Making Do Without Chief Rabbis

For the last several months Israel has been with neither an Ashkenazi or Sephardi Chief Rabbi and, lo and behold, the sky has not fallen. Religious life as we’ve known it for the last century has not suddenly come to a grinding halt. Couples are still getting married in accordance with Jewish law, divorces are being arranged, the dead are being appropriately buried, and supervisors are continuing to ensure the kashruth of restaurants and food processing plants. More likely than not, few are those who are even aware that there are currently no chief rabbis, which, from all indications, has generated little if any concern. The time has come, perhaps, for a bit of reconsideration about the existing paradigm.

Jewish communities in many nations – and in some cases cities with large Jewish populations – appoint or elect chief rabbis who are responsible for overseeing all activities related to the laws, customs and traditions of Judaism. Significantly, there is neither a scriptural nor Talmudic requirement for this position. More than a few Jewish historians believe that the position was created in Europe during the Middle Ages for the purpose of acting as an administrative liaison between the government and the Jewish community, and was tasked with such duties as compiling statistics and collecting taxes. Nonetheless, the Chief Rabbinate can be regarded as the continuation of an ancient Jewish practice to confer, centrally, religious authority over a country or region – for example, kings, high priests, exilarches and gaons.

It wasn’t until 1921 that the Jews who resided in Mandatory Palestine were provided with the services of a Chief Rabbi, a position that has never been vacant in the last 103 years. Here in the Holy Land, the position was modeled on similar ones that were established throughout Europe. Indeed, in addition to being a pioneer on behalf of religious Zionism, Rabbi Kook, the first Chief Rabbi of Palestine, was the central authority on Judaism that the British government relied on.

Let’s for a moment set aside the political differences that resulted in the current quagmire. If anything, that such petty bickering is even taking place is more than indicative that the existing system is in dire need of an overhaul.

More significantly, perhaps, is that it is quite impossible to overlook the sad fact that the office of the chief rabbi has not been without serious controversies over the last several years. Charges of nepotism, confirmed acts of corruption, and blacklisted rabbis are just some of the problem spots that the public has had to bear and that both of Israel’s chief rabbis have had to wade through. And not always successfully.

Does Israel, therefore, truly need a chief rabbi and a central rabbinate? Perhaps not, particularly when the former incumbent had the effrontery to advise the haredim to leave the country rather than be drafted into the Israeli army. Something is truly amiss.

The United States –  with the largest and most diverse Jewish population outside of Israel – does not have a chief rabbi, nor is there a centralized rabbinate. Instead, there are within cities or locales with sizeable Jewish population centers decentralized va’adot harabanim (rabbinical councils) responsible for the administration of religious matters and issues – kashruth, marriage and divorce, death and burial, etc. – with the head of the council (“Chief Rabbi” in essence) rotating every so often. Since this model has worked rather effectively for the last century and half or so, perhaps Israel should consider adapting it locally as a replacement for the system currently in place, which has few fans and very little to cheer about.

I won’t deny that the absence of coast-to-coast standards throughout the United States can be troubling, particularly in the matter of kashruth. But then again, most commercial products used by the kosher-observant community receive certification from nationally-recognized independent organizations, with the local va’ad harabanim ensuring the kashruth of neighborhood restaurants, bakeries, confectionaries, etc. As for all other matters, well, I’m sure there are no appreciable differences in the operations of the Jewish Burial Society in Seattle, Washington than the one in Wilmington, Delaware.

A decentralized rabbinate could work equally well in Israel. Granted, there will undoubtedly be a bit of gerrymandering when defining the specific districts in which a controlling rabbinate would be established, but the advantages make the effort more than worthwhile. Political nitpicking would be appreciably reduced if not eliminated, and localized characteristics could be given more focused attention when religious-related policies and practices are being decided.

Moreover, the tricky issue of multi-cultural rites and traditions are also nicely solved by this model. The composition of each specific council can properly reflect the population it represents, thereby respecting rather than assimilating existing traditions and mores. There exists haredi bigotry against the Sephardim, particularly in the area of education and shidduchim (matchmaking). High time that this comes to an end.

There are those, I’m sure, who would argue that this idea would widen rather than narrow the social rift that currently runs through Israel. To that I answer: Nonsense. Israel was never intended to be a melting pot; the differences in the structure of liturgy, kashruth standards, and holiday observance is what makes us special. Decentralizing rabbinical precedent and authority would, if anything, recognize the diversity that enabled us to survive inquisitions, pogroms and holocausts.

Conversion, of course, is the one cloud that darkens this silver lining. Some thinking will be needed to prevent applicants for conversion from jumping from one localized rabbinate to another, in the hopes of landing on a more lenient square. There’s no question that the existing situation, with conversion the sole authority of the rabbinate, can be unduly harsh, but allowing a varied list of standards and requirements endangers Jewish continuity. Though by no means a deal-breaker, the issue of centralized conversion standards and practices will most certainly need to be addressed.

As we approach the one-year mark since the Gazan massacre (in both the Gregorian and Hebrew calendars), a bit of chesbon nefesh (self-accounting) is called for. The office of the chief rabbi has not brought to either the religious or secular population of Israel any appreciable comfort or solace. The purpose for which it was created no longer exists. A better, more relevant model is sorely needed.