The Layperson’s Role at This Time (Column 277)
Why theoretical discussion resonates mainly with the young and with beit midrash people
From an encounter with people his age, the rabbi concludes that discussions about faith, fundamentalism, and his trilogy are seen as interesting but not very relevant. He offers two complementary explanations: young people are still forming identity and worldview and therefore seek foundations, whereas older people already live according to their path; and, in parallel, beit midrash people see this kind of conceptual work as part of their world, while laypeople tend to see the rabbi as an expert who supplies answers instead of engaging themselves with first principles. He also notes that in the non-Haredi world the two distinctions overlap, because beit midrash people are usually young.
Laypeople's judgment is not merely a practical consideration but a test of truth
Against the background of a point by Rabbi Benny Lau, the column distinguishes between a community rabbi who meets people with life experience and a rosh yeshiva who mostly meets young students evaluating logic and intellectual brilliance. A layperson can say that an argument may be consistent, yet it does not sit right with the heart, common sense, and life itself. In the rabbi's view, that is not just a correction for detached leadership or an adaptation to the public; it is an indication that the ruling itself is probably mistaken.
Why a decree that never takes hold in the public suggests the ruling missed something
The column explains that the rule that a decree which was not accepted by most of the public lapses is not merely a compromise with public weakness. If a halakhic directive does not fit the people in the field, that signals it is missing a genuine Torah component, because common sense and life experience are part of Torah rather than an external constraint. Aside from pious extra conduct and acting beyond the letter of the law, what does not fit the public as a whole is probably not halakhically correct either.
Dismissing laypeople's judgment in the Haredi world enables disconnected stringencies
From here the column explains the distortion created by adopting the slogan that lay opinion is the opposite of Torah opinion. If criticism from the ground does not count, any brilliant beit-midrash innovation can become normative even when it is detached from life. The restraining force of common sense is then lost, and stringencies and inventions with no real check can proliferate.
The modern-Orthodox public disappears between Hardal and Lite because it lacks a systematic voice
The column rejects the dichotomy that there are only Hardalim or Lite people. It argues that there is also a public of serious religious Jews who are not Haredi in their conception of authority, their relation to sources, modernity, and halakhic change, even if this group barely has a name in Israeli discourse. But because many of them are laypeople without an ordered doctrine and without strong rabbinic-intellectual leadership, it is easy to label them all Lite and evade a real discussion of their claims.
Bottom-up change must come as illuminated argument, not as halakhic violation
The rabbi accepts the need for bottom-up change, but sharply distinguishes between two mechanisms. One is a situation in which the public simply deviates from halakha and the poskim are then forced to compromise; in his view this is a Lite and problematic mechanism, even if the deviation sometimes rests on a justified intuition that there should be room for leniency. The other, which he advocates, is the raising of questions, intuitions, and reasoned demands that lead poskim to see that the existing ruling itself requires correction. In his terms, Lite-ness as lightness must become Lite-ness as illumination.
What the layperson's task looks like in practice
The column says, deliberately, that all laypeople should, as far as possible, become learned and capable of ruling; but even someone who will not do that must at least ask intelligent questions, read accessible material, demand reasons, identify possible halakhic mechanisms, and seek a second opinion. As with a doctor, there is no reason automatically to bow to professional authority when something seems absurd; one should investigate, consult, and confront rabbis with serious questions.
Those who stay silent help freeze halakha, and that is also the trilogy's goal
The conclusion is that halakhic stagnation stems not only from a problematic establishment but also from the silence and comfort of decent people. Anyone who truly cares about the state of Judaism cannot hide behind the excuse that he is only a layperson; if he is unwilling to invest effort, the rabbi hints, he really is Lite rather than modern-Orthodox. That is why the trilogy was written not only for rabbis but also for the people in the field: to give them tools to ask better questions, demand better answers, and not wait passively for change.
With God’s help
This past Saturday night I spoke before a group of men and women roughly my age, and discussed the renewal needed in faith and among believers. In my remarks I touched on the question of fundamentalism and faith, and explained the problems with the fundamentalist approach and why faith need not take that form. The remarks were offered as a framework for understanding the intellectual foundation of my trilogy and the motivation for writing it. After the meeting I found myself with reflections about the relevance of my trilogy and of my writing in general, and I want to lay out some of them here.
On Age and Social Category
The impression I got, at least from some of the participants (both from what was said and from their body language), was that such a discussion is indeed interesting, but not very relevant to them. I should stress that, in my judgment, these were people whose social and religious location is very much in keeping with the spirit of the trilogy (modern religious people, liberals), and yet that was the atmosphere I sensed from a large portion of them. I thought to myself that these are people who have already formed their worldview, and are already living as they live. Therefore they are not looking for justifications and explanations for their path, and presumably do not intend to invest time and effort in theoretically clarifying their religious worldview.
I wondered whether this was a matter of age or of social category, and perhaps both answers are correct. As far as age is concerned, self-searching and intellectual and existential clarification naturally characterize the younger generation more. Young people are engaged in shaping a worldview, examining their path, and they have more motivation to invest time in this. They presumably still live with the sense that one can live according to articulated principles, and not merely go with the flow of natural feelings. It is no accident that, among the people I meet, the overwhelming majority are young people (usually male) who come to me with questions and doubts and are engaged in clarifying and shaping their worldview.
That is with regard to age. But alongside this I also had the sense that it touches on social category. The feeling was that these discussions are a matter for those in the study hall, and less for laypeople. The layperson, even one who is fully committed to Jewish law and the service of God, is supposed to receive halakhic information from the rabbi or scholar and apply it in life. He is not supposed to specialize in and engage in these matters professionally and in depth. Just as one goes to a doctor or expert in any other field in order to receive the relevant information, the layperson expects the rabbi to be his expert in Jewish law and Jewish thought. The task of clarifying the ideological, philosophical, and halakhic principles does not fall on him. On the face of it, he is right. That is why we maintain study halls and experts in scholarship, thought, and Jewish law.
Before I continue, I will just note that there is of course a connection between the two categories. At least in the non-Haredi public, those in the study hall are usually young people. At older ages, people are already occupied with the areas they have chosen for themselves. Yeshiva study ends in the early twenties, and afterward the diligent few study at most Daf Yomi, while the others do not even do that. Therefore the distinction between age groups is connected to the distinction between social categories. My arguments and writings are probably more relevant to those in the study hall and to younger people.[1]
The Role of Laypeople in Jewish Law
It seems to me that I have already mentioned here ([2]) something I once read from Rabbi Benny Lau. He said that one of the problems with rabbinic leadership in recent generations is that in the past the spiritual leader was a rabbi, whereas today it is usually heads of yeshivot. Rabbis know the world and its inhabitants. They stand before adults with life experience who are knowledgeable in various fields. Heads of yeshivot, by contrast, hone themselves against brilliant young students. These, naturally, chiefly examine the logic and intellectual brilliance of their Talmudic constructions. A layperson can tell a rabbi that his words may be brilliant and free of contradictions, but they “just don’t make sense”—that is, they do not sit right. They are simply not true. A young student will not say this to the head of the yeshiva. He will look for contradictions in what he says, test the logic, challenge him from other sources, but he is not yet mature enough to examine matters with plain common sense and life experience. A public leader must test his words in the crucible of common sense as well, and not only by their internal logic. That is why the rabbinic leadership sometimes issues public directives that are so detached and disconnected.
Simply speaking, the advantage of a rabbi over a head of yeshiva lies in the fit of his instructions to the public. That is, following common sense and not necessarily the more brilliant logical conclusion is meant to suit the condition of the public and life as it is actually lived. But in my view this is only part of the picture. I argue that feedback from laypeople directs rabbinic instruction toward truth. The alignment with common sense and life experience is not merely a compromise with life. The fit between a ruling and life is an indication of the truth of the ruling itself. Laypeople give feedback to the rabbi and direct his rulings toward truth. The assumption is that a halakhic ruling that does not suit the public at large is not a correct ruling (and not merely an impracticable one). Common sense is part of Torah, for The Torah was not given to ministering angels (the Torah was not given to ministering angels). As a rule, a ruling that does not suit the public at large is not something that even those in the study halls should observe.[3]
I once explained in this way the halakhic principle that A decree that was not accepted by the majority of the community is void (a decree that has not spread among the majority of the public is void). This is not a matter of compromising with the lamentable state of the public. If the decree does not fit and is not accepted publicly, then it is apparently not correct. This can help us understand the distortion that has arisen in Haredi society, which absorbs all kinds of strange and baseless stringencies, and it seems as though this is a runaway positive-feedback loop. The reason is that in the Haredi world an ethos has developed according to which the opinion of laypeople is the opposite of Da’at Torah—the Torah view—and therefore lay criticism does not count. We relate to the “oylem”—the faceless crowd—not to the real world. From this it follows that any innovation that arises in the study hall, which of course can be very consistent and brilliant, when it meets with criticism from the public at large, they do not count. After all, they are only laypeople. In such a situation there is no necessary restraint of common sense on the directives that emerge from the study hall and from the dark, detached chambers of the halakhic decisors. This is the important role of laypeople in the development of Torah and Jewish law.
On Hardal and Lite
Quite a few laypeople have criticism of the establishment. Especially when we are speaking of laypeople who belong to the modern camp. Among many of them there is a feeling that the halakhic and rabbinic establishment is detached from life (at least from their life), and is ossifying Torah. But by virtue of being laypeople, their claims usually are not backed by real arguments and sources, and therefore it is quite easy to dismiss them out of hand as lay opinion opposed to the Torah view.
I have just finished writing a column about the relatively new phenomenon in our circles: the distinction between Hardalim and the lite camp. In many places it is customary to present it as a dichotomous distinction, that is, as a division that covers the entire spectrum: either you are Hardal or you are lite. But that itself is, of course, Hardal propaganda. After all, between those two there is another important category: serious religious people who are not Haredi (in their religious outlook; I am not dealing here with saying Hallel on Independence Day). One may call this modern religiosity (Modern Orthodoxy). They are not Haredi in the sense that modern values matter to them, and in the sense of their attitude toward sources and their authority, toward changes in Jewish law, and more. In Israeli public discourse today, this category does not even have a name, let alone a public presence. It is swept under the rug, and the picture is presented as though the only options are Hardal and lite. My impression is that there are quite a few such people. Why, then, is it so easy to present them all as lite and to dismiss the phenomenon without seriously grappling with it?[4] Because this public consists mostly of laypeople, and therefore most of them have no ability to present a coherent doctrine. They lack rabbinic leadership of real stature and systematic thought to guide their path, and they themselves are not prepared, or are unable, to do the work.
The Role of the Layperson at This Time
But that is the reality. So long as no grounded claims are raised, backed by arguments and halakhic and philosophical sources, this failed dichotomy will continue to dominate, and the necessary changes will not come on their own. So what is the way out? Laypeople need to understand that at this time they have a role in the halakhic arena. The task of adapting and updating Jewish law falls on them as well. If the rabbis are not doing the work, they are not exempt from it (In a place where there are no men… [where there are no men…]).
I am speaking here about what is called “bottom-up change.” Usually the expression “change from below” is understood as follows: there are existing halakhic directives. The public at large expresses distress and inability to carry them out, and even begins to deviate from them without permission or halakhic sanction (such as the phenomenon of text messages on the Sabbath, failures to observe the rules of physical contact, and the like). Then sometimes the rabbinic establishment responds and yields, and changes the halakhic ruling. There is no choice, and one has to compromise. But this is a problematic mechanism. That really is lite religiosity, because the layperson who acts this way does not really know that what he is doing accords with Jewish law. He simply does what he feels like, or what seems right to him, without a suitable halakhic basis. Either he is right or he is mistaken, and then the compromise, even if it is in fact made, is not proper. He forces us to compromise and not to observe Jewish law properly. I am speaking about changes that ought to be made, not about the imposition of compromises. Therefore, in my view, a different mechanism is called for—one in which the reasoned arguments and demands come “from below.” Not deviation from Jewish law that forces the halakhic decisors to change their rulings and take the public at large into account. I am speaking about feedback that will cause the decisors to understand that this ruling is mistaken. This is not a compromise but bottom-up action that brings us closer to the contemporary halakhic truth.
By the way, I must say that even the phenomenon of text messages on the Sabbath and other departures from Jewish law are not always pure lite-ness. I am inclined to think that in some cases they are based on feelings (which, as is known, are not unfounded; see the previous column) that there really ought to be a halakhic permission for this. Lite religiosity rides on top of that. Still, in my view, the lite mode of conduct—according to which one violates Jewish law on the basis of feelings without any real foundation—is problematic. The more correct way is to demand a halakhic examination of those feelings. We need to transform “lite” in the sense of superficial ease into “light” in the sense of illumination (light that charts the way).
What Does This Mean in Practice?
How should this be expressed in practice? Must all laypeople become scholars and halakhic decisors? First of all—yes. But even someone who, for whatever reason, does not want to or is not suited to do so can at least raise grounded and intelligent claims. He should not suffice with saying that one halakhic ruling or another does not suit him, or that it is immoral, but should point to halakhic mechanisms that allow change. He does not have to come with a fully articulated doctrine, but he can ask the questions intelligently.
By way of analogy, consider a person who receives an unreasonable instruction from a doctor. Should he tell himself that he lacks medical knowledge and bow his back before the doctor? In my opinion, definitely not. He should try to read relevant materials, go consult additional doctors, try to request explanations, and in the end make decisions. The same applies to Jewish law and Jewish thought. The layperson need not finish the job and present a coherent doctrine. But he does have to ask intelligent questions, direct them to rabbis, seek a second opinion, and place the matter before the rabbis and demand answers. In such a situation, they themselves can arrive at conclusions and change prevailing positions. This is the contemporary expression of the halakhic requirement that a decree take hold among the public.
If the matter is important to you, like a medicine or medical procedure that endangers your life, you will make the effort to do the work. So too, if the state of Judaism troubles you, then you are not exempt from doing the work. Read accessible literature, consult experts, ask challenging questions of those who disagree with you, and in this way you too will contribute to the necessary adjustments and changes. Someone who is unwilling to do this work probably does not really care enough. If so, he really is lite and not modern-religious. Someone to whom the state of Judaism and Jewish law matters, someone who sees in this a dangerous operation that touches his life, ought to devote the time and energy to contribute to these processes. He cannot exempt himself by claiming that he is a layperson and that this is the job of those in the study hall. In a place where there are no men, strive to be a man (“Where there are no men, strive to be a man”). This lack of willingness (which of course contains elements of laziness) is also responsible for the freezing of the situation and for the ossification that prevails in our circles.
Several wise people have already pointed out that in order for something bad to occur in the world, it is not enough that there be bad people who do bad deeds. What is no less important is that there be many good people around them who remain silent. Of course, in the case before us this is usually not a matter of evil for its own sake, but the logic is still quite similar.
I will not turn this into a sales pitch for the trilogy, but I will conclude by saying that my purpose in writing it was to address rabbis and halakhic decisors, but also the public at large. My hope is that the trilogy will at least give them tools to pose good questions intelligently and to demand answers that are no less good.
“Do not say, ‘The day will come’; bring the day” (ibid.).
[1] Of course there are exceptions. I am speaking here in generalizations.
[2] See here and in my article here, and also in column 62.
[3] Of course there are “a measure of piety” (extra piety), “beyond the letter of the law” (beyond the letter of the law), and the like. But at the level of Jewish law, what does not suit the public as a whole is apparently not correct.
[4] I mean genuine and straightforward engagement with the claims, not an educational engagement whose purpose is to prevent the phenomenon.
Discussion
Much as I agree with what you say, when it comes to discussing the trilogy there is another very significant barrier: the philosophical discussion and the philosophical method. For most people this is difficult, whether inherently or simply out of unfamiliarity, and very quickly it becomes hard to keep one’s head in the story.
Maybe it would be worthwhile to publish an abridged trilogy handbook (“The Being Who Rules Among Those Who Stand”) summarizing the conclusions of the discussion in language accessible to everyone 🙂
It seems to me that many people feel we’ve already exhausted the answers. We’re no longer young, we’ve already heard and seen a lot, and the (unformulated) conclusion we’ve reached is that some things just don’t make sense, and all the explanations are lousy.
So people maintain whatever level of halakhic observance suits them, not out of a sense of obligation but for other reasons.
Greetings and blessings, Rabbi Michael Abraham,
As someone who rushed to buy the trilogy and even invested the time to read it (including the references to sources), the question really did come up for me from time to time—and still does: who is this monumental enterprise for? After all, ostensibly the people at whom you are aiming your
words probably won’t read them. But perhaps one can think about it as you presented in the current post—that the ideas will trickle upward to the decision-makers among the people in the fields (or that the people in the fields will become the decision-makers, God forbid). In any case, in our Guide for the Perplexed classes, points from your trilogy come up regularly. What’s more, “because of you” it’s hard for me to call these classes Torah classes—certainly not Torah in the objective sense. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqtrrtubLfk&list=PLLCklp0aRlfAvUvDhPjLANt2Qo0pdebe1&index=2
Rabbi Michi, שלום,
As a supplement and a question about your approach—one of the main claims heard in the yeshiva public is that even if a person studies the topic deeply, in the end he still lacks recognition of the “ways of halakhic ruling,” of the relationship between study and practical ruling, which is something acquired only through broad familiarity with many topics throughout the Talmud.
For example, halakhic advisors only state simple settled rulings (“the Shulchan Arukh says this, Rabbi Ovadia says that”), but in places where discretion is required—the official instruction (not that all of them follow it, still) is to refer the question to the rabbi of the town/neighborhood, not because he necessarily understands the laws of niddah better, but because he has a broader understanding of the overall “ways of halakhic ruling.”
What is your opinion in general on the relationship between learning a specific sugya and halakhic ruling—does one need to know a “general landscape” or not? And if you do accept that—will laymen never be able to issue rulings, even after studying a sugya, because they lack an understanding of the “way of Torah” in halakhic decision-making?
“The assumption is that a halakhic ruling that does not fit the people in the fields is not a correct ruling (and not merely an impractical one).”
Where is the line drawn?
True, you are speaking about the religious people in the middle of the spectrum (those who are neither lite nor hardal) as the “people in the fields,” but I want to stretch the edges of the discussion. What about the people who are really in the fields—the fields of Tel Aviv, Ramat Gan, and Givatayim, etc. (maybe we should call this “the people in the ownerless fields”…)
As the years go by, these “people in the fields” become more and more skeptical, and the reasoning now presented as something that “makes sense” will, in 10, 20, 30 years, be considered only “internal reasoning.” Reality changes quickly, especially in the postmodern era, so what did the Sages accomplish with their enactment—every 20–30 years halakhah will get a massive update because it doesn’t suit people?
(An example from the genre of “outlook” and “faith”: I’m not expert in Rav Kook literature, but I think that in his time he, at least in his less esoteric writings, would have been considered someone who understood the zeitgeist far better than his haredi colleagues—and yet today he is sometimes placed in the same row as Kahane and company by those same “people in the fields” who supposedly are meant to observe Torah and mitzvot and believe also on the basis of reason and plain common sense, not only from a Torah-internal perspective. In short, the argument your honor is making seems to me dynamic and somewhat slippery, and it does not hold up over time.
This is also basically one reason many were repelled by the Guide for the Perplexed, because it only temporarily “pads things over” with explanations that fit the here and now.
Something that needs to be propped up in every era with renewed citations and explanations and all sorts of justifications is, in my opinion, not worth very much.
And in truth, there is not much fundamental difference between your honor’s brilliant trilogy and the pamphlets of the outreach-to-repentance crowd (not to mention the charlatans), which need refreshing every so often. So maybe yours will stand the test of time for 100–200 years, while theirs last two days at best—but the direction is the same.)
Returning to halakhah: will every wave of Facebook posts, or some mass disregard for a certain halakhah, entitle the public (at the end of the process) to sweeping leniencies? (True, there are precedents for this in halakhah, but not on the scales implied by the end of the article, and I didn’t understand the distinction between “compromise from below” and “action from below.” In the end this supposedly forces the decisor to trim halakhah in its previous version and bring the lay practice, which had previously been considered problematic, into the boundaries of halakhah—but perhaps I’m not grasping the finer points.)
One more thing: “rather to point to halakhic mechanisms that allow change”—in essence, if I understand correctly, you are suggesting that laypeople and rabbis/poskot should give much greater weight (if not decisive weight) to considerations that are not connected to halakhah. So what will actually happen as a result (since we do not live in an Aristotelian society of philosophers) is the “trolling” of halakhic discourse, where everyone will be able to criticize everyone else, because in essence he too is a decisor—after all, he has a mind, a pulse, and logical arguments. And there will be no end to it.
This is, for example, the problem, in my view, with the bizarre discourse of recent years in Religious Zionism regarding LGBT issues, where people say “it’s natural/not natural,” “basic human morality,” etc. I think this stems from our basic urge as a sector living on the seam between religion and modernity (in general) to present the words of Torah also as things that are morally and generally elementary. (In the same genre are the explanation of the 39 prohibited labors of Shabbat as a socialist value—when one hears this from staunch libertarian/capitalist MKs, the absurdity becomes sevenfold; and forbidden foods as a health measure, or circumcision as a miracle preventive remedy, and so on and so forth, and the list only gets worse.) This is done in order to “bring closer” the “distant.” But what can you do—the distant are not living under a rock; they have opinions, and their morality and their “nature” are somewhat different, and they snicker at all this nonsense, quite justifiably). If so, then the moment one “opens up” halakhah to a broader discussion of its principles, ostensibly that is already a reformulation, and not merely point-by-point corrections.
But this also depends on the weight one gives to the Oral Torah and to the opinions of the early and later authorities.
I’m speaking a bit roughly, but I am asking and want to understand.
I really am torn on this issue. Beyond my personal tendency toward philosophical prolixity (though not perfectionism), when I write I see before my eyes a committed reader looking for a systematic doctrine and examining it in detail. That is the reader to whom I am committed and for whom I write. The rest are welcome to join.
See my previous reply. Here I’ll only add that if there is someone whose heart moves him to produce an abridgment—blessings upon him.
I really do think these things reach various audiences and places in different ways. These ideas have a winding route, and it cannot be planned in advance. I do what I can, and the rest either will happen or won’t.
I completely accept that. And indeed, in my opinion there are people who know the material, and you can see that halakhic judgment is not really understood by them. That is why I explicitly wrote that I am against “from below” revolutions in the first sense (liteness), and instead in favor of raising intelligent questions. Decisions should be made by decisors.
I’ll answer briefly.
I have no answer to the question of where the line is, but I am really not alarmed by it. For my part, halakhah can change every two days. The question is what is halakhically correct at that time, not how similar we are to our fathers or grandfathers. Why is that interesting? What is the problem with frequent changes? One should do what is correct, whether it resembles or differs from what was done in the past. I have written here before that I oppose ruling on grounds of conservatism, or innovation, originality, leniency, or stringency. Halakhic ruling should be according to what is correct, and those categories are the business of the scholar who describes the work of a given decisor. He can say whether he was conservative or innovative, stringent or lenient, original or not.
As for the relationship between halakhah and morality, I have discussed my view in several places, precisely because of the difficulties you raise. In my opinion there is no connection at all between halakhah and morality. They are two independent categories.
I also do not want to bring the distant closer. They don’t really interest me. I am against changing halakhah in order to bring people closer. I am in favor of keeping halakhah as is correct, and the purpose of change is to arrive at what is correct. Whoever wants may come closer, and whoever does not, not.
Hello,
I’d like to suggest an alternative explanation: what you are proposing requires courage, in order to cast doubt on what you already think, and not many people want to leave their comfort zone.
She explains it better than I do! Recommended:
https://youtu.be/w4RLfVxTGH4
Avraham
Rabbi Michael, it seems to me you are giving too much credit to baalei batim. I am admittedly much younger than you and have presumably seen less than you, but still, as someone who grew up in the districts of the religious bourgeoisie, I think your credit is exaggerated.
These are generally people whose religious lives are guided very much by something from which, in my opinion, no one is more inclined than you to disassociate himself: “Yiddishkeit from grandpa’s house.”
Those people you are talking about will not agree to many of the changes you propose and that you think (mistakenly, in my view) could potentially come from them, and not because of any halakhic argument or intuition but for the reason that “grandpa and grandma did it this way, so we’ll do it this way too.”
It is routine in the public you are talking about for people to be lax about modesty laws, to swim mixed, to dance mixed, and so on and so forth—but when it comes to the synagogue, over their dead bodies will you try to organize a “partnership” minyan there, New Shira style.
Why? Is modesty suddenly important to them? No; they simply want to see the synagogue and the prayers “the way grandpa and grandma prayed.”
That is the average baalebatish mentality, and certainly when talking about people in the age bracket you referred to in the post.
It really doesn’t seem to me that the message you think is supposed to come from them will come from them.
My sense is that one can see the process you describe in women’s issues—for example, partnership minyanim and a pull toward full equality: changes from below arising from serious halakhic reasoning (though at times not serious enough) and a feeling of common sense and intuition that this is the right and true thing.
From the “top-down” direction, I don’t know whether the establishment is ready to contain this and grant legitimacy to these changes.
In my opinion, if you upload to the site a chapter/sample passages from each book of the trilogy, that could spark interest among people who are unfamiliar with your writing (the advertisement, as you said, struck some people as too provocative).
For example, I think the discussion with Hillel at the beginning of the first book is very intriguing and touches many exposed nerves.
If we are dealing with abominable sociology, then there is a name for serious religious people who are not hardalim. I think they are called torani. But all of this grates on my ears. Sociology is lies and nonsense (that is, human society is lies. Any society whatsoever. Truth is found in the individual, not in the public). It seems to me that precisely the haredim and the leftists love it very much (they very much love dealing with sectors and publics and surveys and changes within society and the engineering of societies and all that nonsense). It simply testifies to inner emptiness. A person who has nothing of his own will try to draw identity from the environment in which he lives, or from some environment or other.
“And this can explain the distortion that arose in haredi society, which absorbs all kinds of strange and baseless stringencies”—could we get a few examples of these harsh accusations!
It seems to me that the blame for ignoring the people in the middle falls דווקא on the people in the middle. Often it turns out that openness of mind and liberalism come together with laxity in halakhah in general (even in things where there is agreement that this is how one should act). For example, from what I have seen, quite a few of the women who are members of religious women’s organizations dress in ways that do not accord with halakhah, and if so it is no wonder that the people in the middle carry no weight—they are simply perceived (and rightly so) as part of the lite public, even if some of the views have logic and a structured platform behind them.
I listened and did not see any innovations there. I’m surprised such a thing got a TED talk. Of course it is very useful to be aware of the phenomenon, and it is worthwhile to put it on the table. But there is no novelty or brilliance there.
As for your actual point, in this column I was mainly discussing people who think this way anyway, so we are talking about laying the groundwork for their position, not about making them doubt their position.
There are all kinds of baalebatim. I am speaking about baalebatim of the sort who have no rabbis representing their positions, and my claim is that they need to pick up the gauntlet themselves. The baalebatim you describe do have leadership that expresses their position, and therefore nothing is required of them (apart from learning Daf Yomi).
I think that there, specifically, one does see change, and indeed there more serious arguments are already being raised. The example of attitudes toward women in the synagogue דווקא strengthens my argument about the influence of serious bottom-up arguments. That does not mean, of course, that all synagogues today are egalitarian, but it is certainly more legitimate and has become more common in varying degrees of egalitarianism.
There are many. “Premium-grade” tefillin. Expanding the category of kitniyot on Passover (canola). Kashrut certification on Passover products that do not require certification. Mere fashions. Kosher phones. Wigs from idolatry in India. Shabbat elevators. The heter mechirah (I mean the total attitude toward it, not the position itself that rejects it), and more.
There are several types in those groups, and as is the way of people at the extremes, they do not bother to distinguish between them. Nor are all haredim thieves who commit sexual offenses within the family, even though their critics portray them that way.
Sometimes what looks to you like agreed-upon halakhah is only because you have become accustomed to certain norms. For example, pants for women, “lite” head coverings, and more.
But I am not looking for anyone to blame. I really don’t care whether they are ignored or not. They have a problem—so let them solve it.
I find a parallel between the tension you create in your words within the religious world and the tension that exists between conservatism and postmodernism:
In the religious world there is enormous respect for rabbis, because thanks to them the flame of Jewish culture was preserved and could blaze up from time to time over the years.
As a baalebayit I appreciate them and must appreciate them for that, because the role of a rabbi in Israel (even if he is a rosh yeshiva) is more than that of a lawyer or accountant, for example (hence conservatism).
And on the other hand you ask that we be critical of their rulings (hence postmodernism). This is important, but it requires very great familiarity with the ways of halakhah—at least like seeing a postmodern artwork without knowing its sources of inspiration, its deconstruction, and its refusal to rebuild.
I wonder whether a baalebayit has the means to meet your demand.
Even if I identify with it, it is hard for me to think that more than a very small handful will be able to do so.
With God’s help, on the eve of holy Shabbat, “Then the householder shall come near to God,” 5780
The author of the post rightly raised the question of “the role of the householder” at this time as we prepare for Parashat Mishpatim, where it is clear from the plain meaning of Scripture that a “householder” is a person who has a house under his care, and therefore “money or vessels have been deposited in his hand to keep.”
So too the “householder” in its current sense, a person most of whose time is devoted to his occupation in the labor of earning a living and who must engage intensively in the “settling of the world”—is a constant guardian of precious deposits entrusted to him by the Creator of the world:
Beginning with the divine soul entrusted within his body, over which he is appointed “to work it and to guard it” (as explained by Rabbi Ovadia Sforno ad loc.), so that it not be worn down and swallowed up in “worldly treatment and distraction,” liable to make him forget his divine source and destiny. And continuing with the souls of his wife and household members, to whom he owes not only material sustenance, but also abundant love and attention, and much education and encouragement to walk in the ways of God and do what is good and upright in the eyes of God and man.
And from investment in himself and his household—the circle of investment required of a “householder” expands also to his surroundings and community, and further still to the near and farthest society, that he be pleasant-faced, hospitable, and kind. That his business dealings be conducted faithfully, honestly, and pleasantly with people.
The world of the mundane and of action is a precious deposit entrusted to the “householder,” to show that even in it one can make for God “a dwelling in the lower realms,” and to show that even ordinary practical life can be illuminated and guided by God and His Torah, and can be in the category of “the mundane in the purity of the sacred.”
In order for the “householder” to fulfill faithfully his great mission, to illuminate ordinary practical life—the householder must “come near to God.” He must be strongly connected to Torah. He must set fixed times for Torah study so that he may know “what God requires of His people” in the details of the halakhot and their particulars, which are renewed every morning in a world that changes and develops rapidly. And no less than that, he must strengthen and stabilize his Torah outlook so that he will know how to cope with the “common and uncommon” winds blowing in our stormy world, and know what to draw near and what to draw near.
For this purpose the “householder” must be connected and linked to the experts in the edifice, to Torah scholars who know how to translate their knowledge and inquiry in the expanses of Torah into specific halakhic and spiritual guidance, for proper coping with the challenges of the time. From those “householders” who come with their questions to the sages of the generation and place before them the doubts, perplexities, and renewed questions—from them the halakhic teachers are stirred to delve deeply into the written and transmitted Torah, and from it to find fitting solutions to the questions and problems.
Contrary to the proposal of the author of the post, it is not the role of the “householder” to provoke and exert pressure on the sages of the generation so as to bend them before every passing wind, but rather to approach their doorway as “one who asks to the point,” whose questions come truly in order to learn and receive from his teachers—questions that make his teachers wiser and give them strength to answer according to halakhah. Go out and see, on the pages of Tehumin and the like, how many renewed halakhic discussions grew out of scientists and technologists, physicians and educators, people of society and economics, security and law—whose alert questions developed into complete halakhic topics.
The power of the question of the “householder” who asks to the point—it is what opens up the power of innovation in his teachers who “answer according to halakhah.” In my humble opinion, that is the role of the “householder” at this time.
With blessings, Sh. Tz.
We mentioned the contribution of the “householder” who asks to the point—to cultivating the power of the sages to innovate and answer according to halakhah. But halakhah is only one part of the world of Judaism.
Halakhah is the “boundary lines” that obligate all Israel as a “categorical imperative,” and within them, like “a baker’s loaf,” there should be a uniform halakhah for all Israel.
But within the broad “boundary line”—it is fitting for each person to cultivate his own unique personal point, for each can have a unique point in which he is “more careful.” One excels in love and another in awe; one develops the intellect and another the habit; one focuses on cultivating his personality and another is immersed in repairing the world and society. One’s strength lies in deepening spiritual life and another’s in practical life. All are beloved and all are clear, and all complement one another, like a philharmonic orchestra, whose beauty and splendor lie precisely in the harmony created among different instruments.
Here there is room for the “householder” to cultivate his unique “loaf,” and to illuminate his unique facet, which will shine like a diamond alongside and in harmony with the unique gems of his peers. This is the power and role of the “private domain.”
And perhaps for that reason the “Book of the Covenant” concludes with “You shall not boil a kid in its mother’s milk,” to teach us that with all the obligation of the “kid” toward the honor of its “mother”—still each person has his own unique point which should not be erased and blurred by the cooking that mixes and blurs.
With blessings of “Shabbat shalom,” Tzsh”tz.
Paragraph 3, line 3
… one develops the intellect and another cultivates the emotion, …
With God’s help, 26 Shevat 5780
And as for the post author seeing “the view of householders” as a shield against fundamentalist zealotry—on the contrary, it is possible that דווקא an independent “view of householders” that is not subordinate to “Da’at Torah” is what brings extreme zealotry. After all, in Islam we see that peaks of extreme violence, such as ISIS and al-Qaeda, come דווקא from fringe groups that are not subordinate to the existing “religious establishment,” which political realism moderates considerably in its call for a “commanded war.”
An ordinary person can grasp from religion precisely those sources calling for a total “commanded war.” By contrast, a religious leader whose worldview is shaped by a tradition of ruling over generations will find that religion is not only unceasing jihad, and indeed that same Muhammad who fought the heretics in order to establish Islamic rule—also created the precedent of protection and tolerance for the members of monotheistic religions willing to accept Muslim rule.
And all the more so are these things true in the Torah of Israel, which, in the words of the Maharal, is “the order of the world,” giving each value its proper measure and domain while maintaining balance with the opposing value, which also has its place and role within proper boundaries. And it takes a great deal of “Da’at Torah” to know when to act with firmness and when with patience.
Thus, for example, had Yigal Amir consulted authorized halakhic decisors—they would have explained to him that the law of a “pursuer,” by whose force he imagined he was acting, is stated only where there is no other way to save the one being pursued. But here there was an effective democratic means of protest to fight his failed policy; vigorous public protest had brought Rabin’s standing down in public opinion, until polls predicted that he would lose the elections that were supposed to be held that year. What Amir achieved was the exact opposite: he brought about the strengthening of the left.
And in summary:
The view of “householders,” which sees only part of the picture—is good for arousing action. One whose tendency is zealous will be stirred to forceful protest; and one whose tendency is to draw near will be stirred energetically to outreach activity. And both extremes need “Da’at Torah,” which moderates and balances and gives both tendencies room to be expressed in the proper way.
The world was founded upon “truth,” which demands perfection, and also upon “peace,” which demands consideration for “the other.” And between them “justice” balances, enabling truth to be brought in ways of peace.
With blessings, Sh. Tz.
So, like this,
“Premium-grade” tefillin—nobody thinks that is an obligatory halakhah, but in a generation of abundance, when people run to buy the newest smartphone and the designer baby stroller, there are people whose hobby is the “very best” tefillin. That is their right.
Personally I think it would be better if they gave the money they spend on “premium-grade” to charity, but for that you don’t need “change from below,” because no decisor has ruled that this stringency is an obligatory halakhah.
The same goes for canola; it simply doesn’t really bother people not to fry in canola oil for seven days a year.
Besides, Passover is a holiday known for its bizarre stringencies for hundreds of years (at least).
There is kashrut certification even on disposable cups (for weekdays); nobody rules that. It is just another (unnecessary) service to the public.
Kosher phone. The haredim see unfiltered internet as a danger. You can argue with that, of course, but that argument is not of the kind discussed in the present post. If you have another way to prevent the danger, you are welcome to suggest it. Until then, any complaint about a kosher phone is not serious.
And again, one can argue that there is no danger in the internet; one can also argue that despite the danger, the public does not interest you and everyone should deal with his own dangers and difficulties. All of these are arguments unrelated to the present topic.
Wigs from idolatry in India—that was a claim of those who oppose wigs in principle (on grounds of modesty) and rode that wave. In any case, the number of people who bought that yarn was utterly negligible.
Shabbat elevator is an entirely legitimate dispute among the great halakhic decisors. Each person should choose his own decisor; I don’t see a problem here.
The total attitude toward the heter mechirah is not okay. But its reasons are not a search for stringencies, but: 1. Ignorance (people see it as an illegitimate halakhic trick, whereas it is a mechanism similar to the sale of chametz and the heter iska). 2. Sectarian quarrels among small people. The understanding reader will understand.
Have a good day.
There are excuses for everything. And of course I did not mention the obvious things, like a Torah prohibition on SMS, television, a driver’s license, singing events, reading general literature, prohibitions on women regarding all sorts of things, hysterical segregations, stockings and the relevant number of denier, matters of kashrut certifications, and so on and so on. I suggest we stop this unnecessary and disingenuous discussion here, and let each person formulate his own position.
Thank you for your reply; it is a guide for us.
But theoretically, I too think there is no principled problem with halakhah changing every two days—the question is for what reason. And seemingly, what emerges from the article (as I understand it) is that the spirit rising from the people is enough to change halakhot from one end to the other, and the decisor must be attentive to claims and arguments and be ready to change halakhah. So how does that fit with what you write: “I am in favor of keeping halakhah as is correct, and the purpose of change is to arrive at what is correct,” if the change itself (or the reasons for it, whether it is a Facebook whim or a reasoned argument) is what makes it correct? So what is the difference, really, between halakhah (for yes, what is the difference between refraining from touch, texting on Shabbat, or the red heifer) and a social norm (say, income tax), if everything rises and falls on a nice argument, not necessarily from the internal logic of Torah/halakhah?
With God’s help, eve of the new month of Adar 5780
And regarding the post author’s claim that there is supposedly a lack of Torah leadership meant to support the outlook of a public that sees itself as modern-Orthodox and aspires to changes in halakhah in the spirit of the times: as I see it, there is inflation in rabbinic leadership of this type, such as the rabbis of Tzohar, Beit Hillel—an attentive Torah leadership, Ne’emanei Torah Va’Avodah, Prof. Daniel Sperber, Malka Puterkovsky, the “Walking in Her Way” movement, and the author of the “trilogy”—each according to his own honor and stature. What is left for the baalei batim to do—innovate supposedly “halakhic” arguments against the halakhah as ruled by the great decisors of recent generations, when all the arguments calling for change are raised morning and evening in the media and on the internet?
With blessings, Sh. Tz. .
Now you are already mixing together dress codes of girls’ seminaries, with yeshiva regulations, with decisions of extreme Hasidic groups, into one huge colorful salad, and then calling it “halakhah.”
The one being disingenuous here is you, not me. For two reasons.
1. You know perfectly well that the haredim have a way of life not connected to halakhah at all (what they call “hashkafah”), which advocates complete separation from general culture, lots of “it’s not fitting,” and making fences around fences around fences.
Whether we like this way or not, nobody thinks it is connected to halakhah in any way. Nobody requires a halakhic argument in order to forbid television or to obligate voting for United Torah Judaism or Shas. It is an obligation because the gedolim said so, end of story.
This certainly has nothing to do with the question whether the decisor is a rabbi involved with the baalebatish public or a rosh yeshiva.
2. Throughout the generations there were giants of halakhic ruling who were not rabbis—the sages of the Gemara and Mishnah, Rambam and the Shulchan Arukh, the Vilna Gaon, the Mishnah Berurah, and so on and so on. And opposite them there were giants of halakhic ruling who were rabbis. Do you really think you can point to characteristic lines of these and those?!
At the end of the day, what bothers you is that you want to be lenient, so be lenient. There is no need to delegitimize the rulings of others.
That does not follow from my words, and I wrote nothing of the sort. I said that what the people signal can be taken into account and can bring about change. That does not mean that what the people practice is a reason to change. Absolutely not. Not every slackening is supposed to bring about halakhic change. Where did you see that in my words?
Even puk ḥazi mai ama devar does not mean that what the people practice is correct. What the people practice leads us to think again or to take it into account, and the conclusion we arrive at is the halakhah.
I will not continue this unnecessary discussion any further—just one small correction: I have not the slightest interest in being lenient. I was not talking here at all about leniency or stringency.
You are identifying a real phenomenon, but it seems to me deeper than that:
Precisely in light of the perspective of years, and deep familiarity with the world and with life, one understands that the problems are different, that the needs are different—not the precise debates about Jewish thought or these or those halakhic changes, but rather the very connection to Judaism, the very warmth and fear of Heaven, love of Torah, respect for Torah, the ability to educate toward it, identity and belonging (whose essence is emotional)—that is what people at these ages are looking for, more than precise content and precise arguments. Consequently, the sense of necessity and urgency around these polemics fades, and consequently there is greater sensitivity to other things that work on those levels.
So to call on baalei batim to change halakhot themselves, when they are not fit for that—not in terms of learning, not in terms of spiritual cleanliness, when so much of their lives is the secular world.
The role of the rabbinate and of education in such a world is entirely different, and from here the question of relevance to their world only intensifies.
Who called on baalebatim to change anything?
Indeed there is a problem of connection; the only question is—to what should one connect, and why is there no connection? One cannot shape an incorrect faith merely in order to connect people to it. That is Maimonides’ elephant parable. Nor is it right not to deal with the correct faith just because it does not bother people (even assuming you are right. And you are not).
With God’s help, 9 Adar 5780
Another thing that דווקא “householders,” who are constantly occupied with confronting questions of livelihood, health, and educating children—they see tangibly just how not simple life is. How the future cannot be clearly predicted and depends on a complex system of factors. Every plan a person devises does not succeed in “closing all the corners” completely, and is “open to changes” that are unforeseeable, and therefore a person needs—even after exhausting his paths of effort—to hope and pray for God’s kindness to complete things on his behalf.
Not for nothing did Rabbi Yoḥanan honor the “elders of Aram,” saying, “How many hardships have passed over them.” They are the ones who see how not simple life is and how much a person needs heavenly assistance at every single step.
With blessings, Sh. Tz.
With God’s help, 27 Adar 5780
And at this time, when everyone is stuck at home—the role of the householder is to be at home and with the home, to help and encourage, to teach and play, to see that everything comes into its place in peace, and to share his worries with his friends and teachers so that at home he can radiate confidence and calm.
With the blessing, “A sound of song and salvation is in the tents of the righteous,” Sh. Tz.
There is one thing you don’t take into account about the people in the fields—the length of what you write. I’m not saying this to needle you. I read you with interest, but if you were shorter and more focused, you would reach a larger non-lite (and lite) audience. Still, in any case, in the end what will be fulfilled regarding you by most yeshiva people is: “they make light of Rabbi Michael.”