Their Whole Religion Is A Denial of Ours

The Catholic Church has been a declining force in the Western world for decades. Clergy accused of pedophilia, school girls in their short kilts lining up at abortion clinics, empty churches across Europe, all these have pointed to a religion in decline.
Under the current pope, Benedict, the Vatican is trying to engage in a comeback of sorts. First Benny irked the Islamic world by pointing out that they have a strong history of savagery. Then he started cracking the whip to bring various dioceses in America in line, and then he decided to reach out to more radical elements of the Church by removing the excommunication decree placed on Biship Richard Williamson, a member of a Catholic sect that makes the Nazis, y"sh, look like girl guides.
It's nice to know that despite being so busy, the Vatican has time to monitor Israeli television and protest programming it finds offensive.
In the program, Shlein sarcastically denied Christian traditions, that Mary was a virgin and that Jesus walked on water, saying he was doing so as a "lesson" to Christians who deny the Holocaust.
It was a reference to the Vatican's recent lifting of the excommunication of a bishop who denied 6 million Jews were killed during World War II. The rehabilitation sparked outrage among Jews.
A statement from the Vatican press office on Friday said its representative in Israel complained to the government about the segment, which was broadcast recently on private Channel 10, one of Israel's three main TV stations, during Shlein's late-night comedy talk show.
The only difficulty is: what's the problem with these assertions? Are Jews now suddenly supposed to believe Mary was a virgin or that her no-good son walked on water? Come on! The core beliefs of Judaism demand we reject every single founding tenet of Chrisianity. Yoshke, if he existed at all, was no more the son of God than anyone else, had no super powers, performed no miracles and was not "the king of the Jews". Mary was a virgin like Bill Clinton was monogamous. It may be offensive for Catholics to hear such things but as a Jew I'm offended by their claims. Every time a Catholic priest somewhere stands up and talks about how Paul annuled "the Law" and that all God wants is for us to believe in some failed messiah figure, I am offended as a Jew.
But then, I don't go into churches so I never really hear that kind of thing. And the libertarian in me says that as long as they don't come into my shul and say them, they're free to say what they want.
So here's my message to the Papal diocese in Israel: don't watch television there. You'll sleep better at night.

What Might It Take to Avoid The Split?

It's easy for bloggers to find a column or article they don't like and post a rebuttal or dismissal of the piece on the Web. Heck, that's what a good chunk (most?) of my posts seem to be some times. It's harder to find stuff by folks you've differed with before and lavish praise on it? We're used to a negative spin in the media. After all, no one reports good news. It's not sensational. And it's the same thing with good columns. If you disagree, you want to tell the world. If you agree, you shrug your shoulders and move on.

But what with the recent emphasis on Jewish unity, or to be more specific the lack of it, I wanted to draw attention to Rav Yonasan Rosenblum's latest piece from Mishpachah, "A Hint of Jewish Unity". Although he certainly could not have realized it, the impact of the piece would become much more important shortly after with the horrific events of yesterday in Israel.

My brief stopover in Toronto last week happened to coincide with a solidarity rally for Sderot called by the Toronto Jewish Federation. As an Israeli citizen and a resident of Israel for almost three decades, it struck me that if Jews in Toronto were gathering to show solidarity with their fellow Jews in Sderot, it was no less incumbent upon me to do so.

This is one of the things I admire about Rosenblum. Yes, at times he will push positive PR for the Chareidi world in spite of any negative implications that might have otherwise been emphasized. Well, that's his job, after all and he is dedicated to earning an honest living. However, most of the time he will present a situation with a great deal of insight. He doesn't enter a discussion convinced that he is right and dismissive of his opponents. He is prepared to defend his position with great erudition but also concedes when a different point might be made. Thus, he starts the article with a thought that is not at all controversial, that of attending a Sderot rally. Later in the article, however, he notes:

I also reflected on how unlikely it would have been for me to participate in such a gathering of a broad cross-section of my fellow Jews in intensely polarized Israel. Even within the Israeli religious community, those things about which chareidim demonstrate generally do not attract the national religious community and vice versa.

This is an important observation. One comment that keeps coming up in the Israeli media is how the secular residents of northern Tel Aviv don't care about what happens in Sderot and won't until the rockets start landing in their back yards. A similar complain is sometimes voiced about the Chareidi community in Yerushalayim. Except for those who live there or truly care, the idea of rockets falling on Sderot has become like background noise. Of course it happens every day. Now, what was the score on the Leafs game?

What has been forgotten by many, I suspect, is that these rockets are not being fired at Sderot out of a desire to hurt or kill Israelis. They are being shot because of a desire to hurt or kill Jews. In a country where being Israeli has frequently supplanted being Jewish, a connection may have been broken between culturally disparate segments of society. How much more so the distance between the Israeli and Golus Jewish communities. Too often we see ourselves as Canadians, Americans, Israelis, but not as Jews with a tremendous heritage in common.

FROM THE MOMENT that the scenes from Sderot began, I found myself crying. I wasn’t exactly sure why. The most obvious explanation, of course, was that I was crying over the suffering of the residents of Sderot. But I suspect that there was something else behind those tears as well – a certain question: Why did I have to come to Toronto to focus on the suffering of my fellow Jews in Sderot?

As I child, I recall the many times my parents would shush me during the news as the words "And in Israel today..." came from the television. Every incident, every action or reaction, was the subject of divided attention and then endless conversation with Jewish friends and family. Of course we had to discuss it. We were Jews, this was Israel, it was not a question.

And this is possibly why Rav Rosenblum found himself crying, why I felt an overwhelming urge to this morning when I went through the news to read about what happened yesterday in Yerushalayim. We are all fellow Jews, both those who have kept their observance of God's Torah fresh and alive and those who have unfortunately strayed from that path. No, we no longer share even the most basic values and any attempt to build a reconciliation on the illusion that we do is doomed to fail.

But we share something more. A spiritual tie to one another born in one tremendous moment over 3000 years ago when the Heavens opened and God's voice called out "I am the Lord, thine God, that took you out of the house of bondage, out of the land of Egypt." It is that tie that makes the people of Sderot and the students of the Mercaz HaRav yeshivah my brethren and makes me feel a connection to their suffering. And that is the tie that must be nurtured to avoid our people from further splintering.

Remembering the Dream

When I was 13, I went for a post-bar mitzvah trip to Israel with my parents. One morning my father shared with me what he thought was the most important thing Israel was meant to do. "We've been so far apart as a people," he mused. "Israel will bring in Ashkenazim, Sephardim, white, black, big small. They'll meet, their children will marry and within one or two generations there will once again be a single Jewish people."

I won't state how disappointed I am at how Israeli society has failed to reach that goal. Indeed, I'm not the only one to notice. There's a nice piece by Rav Emmanuel Feldman in The Jerusalem Post today that carries his thoughts on the subject. He manages to bring up a few very important observations, starting with his opening paragraph:

Fresh out of the yeshiva, I spent my first year in the rabbinate in a lovely American small town. My congregants were warm, fine people, but I was the only fully observant Jew. At the time, a veteran rabbi asked me if the experience had strengthened my Jewishness or weakened it. Without hesitation, I replied that it had been strengthened. The very need to explain and to respond to challenges had forced me to become a more alert and more knowledgeable Jew.

How often have we heard the exact opposite? People want their kids to attend schools and yeshivos where the population is homogenous and identical in looks and beliefs. They want to socialize with groups who are compatible with what they think is important. As a result, they forget how to interact with "the other". And after forgetfulness comes hostility. "I'd rather have my child in a class with other Ashkenazi chareidim" turns into "Don't let those Sephardim/Ethiopians into the neughbourhood."

And yes, as Rav Feldman points out, interaction with "the other" often has a beneficial result. In the free market of competing ideas or haskafos, for one to continue to hold their beliefs they must understand why they have those beliefs in the first place. This forces one to confront automatic behaviours or things one does "because my parents did it" and ask: how is this Jewish/ What is the root of it? How does it compare to the other values I am noticing?

No one is talking to anyone but like-minded people. Does a kippa seruga talk to a shtreimel? Does a black hat talk to one who wears no head covering - or to a kippa seruga? Does the lady with the sheitel and the woman with the uncovered hair ever communicate with one another? Do Belzer Hassidim talk with Breslov Hassidim? Do Ashkenazim talk with Sephardim? The insularity - even within groups who have identical beliefs - is palpable.

Insularity is the easiest way to protect onself from having to justify one's views. One can live in a virtual ghetto, never having to confront contradictions or competing ideas. Over time, one's views become entrenched, even twisted from the original because of the lack of confrontation needed to keep them understood. From this come the subcultures in Judaism that believe the strangest thigns, dress the strangest ways and turn around and look at the rest with disdain.

The biggest shame is:

And they might even learn from one another. The secular Jew might learn that the observant Jew is not a monster, that he is not engaged in religious coercion, and that although he observes Shabbat and attends synagogue daily, he is not a wild-eyed fanatic, but a very decent human being. And the observant Jew might discover that his secular neighbor, though he wears no head covering, is always ready to be a good neighbor, to help him in a thousand ways, and is a real mensch.

The alternative, avoiding "the other" means stating "I don't want to learn, to grow, to engage in new facets of Torah. I want to stay right where I am because where I am is perfect." What hubris! How much is this against what we call Torah which demands of us constant intellectual effort and spiritual growth.

I often shake my head when I read on other blogs about people who were coerced into being frum or who have been told that certain, strange chumros are part and parcel of being an Orthodox Jew. In the end, this is why I have chosen to live in a small Jewish community. Yes, where I live isn't a large area. Our frum community is so small we can't afford to be factional. We can't afford not to interact in every way with the rest of our brethren around. We have one shul, one mikveh, one kosher butcher and one community school. Yes, I wrote community. My children attend classes with the other Jewish children from our area who aren't necessarily that religious (or at all sometimes). As Rav Feldman notes:

They might even be strengthened in their Jewishness, like the young rabbi in our first paragraph. Jewish children who are secure in their own beliefs and practices can only be invigorated and fortified by meeting other Jewish children of different beliefs. If they ask their parents why this and why that, the theology of the parents could only be strengthened by the need to explain and to help their children - and themselves - understand who they are. In this way, children and adults would also learn how to live in the real world where not everyone is alike. They can be helped to grow by learning that there are differences, and to learn to tolerate and understand those differences.

One of the biggest reasons for Orthodox dropout amongst those who attend university is the inability of the Orthodox young adult to reconcile their lifestyles with the open lifestyles of their new compatriots, especially their Jewish ones. For some, it's the first time they meet other Jews, non-religious but still proud of their identity, and come to ask why they need to be frum to be good Jews when all around them are people who don't observe our holy laws but feel they're doing just fine.

Children raised in a setting where they can meet other kids learn to justify themselves, gain strenghtin their identity and this strength accompanies them later through life. They will be frum not because it's the only thing they know how to do or because they've been forced into it but because they've accepted the obligation of God's Torah willingly and happily. Their will be a secuar sense of Judaism which has no need to shut out "the other" to prevent contaminating ideas. They will be able to engage in the dialogue that is sorely lacking amongst our people and preventing our Moshiach from engaging in his final task.