I haven’t been much to Beit Shemesh, the once sleepy town not far from Jerusalem on the road to Tel Aviv, mainly because I haven’t been much to places in Israel outside of Jerusalem. One visit was about a dozen years ago when family members and I went with my friend Rabbi Jay Marcus, then the Rabbi of the Young Israel of Staten Island, to a ceremony in the main shul. Several years previously, Rabbi Marcus had opened in Jerusalem a post-high school seminary called Reishit for boys from the Diaspora. It had quickly earned a fine reputation and was planning to relocate to a not-yet-built campus in Beit Shemesh.
At the event, which was crowded with local Sephardic Jews, the town’s mayor spoke optimistically about the influx of English-speaking families, many of which recently made aliyah, and of the housing being built in Ramat Beit Shemesh, a new neighborhood. Villas and townhouses were available at remarkably low prices and they were situated among an abundance of trees and other greenery. For the newcomers, the proximity to Jerusalem was a plus and they could easily commute there or to Tel Aviv, either to work or for other purposes.
There were problems during the construction stage and even later on, as there was a rash of home burglaries and, as happens nearly everywhere, there was competition between the more affluent Anglos and the older and far poorer veteran residents. In time, relations improved, even as additional sections of Ramat Beit Shemesh were built.
What attracted the English speaking also attracted more native Israelis, notably younger charedi or fervently religiously families who found Jerusalem housing too expensive. There was a new influx, abetted I believe by the familiar tendency to overbuild whenever there is a housing boom, the inevitable consequence being lower prices and efforts to market the real estate to new cohorts of potential buyers. The ensuing religious diversity meant new competition and tension. There were different schools for the several subgroups and also other forms of separation. But if there was little social interaction, there was also little conflict.
This began to change with the arrival of stridently anti-Zionist and militant chassidim who in addition to wanting, even demanding, a higher degree of separation, wanted to impose lifestyle and other changes in Beit Shemesh. Their target was mainly other Orthodox Jews, who are usually identified as Dati-Leumi or religious-nationalists, people of a more modern orientation who are faithful in their religious observance and blessed with a host of admirable qualities, including a strong commitment to Torah study, a modest lifestyle, caring about others and an intense devotion to Israel. Although I do not identify as Dati-Leumi and have reservations about the intense nationalism, I greatly admire these Jews for their sincerity, values and goodness.
There clearly has been an escalation in tension between the Dati-Leumi and some charedim, with the former being on the receiving end of inexcusable behavior. There have been untoward incidents, including the taunting of Dati-Leumi school girls, spitting at them and efforts to disrupt certain events. When minor wrongdoing is not nipped in the bud, usually there is worse to come and it has come in Beit Shemesh in the form of reprehensible incidents on busses. Women have been beaten because they have taken an available seat next to a male chassid and refused to move.
It needs to be acknowledged that the number of perpetrators is small and, according to reports, they are younger people. It is too much, even wrong, to expect rabbis – whether serving in the communities that are involved or prominent outside rabbis – to issue statements condemning each minor act of wrongdoing. Human activity consists of an infinite number of ethical and behavioral lapses. We do not expect public officials to speak out about every minor wrong and it is unreasonable to have a different standard for rabbis.
Where there is violence, there is a higher degree of responsibility and this encompasses but is not limited to the obligation to speak out. Several Beit Shemesh incidents have passed this threshold and this means that rabbinical silence is not acceptable. Rabbi Yakov Horowitz, dean of a Monsey yeshiva and director of an Agudath Israel project, put it well in a column last week in the Jewish Press, a newspaper that has much terrific reporting. He wrote that the recent Beit Shemesh incident when five young charedim beat up a woman on the Beit Shemesh bus and then when police arrived, other charedi men attacked them, represents “a colossal desecration [of G-D’s] name, especially since the criminals who committed this despicable act claim that their violent actions represent Torah values. Nothing could be farther from the truth. They disgrace our holy Torah and bring shame to all of us.”
In a companion piece, a religious woman who was beaten on a bus in Jerusalem asked “the men who go about beating women on buses: Do the bruises and humiliation you afflict on others, and the dishonor you bring to our Torah and our people, increase your ruchnius (spirituality)…or does it diminish it?”
It is painful and yet also good to read these words. We in the religious camp must hear from others and though this will mean additional pain, if respected Torah leaders speak out there is at least the possibility that the message will get across that what a small number have done is unacceptable and must not be excused. If there is silence, there will be more incidents and perhaps worse yet, more people will be driven away from Judaism.
The publications that serve the charedi community and which often for good reason are eager to pounce on wrongdoing in other Jewish quarters have a responsibility to report what has happened in Beit Shemesh. So far, this is a responsibility that has not been properly fulfilled
Friday, November 16, 2007
Sunday, November 04, 2007
RJJ Newsletter - November 2007
Rav Zeidel Epstein ז״ל served for nearly forty years as a Rebbi and Rosh Mesivta at the Yeshiva on Henry Street, teaching a high Gemara class and teaching, as well, by example and through his inspiring words how religious Jews should live ethical lives in accordance with their Torah obligations. When he retired, he and his wife moved to Israel, living in Jerusalem where his mussar or ethical discourses inspired additional generations of yeshiva students. He passed away in his one-hundredth year, shortly before Rosh Hashanah, mourned by talmidim and Torah leaders in Israel and here. A memorial assembly was held at the Edison Mesivta, with Rav Aharon Feldman, the Rosh Yeshiva of Ner Israel in Baltimore, the featured speaker.
In my remarks, I noted the tendency to speak about our revered Torah leaders by referring to their acts of chesed and their scholarly eminence. This tendency distorts, in my judgment, how we should regard these outstanding people. In truth, most of us do acts of chesed, at least from time to time, and some of us excel at times in Talmudic study. What distinguishes those whom we regard with great admiration and respect is the constancy of their behavior, their endless devotion to the Klal and their unceasing commitment to Torah study. I imagine that we could collect nice stories about Rav Zeidel. What was most remarkable about him was the normalcy of his piety and integrity. These qualities were his essence throughout all of his days. There were no peaks, so to speak, for he always lived at a high ethical level.
His warm feelings toward RJJ never abated and, in a fascinating way, they seemed to grow stronger in Israel. He was gratified by the rebuilding of the yeshiva and nourished by visits of former talmidim from the U.S. who continued to regard themselves as his talmidim. He greeted us in his Jerusalem home with the familiar smile, warmth and enthusiasm that were his hallmarks when he taught us in the classroom.
As he expressed in the introductions to his seforim and in other ways, he was grateful for the way the yeshiva treated him and other Judaic faculty members after their retirement. Year after year, he donated approximately twenty percent of his pension to the yeshiva.
Rav Zeidel was particularly gratified by the achievements of the Edison Mesivta. Just four years ago, when we dedicated the new Beth Medrash building, he wrote a letter of praise and encouragement, saying “My heart rejoices as I remember the early days” of his teaching at the yeshiva. He asked in instructions that he left to his family that his tombstone include his service at Yeshiva Rabbeinu Yaakov Yosef.
His love of us is engraved on our hearts and while his passing denotes the loss of our last major link to RJJ’s glorious past on the Lower East Side, he shall continue to inspire us. His memory is already a blessing.
* * *
Day school and yeshiva enrollment statistics are more than a bunch of numbers telling us how many students there are in how many schools and at what grade levels. They are portals into understanding contemporary Jewish life, providing vital information about the religious health of American Jewry and about what is transpiring in different communities. As a notable example, the well advertised problems confronting the Conservative movement are reflected in declining enrollment in Solomon Schechter schools.
I will conduct next year, please G-D, my third day school census, five years after the previous survey. Inevitably, there will be schools with fewer students, either because of demographic changes in the areas they serve or the establishment of competing day schools or some other factor. We will also learn about schools that have closed. About 20% of the schools included in the 2003 census had fewer students than they had in 1998 and about three dozen day schools in operation in 1998 had closed. Overall, of course, there were enrollment gains and that will be the story when the data is collected next year, primarily because of high fertility in the chassidic and yeshiva-world sectors.
The day school world is remarkably vulnerable to shifting terrain and fortunes, notably at the mesivta or boys high school level where parents are nervous about how their sons will navigate the crucial teen years and increasingly prefer small schools that invariably have but one class at each grade level. They want a school that fits their sons’ capabilities and orientation. The ambition – the term is used here in an entirely positive sense – of young Torah scholars to make a mark in the yeshiva world after many years of intensive study has also resulted in the proliferation of smaller mesivtas. As a consequence, some older schools have experienced enrollment declines. Our Edison Mesivta has fewer students than it had at its peak, this despite its strong staff and reputation.
As housing costs make buying a home in Brooklyn or elsewhere in the city and suburban areas beyond the means of many yeshiva-world families and as remaining in Lakewood is a desirable option for former kollel families, there is a strong prospect that Brooklyn yeshivas and Beth Jacobs will suffer enrollment declines. This isn’t inevitable, if only because experience teaches that demographic patterns frequently defy predictions. If decline occurs in these schools, likely it will be a slow process. It is certain that Lakewood schools are experiencing explosive growth. There was a two-thirds enrollment increase between 1998 and 2003 and next year’s census will show that the trend has continued.
What about Staten Island where the Jewish population has grown at a rapid pace, with the number now estimated at nearly 50,000? Our three schools – they are the only ones providing a basic or elementary school level religious education – have about the same number of students they had last year. In fact, enrollment has been steady for a number of years.
As is true primarily of modern and centrist Orthodox day schools, each year our Staten Island schools lose students whose families have made aliya, on the average between a dozen and twenty students per year. Aliya from the U.S. is rising, thanks in part – and perhaps in large measure – to high day school tuition and medical costs. The numbers may not affect in an appreciable way the overall American Jewish population statistics. They clearly have an impact on day school enrollment and this impact is cumulative, by which I mean that over the span of eight or ten years of elementary school enrollment, the numbers are substantial.
In Willowbrook, where the Staten Island Orthodox are mainly concentrated, the religious population is substantially middle-aged, so that there are fewer children of school age. There are younger families, but their number does not offset the impact of an aging population on school enrollment and this is unlikely to change in view of the paucity of available housing. When we consider the two factors just described, stable enrollment in our schools may be regarded as a measure of success and in an important way is. That is, until we take into account the growing number of Jewish families, many with young children, that have moved to Staten Island in recent years. Enrollment stability means that with each passing year, a smaller percentage of Staten Island Jewish children are now receiving a meaningful religious education.
The percentage of Staten Island Jewish children who attend a day school is among the lowest in the country and it is dropping. Sadly, Staten Island is not alone in this regard, as around the United States and especially away from New York and New Jersey relatively few Jewish children are in full-time Jewish schools. Even in the New York area, the picture is far from satisfactory. In Suffolk County, only a bit more than a handful of Jewish children are in any Jewish day school. As for Staten Island, when we consider how many families are ex-Israelis or the children of ex-Israelis, people who have ongoing contact with family members in Israel, speak Hebrew and have a traditional background, it is tragic how few children are enrolled in a day school.
Unfortunately, the socio-economic profile of Jewish Staten Island works against day school education, firstly because unlike nearly all other significant Jewish communities, Staten Island is bereft of the Jewish institutional and organizational infrastructure that to an extent can prop up Jewish life. Even Chabad is no more than a minor presence. Economically, the Staten Island community possesses neither the wealth nor the commitment that are important features of Jewish life elsewhere.
Already, thousands of Jewish children living on Staten Island have been lost and the toll continues to grow, this in a community that is located between Brooklyn and Lakewood, so that there are nearby human and other resources that presumably can be brought to bear to expand religious Jewish educational opportunity in the community. Whatever commitment there is to build new institutions invariably is directed at higher educational levels. Staten Island is now blessed with a number of kollelim and there are also several small mesivtas. As I have underscored over the years, each institution of Torah study is meritorious and thus there is much to welcome in the establishment of these higher level yeshivas. However, the notion that these institutions have a significant or direct impact on what happens at the basic level of Torah chinuch is not supported by experience and certainly not by Staten Island experience.
There is, in short, a desperate need to create new educational arrangements that will reach out to the great number of Russian and Israeli families with young children who can still be part of the Jewish future, if they would be given an appropriate religious education. I have given much thought to the Rabbi Jacob Joseph School establishing one or more schools with an outreach mission and each time that I have considered whether to go forward I have come to the realization that I no longer have the energy or time to undertake such additional responsibilities. In any case, the leadership and creativity must come from within Staten Island. I regard this decision as a personal failure and I cannot say that I am proud.
No one should be proud of the abysmal record of Oorah, the organization that is adept at public relations and fundraising as it promotes the claim that the money it raises goes to assist Jewish public school families that agree to send their children to a yeshiva or day school. Only a small percentage of its income goes toward this purpose. Furthermore, Staten Island is Oorah’s center of activity. Our schools have approximately one-hundred Oorah students this year and this is at least one-quarter and probably considerably more of all the students that Oorah claims to have placed, yet we will not receive anything this year from the organization. This will add enormously to the financial burden on our Staten Island schools.
Oorah’s wrongdoing is the saddest episode in my more than fifty-five years of devotion to Torah chinuch. I hope that one day I will write at greater length about the moral stain attached to this organization. For now, my prayer and hope is that there will be sufficient concern about the Jewish children whose Jewish future is greatly at risk.
In my remarks, I noted the tendency to speak about our revered Torah leaders by referring to their acts of chesed and their scholarly eminence. This tendency distorts, in my judgment, how we should regard these outstanding people. In truth, most of us do acts of chesed, at least from time to time, and some of us excel at times in Talmudic study. What distinguishes those whom we regard with great admiration and respect is the constancy of their behavior, their endless devotion to the Klal and their unceasing commitment to Torah study. I imagine that we could collect nice stories about Rav Zeidel. What was most remarkable about him was the normalcy of his piety and integrity. These qualities were his essence throughout all of his days. There were no peaks, so to speak, for he always lived at a high ethical level.
His warm feelings toward RJJ never abated and, in a fascinating way, they seemed to grow stronger in Israel. He was gratified by the rebuilding of the yeshiva and nourished by visits of former talmidim from the U.S. who continued to regard themselves as his talmidim. He greeted us in his Jerusalem home with the familiar smile, warmth and enthusiasm that were his hallmarks when he taught us in the classroom.
As he expressed in the introductions to his seforim and in other ways, he was grateful for the way the yeshiva treated him and other Judaic faculty members after their retirement. Year after year, he donated approximately twenty percent of his pension to the yeshiva.
Rav Zeidel was particularly gratified by the achievements of the Edison Mesivta. Just four years ago, when we dedicated the new Beth Medrash building, he wrote a letter of praise and encouragement, saying “My heart rejoices as I remember the early days” of his teaching at the yeshiva. He asked in instructions that he left to his family that his tombstone include his service at Yeshiva Rabbeinu Yaakov Yosef.
His love of us is engraved on our hearts and while his passing denotes the loss of our last major link to RJJ’s glorious past on the Lower East Side, he shall continue to inspire us. His memory is already a blessing.
* * *
Day school and yeshiva enrollment statistics are more than a bunch of numbers telling us how many students there are in how many schools and at what grade levels. They are portals into understanding contemporary Jewish life, providing vital information about the religious health of American Jewry and about what is transpiring in different communities. As a notable example, the well advertised problems confronting the Conservative movement are reflected in declining enrollment in Solomon Schechter schools.
I will conduct next year, please G-D, my third day school census, five years after the previous survey. Inevitably, there will be schools with fewer students, either because of demographic changes in the areas they serve or the establishment of competing day schools or some other factor. We will also learn about schools that have closed. About 20% of the schools included in the 2003 census had fewer students than they had in 1998 and about three dozen day schools in operation in 1998 had closed. Overall, of course, there were enrollment gains and that will be the story when the data is collected next year, primarily because of high fertility in the chassidic and yeshiva-world sectors.
The day school world is remarkably vulnerable to shifting terrain and fortunes, notably at the mesivta or boys high school level where parents are nervous about how their sons will navigate the crucial teen years and increasingly prefer small schools that invariably have but one class at each grade level. They want a school that fits their sons’ capabilities and orientation. The ambition – the term is used here in an entirely positive sense – of young Torah scholars to make a mark in the yeshiva world after many years of intensive study has also resulted in the proliferation of smaller mesivtas. As a consequence, some older schools have experienced enrollment declines. Our Edison Mesivta has fewer students than it had at its peak, this despite its strong staff and reputation.
As housing costs make buying a home in Brooklyn or elsewhere in the city and suburban areas beyond the means of many yeshiva-world families and as remaining in Lakewood is a desirable option for former kollel families, there is a strong prospect that Brooklyn yeshivas and Beth Jacobs will suffer enrollment declines. This isn’t inevitable, if only because experience teaches that demographic patterns frequently defy predictions. If decline occurs in these schools, likely it will be a slow process. It is certain that Lakewood schools are experiencing explosive growth. There was a two-thirds enrollment increase between 1998 and 2003 and next year’s census will show that the trend has continued.
What about Staten Island where the Jewish population has grown at a rapid pace, with the number now estimated at nearly 50,000? Our three schools – they are the only ones providing a basic or elementary school level religious education – have about the same number of students they had last year. In fact, enrollment has been steady for a number of years.
As is true primarily of modern and centrist Orthodox day schools, each year our Staten Island schools lose students whose families have made aliya, on the average between a dozen and twenty students per year. Aliya from the U.S. is rising, thanks in part – and perhaps in large measure – to high day school tuition and medical costs. The numbers may not affect in an appreciable way the overall American Jewish population statistics. They clearly have an impact on day school enrollment and this impact is cumulative, by which I mean that over the span of eight or ten years of elementary school enrollment, the numbers are substantial.
In Willowbrook, where the Staten Island Orthodox are mainly concentrated, the religious population is substantially middle-aged, so that there are fewer children of school age. There are younger families, but their number does not offset the impact of an aging population on school enrollment and this is unlikely to change in view of the paucity of available housing. When we consider the two factors just described, stable enrollment in our schools may be regarded as a measure of success and in an important way is. That is, until we take into account the growing number of Jewish families, many with young children, that have moved to Staten Island in recent years. Enrollment stability means that with each passing year, a smaller percentage of Staten Island Jewish children are now receiving a meaningful religious education.
The percentage of Staten Island Jewish children who attend a day school is among the lowest in the country and it is dropping. Sadly, Staten Island is not alone in this regard, as around the United States and especially away from New York and New Jersey relatively few Jewish children are in full-time Jewish schools. Even in the New York area, the picture is far from satisfactory. In Suffolk County, only a bit more than a handful of Jewish children are in any Jewish day school. As for Staten Island, when we consider how many families are ex-Israelis or the children of ex-Israelis, people who have ongoing contact with family members in Israel, speak Hebrew and have a traditional background, it is tragic how few children are enrolled in a day school.
Unfortunately, the socio-economic profile of Jewish Staten Island works against day school education, firstly because unlike nearly all other significant Jewish communities, Staten Island is bereft of the Jewish institutional and organizational infrastructure that to an extent can prop up Jewish life. Even Chabad is no more than a minor presence. Economically, the Staten Island community possesses neither the wealth nor the commitment that are important features of Jewish life elsewhere.
Already, thousands of Jewish children living on Staten Island have been lost and the toll continues to grow, this in a community that is located between Brooklyn and Lakewood, so that there are nearby human and other resources that presumably can be brought to bear to expand religious Jewish educational opportunity in the community. Whatever commitment there is to build new institutions invariably is directed at higher educational levels. Staten Island is now blessed with a number of kollelim and there are also several small mesivtas. As I have underscored over the years, each institution of Torah study is meritorious and thus there is much to welcome in the establishment of these higher level yeshivas. However, the notion that these institutions have a significant or direct impact on what happens at the basic level of Torah chinuch is not supported by experience and certainly not by Staten Island experience.
There is, in short, a desperate need to create new educational arrangements that will reach out to the great number of Russian and Israeli families with young children who can still be part of the Jewish future, if they would be given an appropriate religious education. I have given much thought to the Rabbi Jacob Joseph School establishing one or more schools with an outreach mission and each time that I have considered whether to go forward I have come to the realization that I no longer have the energy or time to undertake such additional responsibilities. In any case, the leadership and creativity must come from within Staten Island. I regard this decision as a personal failure and I cannot say that I am proud.
No one should be proud of the abysmal record of Oorah, the organization that is adept at public relations and fundraising as it promotes the claim that the money it raises goes to assist Jewish public school families that agree to send their children to a yeshiva or day school. Only a small percentage of its income goes toward this purpose. Furthermore, Staten Island is Oorah’s center of activity. Our schools have approximately one-hundred Oorah students this year and this is at least one-quarter and probably considerably more of all the students that Oorah claims to have placed, yet we will not receive anything this year from the organization. This will add enormously to the financial burden on our Staten Island schools.
Oorah’s wrongdoing is the saddest episode in my more than fifty-five years of devotion to Torah chinuch. I hope that one day I will write at greater length about the moral stain attached to this organization. For now, my prayer and hope is that there will be sufficient concern about the Jewish children whose Jewish future is greatly at risk.
Monday, October 29, 2007
The Times Does It Again
Mazal tov! Syrian Jews have made it in America, thanks to a Sunday Times magazine article by Zev Chafets, another of the newspaper’s pseudo-experts on American Jewish life, and no less than in an issue devoted to money and wealth in New York City. Though talented, Mr. Chafets is lazy, apparently taking at face value what is fed to him by informants, without determining whether the information given to him is credible or accurate.
He is notably vulnerable to misinformation about statistics. The opening sentence on Syrian Jews reports that in Brooklyn, this community “is 75,000 strong and growing fast.” This is way off the mark, as he would have determined had he examined day school enrollment – nearly all Syrian children attend a Jewish day school – or analyzed census tract data. There is a familiar syndrome of ethnics exaggerating their number, at times by a great deal. Mr. Chafets should learn to take with a grain of salt some of the claims presented to him.
That didn’t happen in his previous article for the magazine on Lev Leviev, the billionaire Bukharian Jewish businessman and philanthropist who among a multitude of good deeds established the Gymnasia, a tuition-free Jewish school in Queens that primarily serves Bukharians. He wrote that Mr. Leviev provides the school with $18,000 per year per student, which is approximately three times the true figure. In the Syrian Jewish article we read that “an SY [Syrian Jew] in good standing can expect free K-12 parochial education and summer camps for the kids,” which is absurd and certainly news to the thousands of parents who are charged substantial fees for these services. Mr. Chafets took down what he was told and fed the information to Times readers who doubtlessly regard the misinformation as accurate because, after all, the Times would never publish something that is false.
I wonder why Syrian Jews were selected for inclusion in a theme issue devoted to money and wealth. No other ethnic group is given attention, although there is obviously enormous wealth in other ethnic quarters. Did the magazine’s editors decide that they could not publish a money issue without an article on Jews? Or was the topic Chafets’s idea? Whatever the explanation, the newspaper that we have come to love and hate – both for good reasons – demonstrated once more that it is afflicted with a serious case of Jew-phobia.
Whether the Syrian Jews are all that wealthy is an interesting question that is scarcely explored in the article which opens with a full-page aeriel photo of a nondescript neighborhood. If Syrian wealth is to be judged by housing, the inescapable conclusion is that they are upper middle class but far from wealthy. The article includes four small snapshots of private homes, two of them quite modest. In dozens of communities in the New York metropolitan area, there are thousands of homes that comfortably outstrip in luxuriousness and elegance what Syrian Jews have in Brooklyn. For reference, see Sotheby’s display ad in the same issue.
Syrian Jewish wealth is no more than a secondary concern for Chafets. The main story is the community’s strong opposition to intermarriage. As in the Noah Feldman piece that is still fresh in our memory, Orthodox Jews come out badly. Chafets rambles on about “the Edict,” it being the official communal decree proscribing marrying out. Eleven paragraphs – several of them zaftig – are devoted to the tale of a lawyer who violated this norm.
It may be that the Times or the editors of the magazine are on a pro-intermarriage crusade. Chafets has married out, which isn’t disclosed in the article. I do not believe that an intermarried Jew cannot write about the phenomenon with the requisite sociological or reportorial detachment. However, when intermarriage is not the normal outcome of background and upbringing but a transformative experience for the writer – something that has engendered inner turmoil – it is questionable whether he or she can deal with the subject in a fair manner. Feldman was writing about his own experience and he is entitled to do so. Chafets is writing about other people and his career includes fascinating zigzags, one of which was serving in the Israeli government as a top advisor to Menachem Begin.
It is a fair question whether Chafets’ personal transformation transformed an article on Syrian Jewish wealth into an article on Syrian Jewish attitudes toward intermarriage.
In the article’s final section, Chafets dredges up stories of misdeeds by perhaps as many as three Syrian Jews, most notably the antics a generation ago of Eddie Antar who is strangely identified as “for many years the most famous SY in the world.” Did Antar scream out, “I am Crazy Eddie, a Syrian Jew?” What was Frank Purdue’s ethnicity? Or Tom Carvel’s? Antar operated a small chain of appliance stores, committed fraud and went to prison. Now, many years later and because Chafets was writing an article about Syrian Jews, he went to his files or Googles and dishes out the irrelevant dirt. We also read of another retailer who sold his business on the verge of bankruptcy and of a New Jersey Syrian Jew who has been charged with serious wrongdoing.
The Times would not permit the inclusion of such material in an analytical article about another ethnic group. I am sure of this. What gives the newspaper the license to allow Chafets to descend into the foul zone of bigoted journalism? Is it because Jews and especially religious Jews are always an acceptable target?
There is no answer. We have come to accept the Times as it is. The newspaper and the Sulzburgers are, for sure, the most venerated names in biased journalism.
He is notably vulnerable to misinformation about statistics. The opening sentence on Syrian Jews reports that in Brooklyn, this community “is 75,000 strong and growing fast.” This is way off the mark, as he would have determined had he examined day school enrollment – nearly all Syrian children attend a Jewish day school – or analyzed census tract data. There is a familiar syndrome of ethnics exaggerating their number, at times by a great deal. Mr. Chafets should learn to take with a grain of salt some of the claims presented to him.
That didn’t happen in his previous article for the magazine on Lev Leviev, the billionaire Bukharian Jewish businessman and philanthropist who among a multitude of good deeds established the Gymnasia, a tuition-free Jewish school in Queens that primarily serves Bukharians. He wrote that Mr. Leviev provides the school with $18,000 per year per student, which is approximately three times the true figure. In the Syrian Jewish article we read that “an SY [Syrian Jew] in good standing can expect free K-12 parochial education and summer camps for the kids,” which is absurd and certainly news to the thousands of parents who are charged substantial fees for these services. Mr. Chafets took down what he was told and fed the information to Times readers who doubtlessly regard the misinformation as accurate because, after all, the Times would never publish something that is false.
I wonder why Syrian Jews were selected for inclusion in a theme issue devoted to money and wealth. No other ethnic group is given attention, although there is obviously enormous wealth in other ethnic quarters. Did the magazine’s editors decide that they could not publish a money issue without an article on Jews? Or was the topic Chafets’s idea? Whatever the explanation, the newspaper that we have come to love and hate – both for good reasons – demonstrated once more that it is afflicted with a serious case of Jew-phobia.
Whether the Syrian Jews are all that wealthy is an interesting question that is scarcely explored in the article which opens with a full-page aeriel photo of a nondescript neighborhood. If Syrian wealth is to be judged by housing, the inescapable conclusion is that they are upper middle class but far from wealthy. The article includes four small snapshots of private homes, two of them quite modest. In dozens of communities in the New York metropolitan area, there are thousands of homes that comfortably outstrip in luxuriousness and elegance what Syrian Jews have in Brooklyn. For reference, see Sotheby’s display ad in the same issue.
Syrian Jewish wealth is no more than a secondary concern for Chafets. The main story is the community’s strong opposition to intermarriage. As in the Noah Feldman piece that is still fresh in our memory, Orthodox Jews come out badly. Chafets rambles on about “the Edict,” it being the official communal decree proscribing marrying out. Eleven paragraphs – several of them zaftig – are devoted to the tale of a lawyer who violated this norm.
It may be that the Times or the editors of the magazine are on a pro-intermarriage crusade. Chafets has married out, which isn’t disclosed in the article. I do not believe that an intermarried Jew cannot write about the phenomenon with the requisite sociological or reportorial detachment. However, when intermarriage is not the normal outcome of background and upbringing but a transformative experience for the writer – something that has engendered inner turmoil – it is questionable whether he or she can deal with the subject in a fair manner. Feldman was writing about his own experience and he is entitled to do so. Chafets is writing about other people and his career includes fascinating zigzags, one of which was serving in the Israeli government as a top advisor to Menachem Begin.
It is a fair question whether Chafets’ personal transformation transformed an article on Syrian Jewish wealth into an article on Syrian Jewish attitudes toward intermarriage.
In the article’s final section, Chafets dredges up stories of misdeeds by perhaps as many as three Syrian Jews, most notably the antics a generation ago of Eddie Antar who is strangely identified as “for many years the most famous SY in the world.” Did Antar scream out, “I am Crazy Eddie, a Syrian Jew?” What was Frank Purdue’s ethnicity? Or Tom Carvel’s? Antar operated a small chain of appliance stores, committed fraud and went to prison. Now, many years later and because Chafets was writing an article about Syrian Jews, he went to his files or Googles and dishes out the irrelevant dirt. We also read of another retailer who sold his business on the verge of bankruptcy and of a New Jersey Syrian Jew who has been charged with serious wrongdoing.
The Times would not permit the inclusion of such material in an analytical article about another ethnic group. I am sure of this. What gives the newspaper the license to allow Chafets to descend into the foul zone of bigoted journalism? Is it because Jews and especially religious Jews are always an acceptable target?
There is no answer. We have come to accept the Times as it is. The newspaper and the Sulzburgers are, for sure, the most venerated names in biased journalism.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Jewish Philanthropy
Philanthropy is the allocation of charity funds for communal purposes. It seems to be an easy task, even fun, a rich man’s avocation that we should all aspire to. What could be better than doling out money to grateful recipients who, in turn, anoint the donor a humanitarian and a person of great wisdom? There is at once power and glory in the activity. Don’t we all want to be philanthropists?
Maybe, although those who engage in this work will likely say that it isn’t easy and it often isn’t fun. Choices must be made in a crowded field of beseechers who are ready to proclaim that, if supported, their project will accomplish wonders. The late Jack D. Weiler, a good friend who for decades was in the top echelon of Jewish philanthropists and a respected community leader, told me more than once that at times he hated his charitable work because nearly without stop there were those who were trying to separate him from his money and he no longer knew who his friends were.
Before we sink into a morose morass and excessively bemoan the fate of the very rich who have foundations or other repositories of charitable funds at their disposal, it should be acknowledged that philanthropy can be easy and nearly a sure bet, as when funds go to construct a facility and the completion of the project is the fulfillment of the philanthropic goal. It also can be fun, as when scads of money go towards the popular philanthropic pastime of sponsoring a conference.
Where it is difficult is when a gift is intended to affect behavior, to improve a social condition that is in serious need of improvement. An example is support of school-based educational initiatives where the usual goal is to improve results, whether measured by test scores, graduation rates or what students do after they graduate. Grants are made because the status quo is unsatisfactory, perhaps even dysfunctional. But the status quo is not an ad hoc arrangement but a condition or syndrome that has taken root and is being reinforced by dynamic elements that have created the problem that is being addressed. Good intentions backed up by money invariably have limited efficacy, so that if there is improvement it is marginal and limited. A reasonable yardstick for measuring success must be established, taking into account the tenacity of the social pathology being addressed. This is a subjective exercise and almost always the recipients of the philanthropic funding earnestly claim that they have succeeded and deserve renewed – and perhaps increased – support.
Jewish philanthropy is much like all other philanthropy, with significant emphasis on capital campaigns and other safe initiatives. To be sure, what is safe may be worthwhile, as when major donors provide for the construction of day school facilities. There is also considerable risk-taking, as when funding goes to initiatives that purport to raise the level of Jewish commitment and involvement in an environment that is hostile toward this goal. Then, there is apt to be disappointment, as is evident from a midsummer interview with Michael Steinhardt in which he bemoaned what he assessed to be the poor track record of his private foundation. Characteristically, Michael was being too tough, this time on himself. He has significant achievements, Birthright perhaps the most important. Still, his introspection hopefully will trigger greater communal scrutiny of what is being accomplished through philanthropy.
Jewish philanthropy is severely tested by two circumstances, one quantitative and parochial and the other qualitative and general. Our robust organizational and institutional life breeds a huge number of causes seeking philanthropic support. Some of this arises from our geographic dispersal and denominational and other divisions. At least as much results from our being a hyperactive people blessed with enormous vitality and creativity. We are all over the place and we swarm all over those who have charitable funds to distribute. It seems at times that there are more Jewish causes than there are Jews.
What to support comes down to the preferences of the donors and a large dose of serendipity, of being in the right place at the right time. There is too little cooperation among major funders, a condition that Mr. Steinhardt has done his best to rectify, and this results in an excess of duplicatory initiatives.
The qualitative issues arise from the weakened condition of American Jewry at its points of contact with American society. Much of our philanthropy is now directed at efforts to promote greater Judaic identity among the vast majority of Jews who have moved significantly in the direction away from identity. The harsh realities of American life constantly impel these Jews even further away from commitment and involvement. Demographic statistics tell the sad story of who is prevailing in this encounter. In a sense, what we are experiencing in the desperate efforts to affect attitudes and behavior mirrors what I have described regarding the educational initiatives designed to counteract social pathologies. The difference between the two situations is that the odds are less favorable for satisfactory outcomes in Jewish life than they are in the educational domain.
I suspect that when Michael Steinhardt speaks of failure and disappointment, this is what he has in mind. Some of the blame for failure rests upon his broad shoulders because he constantly spreads the gospel that Jewish philanthropy can best be directed at those who are further away from Judaism rather than at those who are already involved but who may be lost. What he and others fail to see is that whether in day school education or other spheres of communal activity, what seems to be solid needs to be constantly reinforced and this reinforcement will strengthen those at the margins. Unless this basic truth is understood and implemented, our philanthropists will continue to experience disappointment and failure.
Maybe, although those who engage in this work will likely say that it isn’t easy and it often isn’t fun. Choices must be made in a crowded field of beseechers who are ready to proclaim that, if supported, their project will accomplish wonders. The late Jack D. Weiler, a good friend who for decades was in the top echelon of Jewish philanthropists and a respected community leader, told me more than once that at times he hated his charitable work because nearly without stop there were those who were trying to separate him from his money and he no longer knew who his friends were.
Before we sink into a morose morass and excessively bemoan the fate of the very rich who have foundations or other repositories of charitable funds at their disposal, it should be acknowledged that philanthropy can be easy and nearly a sure bet, as when funds go to construct a facility and the completion of the project is the fulfillment of the philanthropic goal. It also can be fun, as when scads of money go towards the popular philanthropic pastime of sponsoring a conference.
Where it is difficult is when a gift is intended to affect behavior, to improve a social condition that is in serious need of improvement. An example is support of school-based educational initiatives where the usual goal is to improve results, whether measured by test scores, graduation rates or what students do after they graduate. Grants are made because the status quo is unsatisfactory, perhaps even dysfunctional. But the status quo is not an ad hoc arrangement but a condition or syndrome that has taken root and is being reinforced by dynamic elements that have created the problem that is being addressed. Good intentions backed up by money invariably have limited efficacy, so that if there is improvement it is marginal and limited. A reasonable yardstick for measuring success must be established, taking into account the tenacity of the social pathology being addressed. This is a subjective exercise and almost always the recipients of the philanthropic funding earnestly claim that they have succeeded and deserve renewed – and perhaps increased – support.
Jewish philanthropy is much like all other philanthropy, with significant emphasis on capital campaigns and other safe initiatives. To be sure, what is safe may be worthwhile, as when major donors provide for the construction of day school facilities. There is also considerable risk-taking, as when funding goes to initiatives that purport to raise the level of Jewish commitment and involvement in an environment that is hostile toward this goal. Then, there is apt to be disappointment, as is evident from a midsummer interview with Michael Steinhardt in which he bemoaned what he assessed to be the poor track record of his private foundation. Characteristically, Michael was being too tough, this time on himself. He has significant achievements, Birthright perhaps the most important. Still, his introspection hopefully will trigger greater communal scrutiny of what is being accomplished through philanthropy.
Jewish philanthropy is severely tested by two circumstances, one quantitative and parochial and the other qualitative and general. Our robust organizational and institutional life breeds a huge number of causes seeking philanthropic support. Some of this arises from our geographic dispersal and denominational and other divisions. At least as much results from our being a hyperactive people blessed with enormous vitality and creativity. We are all over the place and we swarm all over those who have charitable funds to distribute. It seems at times that there are more Jewish causes than there are Jews.
What to support comes down to the preferences of the donors and a large dose of serendipity, of being in the right place at the right time. There is too little cooperation among major funders, a condition that Mr. Steinhardt has done his best to rectify, and this results in an excess of duplicatory initiatives.
The qualitative issues arise from the weakened condition of American Jewry at its points of contact with American society. Much of our philanthropy is now directed at efforts to promote greater Judaic identity among the vast majority of Jews who have moved significantly in the direction away from identity. The harsh realities of American life constantly impel these Jews even further away from commitment and involvement. Demographic statistics tell the sad story of who is prevailing in this encounter. In a sense, what we are experiencing in the desperate efforts to affect attitudes and behavior mirrors what I have described regarding the educational initiatives designed to counteract social pathologies. The difference between the two situations is that the odds are less favorable for satisfactory outcomes in Jewish life than they are in the educational domain.
I suspect that when Michael Steinhardt speaks of failure and disappointment, this is what he has in mind. Some of the blame for failure rests upon his broad shoulders because he constantly spreads the gospel that Jewish philanthropy can best be directed at those who are further away from Judaism rather than at those who are already involved but who may be lost. What he and others fail to see is that whether in day school education or other spheres of communal activity, what seems to be solid needs to be constantly reinforced and this reinforcement will strengthen those at the margins. Unless this basic truth is understood and implemented, our philanthropists will continue to experience disappointment and failure.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
There’s Little Left to Conserve
The closing of the Solomon Schechter high school in Bergen County a bit more than a year after the only such school in New York City closed down is a powerful illustration of the woeful and declining state of the Conservative movement. Coming shortly before Arnold Eisen is installed as Chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary, the development may be regarded as his baptism under fire, a term that perhaps should be avoided in view of the Conservative abandonment of tradition and ritual.
There isn’t much prospect that the movement can recover, although Mr. Eisen is being welcomed as a savior and a man of much vision and energy. He will doubtfully have success as a fundraiser and in getting attention. But Conservatism is hemorrhaging members, as well as confidence, and it is confused. Last week, the Forward published (in the newspaper and on-line) a group of uninspired and essentially meaningless responses to the question, “How should Conservative Jews steer their ship into the future?” No one answered, first fix the leaks.
There is, for sure, no quick fix or even a slow fix. This diagnosis is the implicit message conveyed by Jack Wertheimer, until recently JTS’s Provost and a leading scholar of American Jewry, in the September issue of Commentary. The article is a small masterpiece, a must read.
The Bergen County story is a compound of diverse elements, including the failure of local rabbinic and lay Conservative leaders, a failure that parallels what is found in too many communities as synagogue rabbis do too little to promote day school education, in part because they see it as competition to their congregational schools and fundraising efforts. They put contributions to day schools near the bottom of the list of causes worth supporting. Those who made the decision to close the high school days before the start of the school year acted irresponsibly and foolishly. I am certain that they are in pain and it is cruel to add to their suffering, so I will limit my comments to the observation that they contributed enormously to the hardship felt by students and their families and also faculty and staff.
Around the country, possibly about one-third of the remaining sixty or so Solomon Schechters are in serious trouble and some are barely hanging in there. There is scant evidence that Conservative leaders appreciate how vital these institutions are to the movement. One explanation for this bizarre attitude is that at its highest levels, Conservatism operates as a collection of separate baronies, a dysfunctional arrangement that Mr. Eisen needs to challenge early on when his leverage will be at a maximum. Later on, he is apt to be weighed down by what many Conservatives consider to be the most serious issue, namely not how to retain and strengthen the traditional wing but how to retain and thereby weaken itself Jewishly the droves who are heading out of the door toward Reform or non-affiliation.
Mr. Eisen will have plenty on his plate at JTS. I continue to believe that it would have been preferable to follow the Reform formula of dividing responsibility between the movement’s seminary head and its overall leader. Whatever one might think of the Yoffie-Ellinson arrangement, they make an effective team.
But rearranging the chairs on the deck of the movement’s Titanic will not be sufficient. Against all odds, Conservatives will have to decide that it is their obligation to conserve. Translated into policy, this means not yielding to political correctness or to the large majority of members who in practice and belief are little different from the Reform. For far too long, Conservative members – and I specifically include synagogue-goers – have understood that whatever rhetoric may be employed at the top or by congregational rabbis, in practice nearly all of our traditions and religious laws are negotiable.
After all that has been abandoned, prospects for a change of direction are negligible. We will now hear a message of renewal, of greater fidelity to mitzvos and a greater commitment to religious study. It is hard to see how any of this will be translated into the lives of most Conservative families. Certainly, the early signs are not encouraging. Probably because he wanted to dispose of the issue before he took office, Mr. Eisen rushed through a fundamental change in the movement’s stand on gay ordination. If what is popular is the way to go, patrilineality and a changed attitude toward conversion will be next. In this regard, the current student body at JTS provides strong indication that the movement is likely to move further away from halacha. Indeed, what still passes as the Conservative’s West Coast seminary is headed even more strongly in that direction, as is the movement’s rank and file.
When I have written in the past about the tzoros that have enveloped Conservatism and advocated a greater commitment to Solomon Schechter schools, some of my fellow Orthodox have questioned why I should care about the decline of a movement that purposely decided to abandon so much of what we are obligated to do as religious Jews. The attitude seems to be, nearly all Conservative Jews are lost or will be lost and that is the way it should be because the Conservatives have not been faithful to our heritage.
My answer is that we must care about what happens to these Jews because we do not want to lose them and that at least the traditional wing of the movement can be reached out to and should be reached out to. It is of note that to an important extent, the Orthodox tshuva movement depends on pockets of Conservative vitality. It is not accidental that as the Conservative movement has gone into a tailspin, there has been a parallel decline in the fortunes and outcomes of Orthodox outreach.
There isn’t much prospect that the movement can recover, although Mr. Eisen is being welcomed as a savior and a man of much vision and energy. He will doubtfully have success as a fundraiser and in getting attention. But Conservatism is hemorrhaging members, as well as confidence, and it is confused. Last week, the Forward published (in the newspaper and on-line) a group of uninspired and essentially meaningless responses to the question, “How should Conservative Jews steer their ship into the future?” No one answered, first fix the leaks.
There is, for sure, no quick fix or even a slow fix. This diagnosis is the implicit message conveyed by Jack Wertheimer, until recently JTS’s Provost and a leading scholar of American Jewry, in the September issue of Commentary. The article is a small masterpiece, a must read.
The Bergen County story is a compound of diverse elements, including the failure of local rabbinic and lay Conservative leaders, a failure that parallels what is found in too many communities as synagogue rabbis do too little to promote day school education, in part because they see it as competition to their congregational schools and fundraising efforts. They put contributions to day schools near the bottom of the list of causes worth supporting. Those who made the decision to close the high school days before the start of the school year acted irresponsibly and foolishly. I am certain that they are in pain and it is cruel to add to their suffering, so I will limit my comments to the observation that they contributed enormously to the hardship felt by students and their families and also faculty and staff.
Around the country, possibly about one-third of the remaining sixty or so Solomon Schechters are in serious trouble and some are barely hanging in there. There is scant evidence that Conservative leaders appreciate how vital these institutions are to the movement. One explanation for this bizarre attitude is that at its highest levels, Conservatism operates as a collection of separate baronies, a dysfunctional arrangement that Mr. Eisen needs to challenge early on when his leverage will be at a maximum. Later on, he is apt to be weighed down by what many Conservatives consider to be the most serious issue, namely not how to retain and strengthen the traditional wing but how to retain and thereby weaken itself Jewishly the droves who are heading out of the door toward Reform or non-affiliation.
Mr. Eisen will have plenty on his plate at JTS. I continue to believe that it would have been preferable to follow the Reform formula of dividing responsibility between the movement’s seminary head and its overall leader. Whatever one might think of the Yoffie-Ellinson arrangement, they make an effective team.
But rearranging the chairs on the deck of the movement’s Titanic will not be sufficient. Against all odds, Conservatives will have to decide that it is their obligation to conserve. Translated into policy, this means not yielding to political correctness or to the large majority of members who in practice and belief are little different from the Reform. For far too long, Conservative members – and I specifically include synagogue-goers – have understood that whatever rhetoric may be employed at the top or by congregational rabbis, in practice nearly all of our traditions and religious laws are negotiable.
After all that has been abandoned, prospects for a change of direction are negligible. We will now hear a message of renewal, of greater fidelity to mitzvos and a greater commitment to religious study. It is hard to see how any of this will be translated into the lives of most Conservative families. Certainly, the early signs are not encouraging. Probably because he wanted to dispose of the issue before he took office, Mr. Eisen rushed through a fundamental change in the movement’s stand on gay ordination. If what is popular is the way to go, patrilineality and a changed attitude toward conversion will be next. In this regard, the current student body at JTS provides strong indication that the movement is likely to move further away from halacha. Indeed, what still passes as the Conservative’s West Coast seminary is headed even more strongly in that direction, as is the movement’s rank and file.
When I have written in the past about the tzoros that have enveloped Conservatism and advocated a greater commitment to Solomon Schechter schools, some of my fellow Orthodox have questioned why I should care about the decline of a movement that purposely decided to abandon so much of what we are obligated to do as religious Jews. The attitude seems to be, nearly all Conservative Jews are lost or will be lost and that is the way it should be because the Conservatives have not been faithful to our heritage.
My answer is that we must care about what happens to these Jews because we do not want to lose them and that at least the traditional wing of the movement can be reached out to and should be reached out to. It is of note that to an important extent, the Orthodox tshuva movement depends on pockets of Conservative vitality. It is not accidental that as the Conservative movement has gone into a tailspin, there has been a parallel decline in the fortunes and outcomes of Orthodox outreach.
Monday, September 10, 2007
RJJ Newsletter - September 2007
Yeshivas and day schools are communal institutions, the primary instrumentality for fulfilling the Biblical obligation to teach children Torah and for providing that they remain committed Jews as adults. Without students, a yeshiva or day school is a name with a facility that exists without existing. Children transform a facility into a living reality. In a yeshiva, children also transform the facility into a sanctified place. As the Talmud teaches, the world continues to exist because of the breath of young children who are studying Torah.
A school is never a learning environment for just one child. It is comprised of a number of children, at times many. Yet, each child remains distinctive with his/her name, emotional DNA, intellectual DNA and a set of background features, including home and parents, as well as upbringing. Each child brings to the classroom his/her interests and abilities and, invariably, limitations. Each child is a complex being and a classroom is the coming together for a common educational experience of a number of complex beings. The great challenge of education is how to perform the common educational function that is geared to a collectivity of children without losing sight of the distinctiveness of each child. The obligation to fulfill both the communal role and the responsibility to each child is not a homiletical exercise. It is or should be a reality in each school and each classroom. What is required is considerable skill and the determination by the teacher to teach an entire class and to teach each student. For yeshivas, this difficult challenge is magnified because of the dual curriculum and, too often, because of the paucity of resources which restricts or eliminates entirely the ability of the school to give gifted children the extra that they need or special attention to the weaker students. The deficit is reduced but not eliminated entirely by the devotion of faculty.
The achievements of our schools are real and impressive. The evidence is everywhere, in thousands of homes and in the great number of graduates who live Torah lives as productive people in American society. Still, there are disappointments, even failures, and they arise from the distinctiveness of each child. Even when the education being offered is first-rate and accompanied by much caring, there are children who do not succeed either educationally or Jewishly or both.
Disappointment or failure may not be evident until after the basic K-12 school years have concluded. More often, there are issues that arise while the child is in school. There are students whose academic performance or behavior raises questions about the appropriateness of remaining in the school or classroom, as their poor performance or behavior may affect the performance or behavior of other students. There is the collateral issue of whether to accept applicants about whom there are doubts regarding prospective educational performance or behavior.
In the one-third of a century of these bi-monthly newsletters and in other writings, I have discussed time and time again my strongly held view that in admission and retention decisions and, more broadly, in the approach to students who do not readily fit in, our schools are too hasty in rejecting or punishing students. Too often our schools do not admit or expel or leave back or punish students on what I regard as insufficient grounds. Their justification for these harsh actions is that they protect the institution and other students. We hear too often the self-serving mantra that expulsion or other forms of rejection are for the good of the students who are being expelled or denied admission or punished. I have no illusions that further advocacy will result in greater acceptance of my view. The contrary outcome is the more likely. But the effort must be made because the spiritual lives of children are at stake.
If only because the klal or the community is greater than the prat or the individual, what a school requires has priority over the requirements of individual students. As an illustration, it is imperative that the curriculum be designed to serve an entire class and not one or two students. It may be necessary or wise to find ways to meet the needs of one or two students, but never at the expense of the entire group. When the need or behavior of a child undermines the communal enterprise of educating a class, it is a legitimate question whether he/she should remain in the class. It must be underscored that the determination that a child has a negative impact cannot rely on speculation or on what might occur down the road. The problem must be overt, real and serious and not a potential or a minor matter. If we rely on speculation, the mind is capable of endless conjecture, of treating as a reality that which is no more than a fantasy. It is insufficient and wrongful to harm a student because a teacher or principal decides that by remaining in the classroom the child will cause harm, even if as yet no harm has been caused.
When student matters are at stake, Torah education rarely proceeds with reference to the Shulchan Aruch or any halachic perspective. The guidelines are provided by educational or psychological theories that pay little or no heed to the special responsibilities of our schools. Students are to be left back or expelled or disciplined or denied admission, too often irrespective of the Judaic damage being done to the students. Principals who ask their Rabbi or Rosh Yeshiva for guidance on even trivial matters seem comfortable to take upon themselves the heavy responsibility of deciding the religious fate of a child. Rav Moshe Feinstein was asked halachic questions on matters large and small from dawn until well into the night. He often said, indeed complained, that he was infrequently asked about chinuch matters.
We have courses for Judaic faculty and training programs galore for principals. The training programs for principals are substantially bereft of a religious sensibility. Some of what is being taught through these initiatives is useful. Overall, the trend is to train principals to be good managers and not good spiritual guides. In one critical way, the theories that are being taught are alien to our religious perspective. Education inherently focuses on the learning process, on the acquisition of knowledge and skills. There are tests, evaluations of classroom performance, writing assignments and homework and all of these are designed to assess how well the student is doing as a student. The portion of the report card that deals with behavior is of less than secondary importance. This is appropriate for educational experiences that are nearly exclusively learning oriented, with a measure of student socialization thrown into the mix. Yeshivas and day schools also have the vital function of religious socialization, the goal being to ensure that the student will be a practicing and committed Jew in adulthood.
This key responsibility must be balanced against educational performance and even behavior in two distinct ways. Firstly, if the student is doing poorly academically but behaving properly and adhering to religious standards and growing in Judaism, with the possible exception of boys mesivtas or high schools, there is an obligation to retain the student. Educational performance is important and efforts must be made to bring about improvement, yet this consideration must yield to the more transcendent concern that the child continue to grow in Judaism. Secondly, if the student is doing poorly in school and is less than an angel in behavior but not directly harming other students, when retention or promotion decisions are made it is necessary to calculate the Judaic harm if the student is not readmitted or left back.
In short, the strong presumption must be that a student is to remain in the school. This presumption should be accompanied by heavy dosages of patience, a quality that may require that we ignore or downplay certain lapses in student behavior. We know that in kiruv activity, patience is rewarded or, to express the thought differently, without patience there is no kiruv. In a similar vein, without patience a child may be turned away from Judaism. In my experience, which includes the experience of family members who teach, patience with students is almost always rewarded. It must be given in a caring and not begrudging fashion. When a principal says to a student, “I am giving you one more chance and if there is even the slightest problem you will be out the door,” that is not patience. It is richuk kerovim, for the words are likely to harm the student.
As I have noted, my advocacy on behalf of students and their families has been to little avail, doubtlessly because the advocate is not of the spiritual stature that would lend force to his words. There is another factor and it is that what is wrong in the yeshiva world has taken deep root. We are facing the intransigence of people in authority in our schools who are rigidly observant yet who have become too cold – and at times cruel – as they are convinced that harshness is a necessary ingredient in Torah chinuch. There are schools and principals that go against this tendency, but far too many succumb to what is now a cultural imperative in much of Orthodox life to show that a school is first-rate when it is able to point to the number of applicants that it has rejected and the number of students who have not been retained.
I wonder whether it would help to invoke the authority of the Chazon Ish, one of the transcendent Torah leaders of the past century. It is well known that he declared that the expulsion of a student is a question of spiritual life and therefore the decision must be made by a Beth Din of 23. We know that most of our principals are determined that questions of admission and expulsion be made by them alone.
The letters of the Chazon Ish are a remarkable lesson plan for those in chinuch and they constitute a far more important, far more Jewish and far more spiritual source than the conventional material utilized in most training programs. I have arranged for the translation of many of the Chazon Ish’s published letters. He had no children, nor did he have in any formal sense any students. In the words of Rav Aharon Kotler’s hesped, “He was not a Rav or the head of a yeshiva or a teacher.” Nonetheless, he was intensely and intimately involved in Torah chinuch in Eretz Yisrael for nearly twenty years, from the time of his arrival from Lithuania in the mid-1930s until his death in 1953.
This was a harsh period for advanced yeshivas and religious schools for younger children. The number of students was low and powerful social forces were impelling older students away from Torah study and even observance. The Chazon Ish served as the spiritual guide to many teachers and students. What explodes in these letters was his love for the students and his deepfelt concern for their spiritual and physical wellbeing. He was always direct in the advice that he gave; at times he seemed to be stern. But he always counseled patience and his words conveyed enormous empathy. They demonstrate that concern for yeshivas and concern for individual students are not antithetical. They are integrated dimensions in the obligation to teach Torah. There is evidence that his counsel and intervention resulted in abundant fruit in the growth of yeshivas and in the spiritual rescue of children.
The following excerpts from a handful of letters should convey the points that I am trying to make. The first concerns the role of Torah education:
We were the People of the Book, the people who sought eternal life, the people who knew the Master of the Universe, the people who knew their purpose and obligation in life, who knew to dismiss carnal pleasures, the people who loved Torah and mitzvos, the people who strove for perfection of character. But we have become mixed among the other nations and we have learned from their behavior. We must return our youth to the Jewish way, to help them find the great treasure we have lost. Our primary duty is to educate the next generation and to return their hearts to their father in Heaven.
After hearing about the financial crisis faced by the Beth Jacob School for Girls:
Considering that everything on earth was created male and female, that the universe cannot reach perfection without the perfection of both of them, and that the Torah way of life cannot be assured among young men and women unless it is assured among both – but it is unnecessary to dwell at length upon the obvious and well-known. However, it is for this that I have made an effort to join you in carrying the burden, and I am here enclosing Y lirot to help you in covering the debts of the Bais Yaakov.
To the administration of a yeshiva regarding a certain student:
Though the boy has not shaken off his childishness and childish laziness, and a lack of seriousness follows him wherever he goes, he has no trace of active wickedness, chas veshalom.
He is willing to hear reproof and constructive criticism about striving in Torah and yira, but his receptivity is not yet a permanent fixture, and he needs such comments frequently.
You cannot be strict with him, but must appeal to him with soft words.
If he does not know the shiur properly, it is only because he is negligent, not because the concepts are too deep. But putting him back into a younger class will not achieve our goal; rather it risks breaking his spirit.
I earnestly request that you work on him with love to attract him to serious study and solid yira, with double reward from Hashem.
Two letters regarding students wavering in their religiosity:
A certain student at Yeshiva X has been accepted by Yeshiva Y which has asked for a letter of recommendation. His name is Z and he is a baal kishron, a smart, talented and pleasant person. But he is disturbed by his yetzer (as smart, talented people tend to be), which demands much of him. As a result, he needs constant alert attention.
Such boys in particular are likely to have a future of gratifying greatness. Therefore, let the administration know his good side in advance, so they accept him, and then perhaps it will be a good idea to tell them of the above.
And,
In your yeshiva, you have a young student X, who is very quick and deep-thinking and could become great. But the known difficulties of the times and the great obscurity of truth in our dark exile affects such boys particularly, diverting them into the hands of strangers and foreign ideas, but a good education effectively enlightens them and helps them grow into great luminaries.
On a practical level, I think it best that he learn under Y, who will know how to work with his personality and attract him to Torah. As for remuneration, I may be able to contribute towards it.
On counseling patience:
It was hard for me to hear that you have no patience to deal with people’s needs, and that this has caused individuals to leave the yeshiva, all the more considering how many have already left, for other known reasons. I think it would be better to let things go, to have patience and to appeal to the bachurim in every possible way, for the whole purpose of a yeshiva is to give intelligence to simpletons and to give understanding to those who are lost.
There is no room to blame the wilder students, for people are born undisciplined. Rather, we must make every possible effort, at any cost, to keep the students enrolled. Sometimes, we must push away with the right hand and embrace with the left, and sometimes we must invite them with both hands.
A student who required special attention:
Nowadays, rescuing a child by giving him a Jewish education is understandably no less than saving him from drowning in a river. Considering the child’s age, it should be possible to develop and advance him in a short time to the level of a regular student, but this requires special methods and attention. You might arrange for people to learn with him for half an hour in the morning, in the afternoon and more. This could be done by the older talmidim at the yeshiva.
I hope for their sake that they have the privilege to perform this mitzvah of rescuing a Jewish soul.
A remarkable letter about a student who was denied admission:
A certain student named Y from Yeshiva X in Yerushalayim came to see me last Friday. He was bitter and unhappy because for family reasons he left Yerushalayim and applied to your holy yeshiva, but the administration told him that they could not accept him. He has no place to go, and I found myself in a position of having no answer to give him. The only true answer was that I have no way of helping him, for he was given his rejection by the administration, and outsiders who do not know the reasons for accepting and rejecting have no place interfering in the matter. But such an answer is just what is meant by, “Is that how one answers a bitter person?” Therefore, I was forced to tell him that I would do something for him, though I did not promise him concrete assistance. I am fulfilling my promise with this letter, but considering that this talmid’s situation troubles me greatly, especially in our times when those applying to yeshivas are fewer than one per city and two per family, if you have anything to tell him that I would like to hear, please do not deprive me of the good news.
As the great Rosh Yeshiva of Lakewood said in the concluding words of his hesped of the Chazon Ish, may we “be privileged to follow in his path and cleave to his ways.”
A school is never a learning environment for just one child. It is comprised of a number of children, at times many. Yet, each child remains distinctive with his/her name, emotional DNA, intellectual DNA and a set of background features, including home and parents, as well as upbringing. Each child brings to the classroom his/her interests and abilities and, invariably, limitations. Each child is a complex being and a classroom is the coming together for a common educational experience of a number of complex beings. The great challenge of education is how to perform the common educational function that is geared to a collectivity of children without losing sight of the distinctiveness of each child. The obligation to fulfill both the communal role and the responsibility to each child is not a homiletical exercise. It is or should be a reality in each school and each classroom. What is required is considerable skill and the determination by the teacher to teach an entire class and to teach each student. For yeshivas, this difficult challenge is magnified because of the dual curriculum and, too often, because of the paucity of resources which restricts or eliminates entirely the ability of the school to give gifted children the extra that they need or special attention to the weaker students. The deficit is reduced but not eliminated entirely by the devotion of faculty.
The achievements of our schools are real and impressive. The evidence is everywhere, in thousands of homes and in the great number of graduates who live Torah lives as productive people in American society. Still, there are disappointments, even failures, and they arise from the distinctiveness of each child. Even when the education being offered is first-rate and accompanied by much caring, there are children who do not succeed either educationally or Jewishly or both.
Disappointment or failure may not be evident until after the basic K-12 school years have concluded. More often, there are issues that arise while the child is in school. There are students whose academic performance or behavior raises questions about the appropriateness of remaining in the school or classroom, as their poor performance or behavior may affect the performance or behavior of other students. There is the collateral issue of whether to accept applicants about whom there are doubts regarding prospective educational performance or behavior.
In the one-third of a century of these bi-monthly newsletters and in other writings, I have discussed time and time again my strongly held view that in admission and retention decisions and, more broadly, in the approach to students who do not readily fit in, our schools are too hasty in rejecting or punishing students. Too often our schools do not admit or expel or leave back or punish students on what I regard as insufficient grounds. Their justification for these harsh actions is that they protect the institution and other students. We hear too often the self-serving mantra that expulsion or other forms of rejection are for the good of the students who are being expelled or denied admission or punished. I have no illusions that further advocacy will result in greater acceptance of my view. The contrary outcome is the more likely. But the effort must be made because the spiritual lives of children are at stake.
If only because the klal or the community is greater than the prat or the individual, what a school requires has priority over the requirements of individual students. As an illustration, it is imperative that the curriculum be designed to serve an entire class and not one or two students. It may be necessary or wise to find ways to meet the needs of one or two students, but never at the expense of the entire group. When the need or behavior of a child undermines the communal enterprise of educating a class, it is a legitimate question whether he/she should remain in the class. It must be underscored that the determination that a child has a negative impact cannot rely on speculation or on what might occur down the road. The problem must be overt, real and serious and not a potential or a minor matter. If we rely on speculation, the mind is capable of endless conjecture, of treating as a reality that which is no more than a fantasy. It is insufficient and wrongful to harm a student because a teacher or principal decides that by remaining in the classroom the child will cause harm, even if as yet no harm has been caused.
When student matters are at stake, Torah education rarely proceeds with reference to the Shulchan Aruch or any halachic perspective. The guidelines are provided by educational or psychological theories that pay little or no heed to the special responsibilities of our schools. Students are to be left back or expelled or disciplined or denied admission, too often irrespective of the Judaic damage being done to the students. Principals who ask their Rabbi or Rosh Yeshiva for guidance on even trivial matters seem comfortable to take upon themselves the heavy responsibility of deciding the religious fate of a child. Rav Moshe Feinstein was asked halachic questions on matters large and small from dawn until well into the night. He often said, indeed complained, that he was infrequently asked about chinuch matters.
We have courses for Judaic faculty and training programs galore for principals. The training programs for principals are substantially bereft of a religious sensibility. Some of what is being taught through these initiatives is useful. Overall, the trend is to train principals to be good managers and not good spiritual guides. In one critical way, the theories that are being taught are alien to our religious perspective. Education inherently focuses on the learning process, on the acquisition of knowledge and skills. There are tests, evaluations of classroom performance, writing assignments and homework and all of these are designed to assess how well the student is doing as a student. The portion of the report card that deals with behavior is of less than secondary importance. This is appropriate for educational experiences that are nearly exclusively learning oriented, with a measure of student socialization thrown into the mix. Yeshivas and day schools also have the vital function of religious socialization, the goal being to ensure that the student will be a practicing and committed Jew in adulthood.
This key responsibility must be balanced against educational performance and even behavior in two distinct ways. Firstly, if the student is doing poorly academically but behaving properly and adhering to religious standards and growing in Judaism, with the possible exception of boys mesivtas or high schools, there is an obligation to retain the student. Educational performance is important and efforts must be made to bring about improvement, yet this consideration must yield to the more transcendent concern that the child continue to grow in Judaism. Secondly, if the student is doing poorly in school and is less than an angel in behavior but not directly harming other students, when retention or promotion decisions are made it is necessary to calculate the Judaic harm if the student is not readmitted or left back.
In short, the strong presumption must be that a student is to remain in the school. This presumption should be accompanied by heavy dosages of patience, a quality that may require that we ignore or downplay certain lapses in student behavior. We know that in kiruv activity, patience is rewarded or, to express the thought differently, without patience there is no kiruv. In a similar vein, without patience a child may be turned away from Judaism. In my experience, which includes the experience of family members who teach, patience with students is almost always rewarded. It must be given in a caring and not begrudging fashion. When a principal says to a student, “I am giving you one more chance and if there is even the slightest problem you will be out the door,” that is not patience. It is richuk kerovim, for the words are likely to harm the student.
As I have noted, my advocacy on behalf of students and their families has been to little avail, doubtlessly because the advocate is not of the spiritual stature that would lend force to his words. There is another factor and it is that what is wrong in the yeshiva world has taken deep root. We are facing the intransigence of people in authority in our schools who are rigidly observant yet who have become too cold – and at times cruel – as they are convinced that harshness is a necessary ingredient in Torah chinuch. There are schools and principals that go against this tendency, but far too many succumb to what is now a cultural imperative in much of Orthodox life to show that a school is first-rate when it is able to point to the number of applicants that it has rejected and the number of students who have not been retained.
I wonder whether it would help to invoke the authority of the Chazon Ish, one of the transcendent Torah leaders of the past century. It is well known that he declared that the expulsion of a student is a question of spiritual life and therefore the decision must be made by a Beth Din of 23. We know that most of our principals are determined that questions of admission and expulsion be made by them alone.
The letters of the Chazon Ish are a remarkable lesson plan for those in chinuch and they constitute a far more important, far more Jewish and far more spiritual source than the conventional material utilized in most training programs. I have arranged for the translation of many of the Chazon Ish’s published letters. He had no children, nor did he have in any formal sense any students. In the words of Rav Aharon Kotler’s hesped, “He was not a Rav or the head of a yeshiva or a teacher.” Nonetheless, he was intensely and intimately involved in Torah chinuch in Eretz Yisrael for nearly twenty years, from the time of his arrival from Lithuania in the mid-1930s until his death in 1953.
This was a harsh period for advanced yeshivas and religious schools for younger children. The number of students was low and powerful social forces were impelling older students away from Torah study and even observance. The Chazon Ish served as the spiritual guide to many teachers and students. What explodes in these letters was his love for the students and his deepfelt concern for their spiritual and physical wellbeing. He was always direct in the advice that he gave; at times he seemed to be stern. But he always counseled patience and his words conveyed enormous empathy. They demonstrate that concern for yeshivas and concern for individual students are not antithetical. They are integrated dimensions in the obligation to teach Torah. There is evidence that his counsel and intervention resulted in abundant fruit in the growth of yeshivas and in the spiritual rescue of children.
The following excerpts from a handful of letters should convey the points that I am trying to make. The first concerns the role of Torah education:
We were the People of the Book, the people who sought eternal life, the people who knew the Master of the Universe, the people who knew their purpose and obligation in life, who knew to dismiss carnal pleasures, the people who loved Torah and mitzvos, the people who strove for perfection of character. But we have become mixed among the other nations and we have learned from their behavior. We must return our youth to the Jewish way, to help them find the great treasure we have lost. Our primary duty is to educate the next generation and to return their hearts to their father in Heaven.
After hearing about the financial crisis faced by the Beth Jacob School for Girls:
Considering that everything on earth was created male and female, that the universe cannot reach perfection without the perfection of both of them, and that the Torah way of life cannot be assured among young men and women unless it is assured among both – but it is unnecessary to dwell at length upon the obvious and well-known. However, it is for this that I have made an effort to join you in carrying the burden, and I am here enclosing Y lirot to help you in covering the debts of the Bais Yaakov.
To the administration of a yeshiva regarding a certain student:
Though the boy has not shaken off his childishness and childish laziness, and a lack of seriousness follows him wherever he goes, he has no trace of active wickedness, chas veshalom.
He is willing to hear reproof and constructive criticism about striving in Torah and yira, but his receptivity is not yet a permanent fixture, and he needs such comments frequently.
You cannot be strict with him, but must appeal to him with soft words.
If he does not know the shiur properly, it is only because he is negligent, not because the concepts are too deep. But putting him back into a younger class will not achieve our goal; rather it risks breaking his spirit.
I earnestly request that you work on him with love to attract him to serious study and solid yira, with double reward from Hashem.
Two letters regarding students wavering in their religiosity:
A certain student at Yeshiva X has been accepted by Yeshiva Y which has asked for a letter of recommendation. His name is Z and he is a baal kishron, a smart, talented and pleasant person. But he is disturbed by his yetzer (as smart, talented people tend to be), which demands much of him. As a result, he needs constant alert attention.
Such boys in particular are likely to have a future of gratifying greatness. Therefore, let the administration know his good side in advance, so they accept him, and then perhaps it will be a good idea to tell them of the above.
And,
In your yeshiva, you have a young student X, who is very quick and deep-thinking and could become great. But the known difficulties of the times and the great obscurity of truth in our dark exile affects such boys particularly, diverting them into the hands of strangers and foreign ideas, but a good education effectively enlightens them and helps them grow into great luminaries.
On a practical level, I think it best that he learn under Y, who will know how to work with his personality and attract him to Torah. As for remuneration, I may be able to contribute towards it.
On counseling patience:
It was hard for me to hear that you have no patience to deal with people’s needs, and that this has caused individuals to leave the yeshiva, all the more considering how many have already left, for other known reasons. I think it would be better to let things go, to have patience and to appeal to the bachurim in every possible way, for the whole purpose of a yeshiva is to give intelligence to simpletons and to give understanding to those who are lost.
There is no room to blame the wilder students, for people are born undisciplined. Rather, we must make every possible effort, at any cost, to keep the students enrolled. Sometimes, we must push away with the right hand and embrace with the left, and sometimes we must invite them with both hands.
A student who required special attention:
Nowadays, rescuing a child by giving him a Jewish education is understandably no less than saving him from drowning in a river. Considering the child’s age, it should be possible to develop and advance him in a short time to the level of a regular student, but this requires special methods and attention. You might arrange for people to learn with him for half an hour in the morning, in the afternoon and more. This could be done by the older talmidim at the yeshiva.
I hope for their sake that they have the privilege to perform this mitzvah of rescuing a Jewish soul.
A remarkable letter about a student who was denied admission:
A certain student named Y from Yeshiva X in Yerushalayim came to see me last Friday. He was bitter and unhappy because for family reasons he left Yerushalayim and applied to your holy yeshiva, but the administration told him that they could not accept him. He has no place to go, and I found myself in a position of having no answer to give him. The only true answer was that I have no way of helping him, for he was given his rejection by the administration, and outsiders who do not know the reasons for accepting and rejecting have no place interfering in the matter. But such an answer is just what is meant by, “Is that how one answers a bitter person?” Therefore, I was forced to tell him that I would do something for him, though I did not promise him concrete assistance. I am fulfilling my promise with this letter, but considering that this talmid’s situation troubles me greatly, especially in our times when those applying to yeshivas are fewer than one per city and two per family, if you have anything to tell him that I would like to hear, please do not deprive me of the good news.
As the great Rosh Yeshiva of Lakewood said in the concluding words of his hesped of the Chazon Ish, may we “be privileged to follow in his path and cleave to his ways.”
Friday, September 07, 2007
The Futurists
The future is very much present in the present of Jewish life. During the summer, I attended the Conference on the Future of the Jewish People in Jerusalem, sponsored by the Jewish People Planning Policy Institute, an impressive think tank established by the Jewish Agency. During the same period, I contributed to a symposium on the future of Orthodox education in North America. We are awash in conferences, meetings, papers, etc., dealing with this or that problem area in Jewish life and implicit or explicit in this activity is the goal of projecting or improving the Jewish future. The pessimistic demographic data on Jewish life in the U.S. and elsewhere in the diaspora has created the imperative to better understand what is happening and to figure out how the Jewish future can improve on today’s reality.
One obvious problem is that we are not prophets, a good thing in view of the Talmudic observation that since the destruction of the Temple prophecy has been given over to fools. The more immediate difficulty is that inescapably we are in the present, in our thoughts and activity and in our attitudes and commitments. As much as we may want to be creative or visionary – that is, to offer and improve on what is – what we want for the future is predicated on what we now see and feel.
This is why any conference of futurists begets wildly diverse wish-lists and why upon quick examination, there is a high correlation between what people prefer for today and what they prefer for generations yet unborn. Religious Jews want a world that is more religious while secularists want the role of religion to be diminished, if not obliterated entirely.
We are people who have been around for a very long while and who have truckloads of traditions, obligations and memories. It should be axiomatic that the Jewish future needs to be organically linked to the Jewish past, with the present serving as a connection point between what was and what will be. There is a Conference on the Jewish Future only because there was a Jewish past. This fundamental truth escapes or is deliberately cast aside by a great many Jews, especially in the diaspora, including persons in leadership positions.
During the summer, as well, I read a lengthy working paper called “Redesigning Jewish Education for the 21st Century,” the first fruit of the newly-established Lippman Kanfer Institute, a think tank on Jewish education located at Jewish Educational Services of North America. JESNA has been touted as American Jewry’s main educational agency, although its services are scarcely known to nearly all who toil on behalf of day schools.
Think tanks are the new darling of the Jewish philanthropic world, a development that demonstrates once more our proclivity to regard organization-establishment as a vital activity. It also coincides with mounting and continuing Jewish loss. Each day when the sun sets we likely have fewer Jews than there were when the sun rose, yet we take comfort in having more organizations. If Lippman Kanfer’s working paper is a guide, the intellectual state of American Jewry has suffered a further decline. The paper is an embarrassment. Cliches abound and they are accompanied by proposals that will have no impact on American Jewish education. This is a paper that literally is dead on arrival.
It is a puzzlement how experienced people who have some accomplishments under their belt could have produced a total dud. Some of the explanation may be found in the introduction where we are told that “for many weeks the paper lived on a wiki – a web-based tool for collaborative writing and editing.” Thanks to technology, we have now advanced significantly beyond the many cooks spoiling the broth stage of intellectual confusion. May I respectfully suggest that our think tanks outlaw wiki-ing. Inevitably, the process leads to a mishmash of ideas that are going nowhere.
Another clue to what went wrong is provided in the first word in the report’s title – “Redesigning.” The aim was not simply to improve Jewish education but to make it over. Brief homage is paid to what exists, yet the thrust is to create a future in Jewish education that is profoundly different from what we now have. The final page of the text consists of a brief quote from Alan Kay, a luminary whose achievements I confess to be unaware of, who imparts the following bogus wisdom: “The best way to predict the future is to invent it.” This is nice-sounding nonsense. It is also fundamentally anti-Jewish, for our people have a past, as do our educational enterprises. This is a past that we ought to be proud of and build on.
Relying on the vapidness of much of their Jewish present, our futurists want their abandonment of the Jewish past to become our community’s norm. They cannot incorporate into their fantasies the glorious heritage that has kept the Jewish people alive, despite our small numbers and despite alternating severe losses resulting from persecution and advanced assimilation. Our future must be redefined and much of our past discarded.
If we are still here to discuss our future, it is because there are those who have been faithful to the past. Our futurists will continue to conference and write papers. The great expansion of Jewish wealth assures that our philanthropists will fund new think tanks. Heaven knows how many there already are. The result of all of this babel will be additional calls to invent the future.
This is the bad news. The good news is that for all of the money and exertion invested in these initiatives, the future of the Jewish people will not be decided by them. The eternity of the Jewish people will not be denied. We exist today because we are faithful to our past and it is this past that ensures our future.
One obvious problem is that we are not prophets, a good thing in view of the Talmudic observation that since the destruction of the Temple prophecy has been given over to fools. The more immediate difficulty is that inescapably we are in the present, in our thoughts and activity and in our attitudes and commitments. As much as we may want to be creative or visionary – that is, to offer and improve on what is – what we want for the future is predicated on what we now see and feel.
This is why any conference of futurists begets wildly diverse wish-lists and why upon quick examination, there is a high correlation between what people prefer for today and what they prefer for generations yet unborn. Religious Jews want a world that is more religious while secularists want the role of religion to be diminished, if not obliterated entirely.
We are people who have been around for a very long while and who have truckloads of traditions, obligations and memories. It should be axiomatic that the Jewish future needs to be organically linked to the Jewish past, with the present serving as a connection point between what was and what will be. There is a Conference on the Jewish Future only because there was a Jewish past. This fundamental truth escapes or is deliberately cast aside by a great many Jews, especially in the diaspora, including persons in leadership positions.
During the summer, as well, I read a lengthy working paper called “Redesigning Jewish Education for the 21st Century,” the first fruit of the newly-established Lippman Kanfer Institute, a think tank on Jewish education located at Jewish Educational Services of North America. JESNA has been touted as American Jewry’s main educational agency, although its services are scarcely known to nearly all who toil on behalf of day schools.
Think tanks are the new darling of the Jewish philanthropic world, a development that demonstrates once more our proclivity to regard organization-establishment as a vital activity. It also coincides with mounting and continuing Jewish loss. Each day when the sun sets we likely have fewer Jews than there were when the sun rose, yet we take comfort in having more organizations. If Lippman Kanfer’s working paper is a guide, the intellectual state of American Jewry has suffered a further decline. The paper is an embarrassment. Cliches abound and they are accompanied by proposals that will have no impact on American Jewish education. This is a paper that literally is dead on arrival.
It is a puzzlement how experienced people who have some accomplishments under their belt could have produced a total dud. Some of the explanation may be found in the introduction where we are told that “for many weeks the paper lived on a wiki – a web-based tool for collaborative writing and editing.” Thanks to technology, we have now advanced significantly beyond the many cooks spoiling the broth stage of intellectual confusion. May I respectfully suggest that our think tanks outlaw wiki-ing. Inevitably, the process leads to a mishmash of ideas that are going nowhere.
Another clue to what went wrong is provided in the first word in the report’s title – “Redesigning.” The aim was not simply to improve Jewish education but to make it over. Brief homage is paid to what exists, yet the thrust is to create a future in Jewish education that is profoundly different from what we now have. The final page of the text consists of a brief quote from Alan Kay, a luminary whose achievements I confess to be unaware of, who imparts the following bogus wisdom: “The best way to predict the future is to invent it.” This is nice-sounding nonsense. It is also fundamentally anti-Jewish, for our people have a past, as do our educational enterprises. This is a past that we ought to be proud of and build on.
Relying on the vapidness of much of their Jewish present, our futurists want their abandonment of the Jewish past to become our community’s norm. They cannot incorporate into their fantasies the glorious heritage that has kept the Jewish people alive, despite our small numbers and despite alternating severe losses resulting from persecution and advanced assimilation. Our future must be redefined and much of our past discarded.
If we are still here to discuss our future, it is because there are those who have been faithful to the past. Our futurists will continue to conference and write papers. The great expansion of Jewish wealth assures that our philanthropists will fund new think tanks. Heaven knows how many there already are. The result of all of this babel will be additional calls to invent the future.
This is the bad news. The good news is that for all of the money and exertion invested in these initiatives, the future of the Jewish people will not be decided by them. The eternity of the Jewish people will not be denied. We exist today because we are faithful to our past and it is this past that ensures our future.
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