The new New Jew

Well, I’m not the world’s most messianic guy, but something of Biblical proportions is afoot. This awful year in Israel, has introduced a new lexicon Eschatological words like תקומה , דור הגאולה, חבלי משיח, are hard to translate and harder still to grasp. The self-sacrifice of so many for the good of the whole has triggered throughout the country a strange sense of belonging, a common goal and destiny. Despite weak elected leaders and political rifts, somehow, regular men and women answered a call, at great personal cost, to rise and serve a greater good. While this development has highlighted the heroism of our soldiers, our youth, and our citizens, it equally accentuates those who, by choice or by circumstance, stand by the wayside.

Recently, a Haredi patient came to see me, in my clinic in an ultra-Orthodox neighborhood, complaining of her worsening abdominal pain, wondering whether anxiety may be a factor. “It has been a very stressful year, after all”. I nod, politely wondering what words will come next. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to make three weddings in one year!” I smile wanly, thinking of the endless funerals and shiva tents of the past year. I am none too proud, though I doubt alone, in the resentment and anger that wells up when confronted by the communal self-interest, cowardice and disconnection evident in much of the ultra-Orthodox community.  Of course, finger pointing and hatred are counterproductive, and I try, though not always successfully, to distinguish between the individual and the community, choosing to see the person before me as a תינוק שנשבה, a captive child, a product of a closed culture, distrustful and wary of the world beyond its walls. This status was broadly applied by the Chazon Ish (R AY Karelitz, 1878-1953), widely recognized as the founder of modern Haredi Judaism in Israel, to allow Orthodox Jews to interact with non-observant Jews, by viewing them as errant victims, rather than sinning heretics (see for example Chazon Ish  Y”D 2:28). Viewing the Haredi community as somehow misguided, sadly locked in a pre-Holocaust , pre Independece  shtetl of their great-grandparents may allow a bit more understanding, if not acceptance, than my more reflexive response. The irony of applying the law of a captive child to Haredi Jews in Israel, is not lost on me, though neither is the irony that the Jewish State and Modern Zionism were built by nonobservant Jews, with the majority of “religious” Jews, the last to come to the table, often kicking and screaming.

Which brings me to world Orthodox Jewry. Connected Jewish communities around the world, as much as in Israel, were shocked by October 7 and the revelation that the existence of the State of Israel is no ways guaranteed. This led to an admirable outpouring of giving and concern from the Diaspora, while the citizens of Israel went to war. While the support team is also an integral part of a war effort, another realization began to arise in more attuned people, a sentiment sensed if not voiced by many in the US. Despite their well-wishing, American Jews were spectators not participants in the very terrible though very great events of the following year. The war has revealed to many, especially to US olim, the religious and cultural divide, moving to Israel could and should be. American Orthodoxy, is just that, a commendable attempt to maintain and pass on Jewish halachic tradition. Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, who can be credited with the survival and reemergence of Orthodox Judaism on the post-World War II shores of the United States, was a towering figure, both intellectually and spiritually and whose imprint is deeply felt in venerable Orthodox institutions, like Yeshiva University and the OU. He was, though, for the most part, a preservationist, passing on the traditions of his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, all great Lithuanian Talmudists, reintroducing the Eastern European house of study to a fading US Orthodoxy. While “the Rav”, as Rabbi Soloveitchik was known to his students and their subsequent disciples, spoke much of the past, of a chain of tradition, and reverence of the Oral Law, he spoke surprisingly little of the future. This is in sharp contradistinction to another great luminary of the 20th century, Rav AY Kook, known affectionately, as well, as ”haRav”, throughout religious Zionist yeshivot. While Rav Kook respected and drew from the past, he spoke more of the future, of dreams and aspirations for individuals, for the Jewish People and for the world. Speaking to fellow, US modern Orthodox expatriates, I have found a common sentiment. Somehow the model which we grew up in seemed increasingly dusty, stationary, particularistic and somewhat irrelevant to the sacred task of building a Jewish society in Israel.

Whereas traditional Jewish leaders were always, understandably, wary of the Zionist vision of a bold, new Jew, men who would become “the first Hebrews rather than the last Jews”, Rav Kook drew inspiration from secular thinkers, like Herzl, Ahad Ha’am, Brenner and Berdichevsky. All, in fact, agreed that the Zionist dream, be it religious or secular, was not simply an escape from persecution, but about building a better society, in the case of Rav Kook a society infused with Godliness and a beacon of light to the world. Statehood was a hard fought, landmark moment in the process, and, it seems, I moved my family to a modern, polished Israel, where we could comfortably enjoy these fruits of others’ labors. As the news headlines of the preceding years make clear, there are still many cracks in the walls and foundations of the construction that Rav Kook dreamed of; fractures like divisiveness, moral corruption, and hubris, have been exploited both internally and externally, beg for repair. The heroism displayed by so many in the preceding months makes crystal clear that there is much work to be done, but more so, that we are the ones who can, and need do it; we all have a part.