supervision of unnamed Gedolei Torah. Those people should not be trusted with anything of importance. The rest of us know that Gedolei Torah do not micromanage the running of large institutions other than their own. Believing that anyone but a certain part of the population would be satisfied with such an explanation is an insult to the intelligence of everyone else.

The RCA (which is responsible for a great portion of the conversion in the US, and has been working hard in the last few years to vastly improve its own standards by switching to a regional beis din system) had every reason to demand the dismantling of EJF. Parts of EJF’s leadership were working to cast aspersions on every conversion performed by centrist Orthodox rabbis in the country. (Who can forget the remark made by one of them mocking and delegitimizing rabbis in brown suits, or calling into question the conversion of any candidate who believed that the earth might be older than 5770 years?) To its credit, the RCA avoided triumphalism, and in a timely fashion issued a statement that showed responsibility and understanding of its public. It began with a show of concern for all who were impacted by the scandal, and offered help – including phone numbers – for any candidates who needed assistance. How the EJF did not do the same is beyond me.

Beyond a lack of any apology or offer of assistance, EJF offered nothing concrete to reassure anyone that the problems of the past will not reoccur. EJF, according to rumor, has doled out around 26 million dollars over the last years. This is wonderful for cash-strapped mosdos ha-Torah, but should mean quite a few people whose conflict of interest, or even appearance of conflict of interest, makes them ill-suited to stay on top of the management of the future EJF. I hope that the money will continue to flow to them – but the possibility of error, or even the perception of possibility of error, can only be addressed by a decision-making process that is open, transparent, and in the hands of people who are squeaky-clean and have the public trust.

More importantly, EJF arrogated to itself the right to set standards for all gerus in the US. Whether or not it actually set unusual standards – whether leniencies, stringencies, or both – is disputed. What cannot be disputed is that if EJF continues to covet the position of supreme setter of standards, it should be shunned and dropped by every self-respecting beis din. There is no one in the American Torah world who can claim such authority, and the exigencies of the realities here make it impossible for anyone to set policies from a distance. Gedolei Torah have always emphasized that many, many questions require the knowledge and experience of people closer to the local situation.

This criticism does not mean that EJF should cease to be. Quite to the contrary, it can offer important support and professionalism to existing batei din, similar to what AJOP added to the world of kiruv. EJF needs a credible and well thought out mission statement, and a delineation of its goals. It needs to tell us just what it hopes to accomplish.

Because gerus affects all Jews, EJF needs to be inclusive of all legitimate batei din. It needs to mimic the cooperation of batei din for gittin, where the panels across the Orthodox spectrum do speak to each other and cooperate to insure that the gittin that women receive will be respected all over.

As for the past, the public should not be unnecessarily harsh on those who participated in EJF events in the past. My own experience was that every single person I knew who attended did so with great reservations, and without offering anything. The events were valuable because they allowed batei din to network, and because they provided the presence of some stellar figures. Participants thought that they were giving up nothing by simply attending without modifying their own practices. This turns out to have been an error, but an understandable one. In fact, attendance offered credibility, which is what allowed EJF under its previous director to position itself as the voice of gerus. (It is true that some saw the problems immediately. Rav Aharon Feldman, shlit”a, wanted nothing to do with EJF; Rav Hershel Schachter, shlit”a, attended only once in person long enough to see what was going on, and was turned off enough to want nothing more to do with it.)

Should all these participants now walk away? I don’t think so. The organization, properly run, could be a great chizuk. What is needed is, as one of my friends put it, a separation, not a divorce. Rabbonim and batei din should make it clear that they will be prepared to deal with an EJF that is responsibly run, and organized in a manner that it cannot become a monster. They will stand at the sidelines and watch from a distance to see if EJF can do a better job than it has done in the last few days.

The gemara in Yevamos calls kabolas gerim a mitzvah – so much so that once a beis din had determined the suitability of a candidate, delaying his immersion in the mikveh is called a shihui mitzvah. With the recent formation of a rabbinic group that champions standards of conversion that the vast majority of the Torah world repudiates, it is more important than ever for b’nei Torah of all stripes, persuasions and headcoverings to band together to protect the primacy of halacha from this new assault, and to add hiddur to this mitzvah.

In Greek tragedy the hero’s tragic flaw is always intertwined with his greatness. An outsized sexual appetite is not self-evidently related to the quality that – even more than his physical prowess – made Tiger Woods arguably the greatest golfer ever: his phenomenal cool under pressure.

Yet watching the wreck of Woods’ career, one experiences something of the horror that Athenian audiences felt. His descent was every bit as precipitous and sudden as that of Oedipus upon learning that Jocasta was his mother. A month ago, he was the most admired man in the world. One could not walk around the corner in any major metropolitan airport in the world without confronting Tiger’s smiling visage or his hand raised in triumph on some 18th green.

Today, he is the non-stop butt of every comedian on the planet, and could not show his face in public without the sure knowledge that everyone is pointing at him and sniggering. The advertisers who made him the first sports figure ... Read More >>]]> The Tiger Woods saga hardly rises to the level of Greek tragedy. A taste for cheap women is not exactly the type of tragic flaw to warrant the attention of the great tragedians. It is too ubiquitous.

In Greek tragedy the hero’s tragic flaw is always intertwined with his greatness. An outsized sexual appetite is not self-evidently related to the quality that – even more than his physical prowess – made Tiger Woods arguably the greatest golfer ever: his phenomenal cool under pressure.

Yet watching the wreck of Woods’ career, one experiences something of the horror that Athenian audiences felt. His descent was every bit as precipitous and sudden as that of Oedipus upon learning that Jocasta was his mother. A month ago, he was the most admired man in the world. One could not walk around the corner in any major metropolitan airport in the world without confronting Tiger’s smiling visage or his hand raised in triumph on some 18th green.

Today, he is the non-stop butt of every comedian on the planet, and could not show his face in public without the sure knowledge that everyone is pointing at him and sniggering. The advertisers who made him the first sports figure to garner a billion dollars in endorsements are dropping him right and left. It is not even clear that he can regain his status as the world’s best golfer. Last year, after reconstructive knee surgery and missing the opening months of the golf tour, he still won six tournaments, far more than anyone else. But as one competitor put it, “He could still be the greatest golfer in the world with a broken leg; it is less clear what impact a broken psyche will have.”

In Greek tragedy, terrible things do not just happen to the hero; he brings them upon himself. Those things that we term tragic today – disease, natural disaster – events where any explanatory connection to the victim is totally obscure, were not tragic for the Greeks. What aroused their cathartic horror was watching the unfolding drama, in which a person blessed with both good fortune and many gifts self-destructs.

Winessing such self-destruction still horrifies today. For all the efforts to reduce the Woods saga to the stuff of jokes, I suspect that there are many who have experienced the chilling thought: If even Tiger Woods, sitting on the top of the world, could cause his secure life to dissolve overnight, how can I be sure that I will not do so as well? Surely, there has been more than one person on the planet tempted by the frisson of sexual adventure who has reconsidered, in light of Woods’ fate, whether the momentary thrill could possibly be worth the potential for harm. “Calculate the enjoyment of the sin against its cost,” our Sages advise us.

Most of us try to cultivate a certain image that we present to the world. And accordingly, we are vulnerable to becoming laughing-stocks in the eyes of our “world,” however large or small, if our private behavior deviates far from the image we wish to present. The fear of becoming such a laughing-stock may be Tiger’s greatest gift to mankind.

Some may assume that all Tiger Woods’ many words about how his family is the most precious thing in the world were the products of a slick press agent, lacking even the barest modicum of sincerity. I’m not one of them. I suspect the love and admiration he has expressed on so many occasions for his father Earl, a Lt. Colonel in the U.S. Army, and his mother is deeply felt. And if so, how devastating it must be for him to realize that his own children will never grow up to speak of him as a role model for them in the same way.

In all likelihood, Woods loves his children, perhaps even his wife. The trysts were not something he engaged in because he did not care about his children, but, as Bill Clinton once explained, “because he could,” or at least thought he could, without consequences. His unmasking will make it a little harder for the next pleasure seeker to push all thought of consequences out of mind.

WHAT HAPPENED TO TIGER WOODS is notable only because of the magnitude of the crash and the fact that it is taking place in full public view. But sexual adventurism is only one of many ways to risk one’s happiness, and Woods is far from alone in having destroyed his life. If we look about us, we would note that the number of those whose lives are destroyed by their own behavior and the bad choices is far larger than those struck with cancer or other tragedies beyond their control.

Rabbi Berel Wein records in Vintage Wein the story of vastly rich family that fell into endless litigation over the will of the source of the family fortune. At the time of the latter’s death, the value of his estate was sufficient to guarantee each of his heirs and their children a life of financial security. But because the estate was tied up in litigation, the heirs were unable to sell off real estate holdings before the bubble burst. After years of protracted litigation, they were left with an estate worth almost nothing, and hundreds of millions of dollars in legal bills and back taxes owed. Each of us could multiply such tales endlessly.

There is a crucial difference between those who squander their own happiness recklessly and those who are visited with the trials of Job. In the latter category – those who lost their loved ones in the Holocaust, parents of numerous children with severe disabilities, sufferers from life-threatening disease – one still finds many who present a smiling countenance to everyone they meet and continue to approach life in a positive, upbeat mode. They can still rejoice in God’s blessings, and find satisfaction in dealing with adversity. Among those who have made a mess of their own lives out of an inability to control their desires or temper or by virtue of self-destructive decisions one never encounters a happy person.

I wish I could say that self-destructive behavior, like that of Tiger Woods, is unknown among Orthodox Jews, or at least among Orthodox rabbis. But I have no particular desire to make a fool of myself.

I am not aware, however, of any figure revered by a large cross-section of Torah Jewry whose private behavior ever stood revealed to be wildly dissonant from his public image. Vast Torah knowledge is usually one aspect of that reverence, but only when it is accompanied by a lifetime of work on self-mastery of one’s drives and desires, the subtle as well as the commonplace.

Constant, intense efforts at character development, including knowledge of one’s weaknesses and the ability to anticipate the consequences of one’s actions, is, at the end of the day, the only protection of against making a terrible botch of our lives.

Cliff Notes for Readers:

1) I do not generally think it necessary to supply reading notes to pieces I have written. But since this piece was published in last Friday’s Jerusalem Post, it has attracted a sufficiently large number of inane comments on the blogosphere and to me directly that I feel compelled to do so.

2) At the outset, I should say that this piece was written for a general audience, both secular and religious, in the Jerusalem Post, and should be judged as such. I was neither playing insider baseball for the chareidi world — despite one oblique reference to a scandal currently roiling that world — nor evading it. I just happened to have had another subject. To judge from the enthusiastic response of the Post’s secular op-ed editor and other readers who chose to read the column as a I wrote it — i.e., straightforward use of Tiger Woods’ fate as a moshol for lessons applicable to all of us — I largely succeeded.

3) What was I trying to say?: a)People — religious and non-religious alike — can destroy their lives through any number of character flaws, and sometimes just one mistake or one flaw is more than enough; b) contemplating the examples of those who have done so — the more dramatically the better — can serve as a protection against doing so oneself; c) thinking about the prospect of making a laughing stock of oneself or sacrificing forever the respect of those whose good opinion one values by acting in direct controvention of one’s professed values is another way to spare oneself the experience; d) ultimately the only protection from such self-destruction is constant work on one’s character and a belief in Chazal’s warnings about the temptations to which we are all subject.

4) Frankly, I’m astounded by those who chose to read this column in light of the aforementioned scandal, and even more so those who chose to read it as a paean to frum virtue. None of the above points were intended to celebrate the superiority of religious over non-religious people or to suggest that its message only applied to the latter. Indeed I wrote with more of the former in mind since the potential for radical disssonance between professed values and behavior is greater for them. Not by accident did I write that self-destruction is not unknown in the religious world, or even among rabbis.

5) I would still stick by my point that figures revered by a vast cross-section of Klal Yisrael will not stand revealed as having feet of clay. Having one’s picture in the Israeli Yated Ne’eman, even being called harav hagaon by that publication, is not exactly the same as being revered, or proof that one has spent a lifetime working on character development. There are many communal askonim whose middos are of the highest level, but that quality is not known to characterize all askanim, not even all those who serve great Torah figures and upon whom the latter rely.

6) To say that revered figures are never revealed to be something quite different than the public thought is not to say that they never make mistakes or that they are incapable of being misled. Such a claim flies in the face of the history of many machlokesen over the centuries involving figures of towering stature. Much of the current disappointment is a reflection of the mistaken confusion of da’as Torah with something akin to nevuah or infallibility. Until we overcome that illusion we are doomed to many disappointments.