On Free Will and Its Meaning (Column 354)
The criticism in ‘Tzarich Iyun’ reveals more than it dares to say
The column opens by praising the journal ‘Tzarich Iyun’ and its writers, who formulate brave internal criticism of Haredi society. But the rabbi argues that the setting forces caution, and at times even a case of ‘the heart does not reveal itself to the mouth’: they do not allow themselves to think or formulate the conclusions fully. He therefore reads Shpirer’s essay as a subversive, exposing reading: not to cancel out his courage, but to show that the critique presented as internal repair actually cuts at the foundations of Haredism.
Ordinary anusim versus the ‘coerced by reason’
The background is the phenomenon of Haredi ‘anusim’: people who live outwardly as Haredim but have lost religious or Haredi commitment and hide this from family and community. The rabbi recalls that in an earlier essay he focused on ‘the coerced by reason’ — believers and committed Jews who precisely through broad, independent reflection arrived at non-Haredi positions, yet still do not find a ready home in the religious-modern world. In his eyes they are more authentic and impressive than ordinary anusim, who sometimes remain out of fear, convenience, or lack of courage to draw conclusions. This distinction matters because the question of choice is not only about leaving religion but also about the ability to think differently within it.
Free choice is not just a larger menu of options, and Shpirer conflates the two
When Shpirer describes Haredi choice as binary — either Haredism or sin — the rabbi agrees that the Haredi world presents a black-and-white picture, but argues that he mixes together two different things: the very ability to see alternatives, and the encouragement to choose מתוך personal identification. In the rabbi’s view, Haredi society not only hides options; it denies choice on almost every level. Even the inability to know the scope of the anusim phenomenon grows out of that same culture of silencing, and he adds that similar pressures can exist in the opposite direction as well, for example in a secular environment. So the argument is not only about how many tracks may be presented, but about the very legitimacy of independent choice.
The suppressed alternative is not ‘Western liberalism’ but open religiosity
Shpirer repeatedly distances himself from ‘radical liberalism’ and asks only to introduce some degree of choice within the Haredi framework. The rabbi argues that this is a straw man: almost no society sanctifies self-realization without limits, and every society has core values that are not left to full personal choice. So the real alternative to Haredism is not Western anarchy but a more open or modern religiosity — an option Shpirer barely mentions. In the rabbi’s view, that omission is not accidental: once real choice enters the Haredi world, it stops being Haredi. That is why the essay wants to say two hundred and says only one hundred, perhaps out of external caution and perhaps out of an inner difficulty in formulating the conclusion.
From dress and profession to faith and mitzvot
In many places Shpirer speaks about dress, employment, music, seminaries, and social pressure around cultural matters. The rabbi agrees that the critique there is correct, especially the wrapping of communal norms in the aura of Torah from Sinai. But he stresses that Shpirer’s reasoning does not stop at those margins: if inner identification matters, the question applies just as much to Shabbat observance, faith, hiddur mitzvah, and Torah life as a whole. This yields the sharp question that the essay only hints at: if a faith is maintained because a person was never truly invited to examine alternatives, is it faith at all, and if mitzvot are done out of an inability to choose, are they really mitzvot? In the rabbi’s eyes, Shpirer hints that there is indeed a foundational problem here, but is unwilling to say it explicitly.
The price of non-choice is not only dropout, but double and alienated religiosity
When the essay turns to the ‘results of non-choice,’ the rabbi thinks the hidden argument comes to the surface. Shpirer describes lives of ‘two phones,’ one thing in the mouth and another in the heart, cynicism, bitterness, burying problems, and a sense of detachment from one’s values. He also asks what value coerced religiosity has, and suggests that fewer mitzvah-observant Jews with wholehearted commitment may be preferable to many more people who live under compulsion. The rabbi emphasizes that at this point the discussion is explicitly about the core of religious life, not only about cultural details. He therefore also questions the claim that most Haredim would remain the same without social pressure: if the identification itself was formed inside a closed system of coercion and hidden alternatives, it is hard to detach it from the pressure that produced it.
Choice is not ‘one more value’ but a condition for the meaning of religious action
From here comes the main conceptual criticism. Shpirer tries to say that free choice is not an absolute value but a limited one that must be balanced against other values. The rabbi argues that this is misleading: choice is not just another value competing with the others, but a condition for a religious or moral act to have value at all. If a person does ‘God’s will’ only because society decided for him, concealed alternatives, and made deviation nearly impossible, something essential is missing from the act itself. That is why Shpirer’s repeated qualifications — as if he were speaking only about a narrow and non-radical version of choice — do not fit his own reasoning.
The turkey parable and the conclusion: ‘open Haredism’ nearly empties the term
The column concludes that much internal Haredi criticism is not merely asking to improve Haredism but, if taken seriously, to dismantle its structure and replace it with a more open religious life. Even partial acceptance of choice in matters of dress, study, work, and culture seriously destabilizes Haredism; full acceptance of choice in faith, values, and mitzvot leaves very little of it standing. Rabbi Nachman’s turkey parable is used to mock the attempt to say that one can change almost everything — clothes, occupation, reading, army service, thought, and perhaps even the symbols — and still remain Haredi. In the rabbi’s view, this resembles attempts to speak of ‘secular Judaism’: a basic change of content while clinging to the same label. At the same time, he makes clear that the practical question — how religious education can allow real choice and what its limits should be — remains open for a different discussion.
“And behold, R.A. [=Ibn Ezra] is a faithful spirit who conceals a matter, while I, the talebearer, reveal his secret.”
(Ramban, Leviticus 16:8)
“Rabbi Yehuda ben Beteira said to him: ‘Akiva, either way you will ultimately be held to account: if, as you say, the Torah concealed it and you reveal it; and if not, you cast aspersions on that righteous man.’”
(Shabbat 96b)
“What is [the meaning of] ‘to the One who covers (Ancient of Days)’? This refers to one who covers matters that the Ancient of Days covered—and what are these? The secrets of the Torah. And some say: this refers to one who reveals matters that the Ancient of Days covered—and what are these? The reasons for the commandments.”
(Pesachim 119a)
A few days ago I was sent a paper by Moshe Shapira that discusses free will in Haredi society and the need to expand it a bit. I will begin by saying that the article was published in the journal Tzarikh Iyun (full disclosure: the editor, Rabbi Yehoshua Pfeffer, is a friend of mine), which gives expression to moderate critiques (at least in phrasing) from within Haredi society. There you can find articles by Haredi men and women writing about problematic points in the conduct of Haredi society—particularly regarding professional training, openness to the broader world, art and self-expression, the status of women, sectorialism, attitudes toward Israeli identity and secularism, Haredi leadership, activism and politics, “da’at Torah,” military service, attitudes to various fields of knowledge and occupations, and so on.
This is a refreshing and new phenomenon (preceded in spirit by the journal Adrabah) that, to my pleasant surprise, is gradually gaining a foothold in the Haredi world. In my impression it has not even met with the torrents of bans and criticism I would have expected toward such phenomena. Contrary to the norm, the writers in Tzarikh Iyun sign with their real names (as far as I understand) and write what is on their hearts on these sensitive topics. But it is easy to see that the platform and context oblige them to write moderately and cautiously, and despite the courageous critique I find there, in many cases it is hard to avoid the sense that what is being said does not fully express what the authors would like to say. I assume that sometimes this is caution toward the outside, but it seems quite clear to me that no less than that, there is also the phenomenon of “the heart is not revealed to the mouth” (a person does not allow themselves to seriously raise overly radical possibilities, even within their own thoughts). Moreover, most of the critiques that appear there are indeed presented as calls to correct from within, but in substance they undermine Harediness itself (see below).
Returning to the above article: although I of course fully identify with what he writes and also appreciate the courage to write it, as I read it these feelings were all the more aroused in me. I will try to demonstrate them here through a critical reading of his words. My critique should be read in this context: I will point to contortions, conceptual mixtures, and inconsistencies, and to the way he reveals a handbreadth while concealing two. Yet I think what wants to be said peeks quite clearly through the cracks even if there is an attempt to hide or blur it. Needless to say that with these revealed-concealed handbreadths I very much identify. Furthermore, I appreciate his courage, but I also criticize the fact that he does not carry it through to the end. In what follows I will try to show that those concealed handbreadths are not just my own wishes but are present between the folds of his words. Therefore I ask forgiveness from R. Moshe Shapira, a faithful spirit who conceals a matter, for my being the talebearer revealing his secret. To my judgment these secrets fall under the category of ta’amei Torah (reasons of the Torah) and not sitrei Torah (secrets of the Torah) (see the citation above from Pesachim).
Background: The Phenomenon of the “Anusim”
The background to the article was the film “Bamisstarim” (“In Secret”), about the phenomenon of Haredi “anusim” (compelled ones), which aired on television and put on the table the expanding phenomenon of men and women who conduct themselves and dress as Haredim but beneath that veneer there is a religious, or at least Haredi, vacuum. They call themselves “anusim,” since social pressures cause them to conceal their worldview and even their practical conduct, sometimes even from their extended family and even those in their own household. Some do not hold on (and some would say, muster the courage and take the necessary step) and after a time leave Haredi society; in many cases this creates a deep and painful rift in the extended family, and also in the nuclear family. For more on the phenomenon, see here.
I myself noted this phenomenon some ten or fifteen years ago in an article commissioned from me by the editorial board of the journal Hama’ayan, which the board ultimately decided not to publish for their own reasons.
Note: “Anusei Hattvunah” (“Compelled by Reason”)
My article dealt with the phenomenon of being “compelled,” but focused on a more specific shade of it, called there “Anusei Hattvunah” (the term comes from the people themselves, not from me). This is a group of people who think differently from their Haredi surroundings, with a much more open and expansive mode of thought, and naturally they conceal their views from their environment. This is in contrast to the usual “anusim” under discussion, namely members of the Haredi community who do not believe and are not committed to the commandments at all—i.e., secular people in Haredi wrapping. I only briefly touched on that there and more so elsewhere.
I will note that in my eyes the “Anusei Hattvunah” deserve great esteem and not only compassion, unlike the regular “anusim.” The regular “anusim” should in fact draw the conclusions and courageously leave the society—and many do not. Some also reached their conclusions not through systematic, intellectual inquiry and reading, but due to feelings and/or impulses, or perhaps a sense of distress, oppression, and mere narrow-mindedness. Of course one can understand the difficulty, and I certainly am not claiming that all religious and Haredi people arrived at their path through systematic study and inquiry, nor that among the “anusim” there are none who reached their state through thought and examination. Still, it is clear that the regular “anusim” bear significant contributory fault for their situation. If they disagree and do not find themselves—they should get up and go, despite the difficulties. By contrast, the “Anusei Hattvunah” whom I met and describe in the article are, for the most part, believing people who, through their intellectual and spiritual reflection and an independent, courageous effort of many years, have formed positions different from the Haredi conception in which they were raised, or at least amassed substantial doubts about it. These are believing and committed people who think differently. Beyond the fact that with them it is usually not a matter of impulse but of worldview, they also have no other affiliation group to which they can defect (in response to my questions they repeatedly said they do not find themselves in the religious-Zionist or modern-Orthodox world, for various reasons—some, in my opinion, simply due to lack of familiarity. Hence they always dreamed of the city of “Kedoshit,” which would constitute a Platonic ideal model of their socio-religious utopia). For these reasons they try to create such a group within the Haredi world and therefore also do not defect from it (not only out of fear). In this sense they are more authentic and far more impressive in my eyes than the regular “anusim.”
Back to the Article
After presenting the background, Shapira notes that the usual responses to the “anusim” are curses and bans, denial of the phenomenon’s very existence or, at best, of its scope, and at best—ignoring it. He argues that regardless of the extent and importance of the phenomenon or the appropriate response to it, Haredi society must draw conclusions from it about the importance of granting a person the ability to choose—even in a limited sense—and implement this within itself. There is no doubt he is right, but to sharpen my point I want to go a bit deeper into his arguments and their presentation, and I will do so in the order they appear. I think the continuation of the column is a chapter in subversive reading—that is, deconstruction in its positive sense. I will try to expose the concealed handbreadths from within the folds of the revealed handbreadth.
First, I will note the beginning of his words. Shapira comments there that he finds it hard to believe the scope of the phenomenon. It does not seem plausible to him that there are many who go to synagogue on Shabbat morning and at the same time desecrate Shabbat in secret. I too do not know the extent of the phenomenon, of course, but I do not know how he reached his numerical estimates. By the very nature of the phenomenon of “anusim,” its scope cannot be known. This, by the way, is itself one of the problems in a silencing society that does not allow discourse. Not only is the “compulsion” there problematic, but also the inability to discuss and understand it and its scope. Incidentally, the other side that appears in his words immediately thereafter expresses a lack of understanding or familiarity. A secular person who begins to believe in God will certainly face no simple difficulties, and it is quite possible that he too will conceal it and be “compelled.” True, there will not be sanctions against him as there are in the Haredi world, but the feeling and the attitude of the surrounding environment can be very unpleasant, and I have no doubt that there too there are “anusim.” Nathan Alterman’s song “The Little Cleric” is not a bad expression of this phenomenon (even if from another era). This is also true regarding right-wing opinions in left-leaning societies and circles (and to a lesser extent the reverse). There is clear testimony about this (among others from Yuval Steinitz, who during his tenure as a university lecturer set up a support group for right-wing intellectuals and academics).
But my main concern here is the question of choice that he recommends. Let us try to understand precisely what we are talking about: what is the existing situation and what alternative does he himself propose?
What Is “Haredi Choice”?
Shapira begins by saying that Haredi society does not really care whether its members observe the commandments out of identification and choice:
In Haredi education there appears to be no real value to a person’s choice. Our education educates to do: to keep Shabbat, to observe the commandments, to dress in a certain way, to send the children to these institutions and not to others. But within all this, do we care whether a person chooses this—i.e., identifies with his actions? Does it matter to us whether a person accepts the community’s norms out of desire or out of a sense of coercion? I fear the answer is negative.
He refers to performing these actions under compulsion and not by choice. Note that the list includes both Shabbat observance and mitzvah observance—halakhic norms that obligate any religious person—and also particular Haredi cultural norms (sending children to heder, to Haredi school and yeshivah, or Haredi dress). This mixing is very important, for later he qualifies the critique and focuses it only on the cultural layer, seemingly ignoring the importance of choice with regard to religiosity itself and the observance of the commandments.
He then writes:
The idea of free choice in Haredi education is not identical to the idea of choice that expresses inner will and identification. In Haredi education, a person has choice, but the range is binary: whether to accept the Haredi way of life or to deny it and sin. This concept of choice is very different from the secular principle of freedom of choice. In the general world, freedom of choice means opening horizons before a person’s will; a person’s will is free, and he is called upon to realize it as fully as possible. By contrast, in the Haredi world there is only one possible choice: to obey the community’s norms. Any other choice is illegitimate and is not even defined as choice, but as surrender to the temptation of the evil inclination.
Here his claim is that the Haredi world also recognizes the idea of choice, but only at the general level (whether to be Haredi or not) and not in shades and nuances—in modes of Haredi expression and outlook, etc. It is clear that the Haredi world does not allow either type of choice and, indeed, presents people with only two possibilities: Harediness or empty secularism. It is well known that in the Haredi world there is no serious consideration of other religious shades, and in that sense they are not presented as options. But it seems to me that this passage does not touch the question of choice but the presentation of the options before the chooser. Haredi society does not allow choice in anything—not whether to be Haredi or not, nor in anything else (except perhaps the breakfast menu or the sevara used to resolve R. Akiva Eiger’s question). In addition, as part of this, it presents the Haredi person with a distorted black-and-white picture of the surrounding world, but that too is part of the same trend of negating choice (for secularity is not an option, so there is no problem portraying it as the anti-Christ with whom one must contend). But the presentation of options and the encouragement to choose are two different aspects.
Throughout his piece Shapira mixes these two meanings of free choice: the number of options presented to a person, and encouraging the person to choose their own path out of identification. These are two entirely different meanings (even if related), yet consistently throughout his writing they appear blended. I do not know whether this is an innocent conceptual mistake or part of the contortion I will point out below.
Now comes a first qualifying passage:
It is important to stress already here that although I relate critically to the absence of the value of choice in Haredi education, I do not think we should adopt the radical liberal idea that the only value meant to guide a person is self-realization, and that this value grants equal weight to every human choice, with no possibility of objectively preferring one way of life over another. I emphasize the difference between the Haredi world and the Western world, but between these polar options there are also middle paths. In my view, one can adopt certain aspects of the value of choice, even within a framework that educates that keeping Torah and commandments leads a person to the best life, and that obedience to God’s will is not voluntary but an absolute obligation. The Jewish idea of ‘acting for its own sake’ expresses appreciation for a person’s personal identification with his actions and for a deep belief that he is doing what is right in God’s eyes, and not only in man’s eyes—that is, for action that stems from a person’s inner will. In other words, one who gives up his will because of the divine command is a choosing person—provided that the recognition that this is God’s will is his own recognition, and not that others recognized it in his stead without his identifying with it.
The depiction of radical liberalism as if its sole value were self-realization is a distorted description. I do not think there is such a society in the world. On the contrary, some declare such statements but do not in fact act in accordance with them. Almost no one in the world encourages people to choose a path of contract killing out of identification and self-realization. Every society in the world has a given set of values not handed over to the choice of the individual, but only to the decision whether to act by them (and be righteous) or not (and be wicked). The definition of righteous and wicked is general in every society I know.[1] Therefore what he writes here is not a distinction between Harediness and the Western world, but between Harediness and a more open religiosity—but of course he does not wish to present that.
Beyond this, while reading the passage I wondered where the modern-religious shades are in his discussion. They do not appear as an option at all, and this is very strange in an article that criticizes the black-and-white presentation common in the Haredi world. But I think this is not accidental, for introducing choice into the Haredi world would, in effect, make it non-Haredi. There is no such creature as a Haredi world with genuine choice. A Haredi with choice is some shade of modern (or liberal) religious Jew. I think Shapira senses, at least intuitively, the flaw in his critique of the Haredi world. In what he proposes, he is in effect suggesting its dissolution, not its improvement—but this cannot be written, so he prefers to set up a fictitious alternative and fight it.[2] Incidentally, in my impression (supported also by acquaintance), among those who leave the Haredi community, there is a negligible minority who choose a different religiosity; most move to full secularism. This is one of the prices of the black-and-white picture presented to the Haredi person, and Shapira himself is captive to this conception, perhaps unwittingly.
Also in the second part of the passage there is a mixture of two different things. On the one hand, he writes that he does not recommend radical freedom of choice—that is, one that relates to the very observance of the commandments and religious identity. Only within that framework does he propose speaking about different shades that should be chosen among out of identification and not coercion. Yet he concludes with the value of choice regarding any ethical action, including the observance of commandments and God’s will. So does he support encouraging choice at this fundamental level as well, or not? Is observing commandments not out of choice acceptable, and only choosing a religious shade without choice is valueless? Why? Either our actions should be done out of choice, or not. Again, I sense here contortion—a dissonance between what is written and what one would like to write. This may stem from fear of “the evil eye” (and then it is conscious), or from “the heart is not revealed to the mouth” (and then it is not conscious).
Immediately thereafter he brings a few examples from the secular world in which there is an option to choose a personal lifestyle:
The absence of the value of choice at the conceptual level is expressed in practice in a very narrow range of choices. Before the Haredi person there is a very limited selection of life styles. The Haredi man is educated that there is only one proper path: study in yeshivah and kollel. There are other life styles, but they are not considered proper, and in many cases one who chooses them will be considered to have deviated from the royal road, a “fringe” person.[1] Until recently, the Haredi girl had two options: to be a homemaker or (in addition) to go into teaching. Today there are indeed additional ‘tracks’ in the seminaries, but it is hard to say that they reflect an autonomous choice of a different lifestyle.[2] In the Western world, by contrast, from a very young age children are encouraged to develop a personal style. Each child is supposed to develop a personal hobby, a unique musical taste, and a preferred sport. Later, various life styles and fashions are open before a person through which he is supposed to express his character and cultural preferences. The employment options before him also express a choice of lifestyle. A person can choose a musical career, become a hi-tech worker, or turn to academic research. Of course, not all options are open before every person, but the social ideal is to allow each person as broad a range of choice as possible.
Note that this concerns dress, music, occupation, and other minor matters. From this one could understand that his critique deals mainly with Haredi dress and music and not with belief itself and religious commitment. Yet above, the concealed handbreadths already peeked out, dealing also with choice regarding belief itself and observance of the commandments, and certainly regarding the mode of observance and religious way of life (and not only neutral cultural choices). Again, it is easy for him to focus on topics where the critique may be accepted, or at least not excommunicated, but it is clearly apparent that his intention is also to the concealed handbreadths and not only to the visible buds and blossoms.
He then proceeds to discuss the means of social pressure customary in the Haredi world, and there he focuses the discussion even more on cultural conduct (dress, employment, etc.), again completely ignoring the more essential choices withheld from the Haredi person. He complains that such pressures on marginal issues are cloaked in a religious mantle and are presented as if they were Sinai-given Torah and that one who deviates from them denies the fundamentals of faith. He is of course right, but what about the prevention of choice in matters that truly are fundamentals of religion (belief and commandments)? In his view, do actions in that realm that are not done out of choice lack value? There is no importance to choice there?
If one believes or observes commandments only because one does not dare to weigh and examine their true position on these matters—does that faith have any value? Is it even faith? Are such commandments truly commandments? Shapira hints more than once that in his view the answer is negative, but this is not explicitly expressed anywhere in his words. On the contrary, the qualifying passages that recur again and again (the revealed handbreadth) attempt to claim the opposite. Seemingly he presents a picture of an ideal society that is Haredi in its character and halakhic education but flexible in matters of dress and occupation, etc. Without entering the question of whether this is even possible (see my critique above of Rabbi Pfeffer’s article), does he truly mean this? To me it is clear that he does not. But if not, in what sense will the ideal society he describes and proposes remain Haredi?
Then comes the second qualifying passage:
This does not mean that Haredim belong to their communities against their will, as perhaps the propaganda around the issue of the “anusim” hints. Most Haredim identify with the core values of Haredi Judaism, which are a life of faith and meticulous observance of Torah and commandments. In all likelihood, they would continue to keep Shabbat and eat kosher even if we removed from them all the levers of social pressure. Haredim do not turn on the bathroom light on Shabbat, even when no one sees, and they will not even secretly tear toilet paper there. Those who do not believe that keeping Torah and commandments is a good way of life usually leave Haredi society and do not continue to live a double life like those “anusim.” Still, the phenomenon of the “anusim” exposes the price of the absence of education for choice in our society. Haredi social pressure has become such a significant force that even those who have entirely lost faith in the path continue to belong to it for reasons of mere convenience. Is this how we want a life of faith to look?
I am not entirely sure about his assessments, but beyond the factual dispute I wonder what that identification he is certain exists is worth if it itself is created as a result of pressures, coercion, and lack of options. Does he think there is a genetic difference between Haredi society and other societies? Why is it that there, religious commitment exists irrespective of pressures, and in other societies it somehow does not arise or is less enduring? Is this not related to social pressures? Note that at the end of the passage he again speaks explicitly about pressure to observe commandments (and not only to wear Haredi clothing), and he wonders whether we would want a society whose members belong to it because of pressure. But what about the ideal society he proposes, in which there would ostensibly be precisely such pressure regarding observance of commandments together with flexibility regarding marginal cultural aspects—would he want to belong to such a society? In light of the hints within the text I dare guess not, and therefore I permitted myself to reveal his secret.
“The Results of Non-Choice”
Under this heading Shapira asks what is so bad about a situation in which there is no choice. Will this dissolve Haredi society? Is social pressure an effective tool for preserving the Haredi framework? (The answers of course depend on the scope of the “anusim” and dropouts—this being the best-kept secret in the country.) But these are instrumental questions (that see choice as a tool to achieve other goals). Immediately thereafter he moves to the more important plane: the intrinsic value of choice, regardless of results. He discusses this on the psychological-emotional plane and on the ethical-religious plane. I will cite his words:
On the psychological level, the absence of education for personal choice leads to inauthenticity, to one thing in the mouth and another in the heart, to sweeping problems under the rug due to social pressure, to frustration and to a sense of disconnect from the values by which a person lives. We must honestly admit that such phenomena are indeed common in our society and far more widespread than the phenomenon of the “anusim.” Take, for example, the familiar norm of “two cell phones.” Are people who keep two phones not a kind of “anusim”? These people live double lives and do not identify with the behavior they strictly maintain for appearances’ sake. Such double lives beget cynicism and bitterness and, to put it mildly, do not contribute to a person’s happiness and emotional stability.
One might argue nevertheless: we are willing to tolerate the psychological difficulty so long as we succeed in preventing dropping out and complete abandonment of religion. Here the ethical-religious aspect enters. What benefit is there in coerced religiosity? Does God desire burnt offerings and sacrifices? Will He be elevated by the pleasing aroma of a kollel student who is forced to attend the Minchah-Ma’ariv service to hold his marriage together? Is it not preferable to have fewer people who espouse religious values with a whole heart and willing spirit than many whose heart is not with them? Moreover, when we place at the center of the question those who would leave religion if the levers of pressure were removed, we forget the enormous price paid by those who stay, and even more so, by those who loathe Harediness precisely because of the absence of choice. Social pressure causes high-quality, sensitive, and refined people to be emotionally expelled from Harediness and to live their lives at a high but cold and forced religious level. The psychological distancing resulting from the absence of education for choice is expressed in the religious life of every person in society, and it turns religious life itself into an alienated matter with which the person does not feel personal identification. A person’s cynicism does not stop with his attitude toward acceptance mechanisms in seminaries; it is ultimately directed at meticulousness in mitzvot themselves—at the long tzitzit of one kollel student and the particularly mehudar etrog of some Hasid.
Also in terms of the honor of Heaven and the honor of those who keep religion there is an advantage. The Haredi way of life, and meticulousness in commandments and fear of Heaven, will be considered of much higher value once they are no longer a badge of submission to communal norms. Moreover, the very assumption that if choice were possible the masses would stream beyond the borders of Harediness is an assumption of weakness that greatly belittles the ideological and cultural assets that Harediness has to offer. Hence perhaps the call should indeed go out that the efforts devoted to preventing breaches in the wall of religion be devoted instead to lighting candles of wisdom and warmth within the home. Such a change of direction will lead to a situation in which no person who desires life will wish to leave the Torah, and we will not need to be on guard to prevent dropping out by force.
If so, he is indeed speaking about choice also in observing commandments and in foundational values, and not only in the margins of cultural questions such as dress, etc.
It is no surprise that immediately another qualifying paragraph arrives:
It is important to emphasize: I do not see freedom of choice as an absolute value that overrides other values. In its extreme version, the authenticity of the choice is the principal yardstick for the quality of any way of life. This approach contradicts the belief that the Torah teaches a person the best way of life. Nonetheless, I think that faith in the Torah does not contradict the value of choice in a narrower sense that ascribes importance to a person’s inner agreement and sees a lack of perfection in good deeds done due to external coercion. This kind of choice not only does not contradict heeding the Torah’s command, it can even lead to it. Only a person who seeks inner truth will strive to understand what God really wants from him and what is really the right thing to do, even when there is no social pressure upon him to do so. A person who longs with all his heart to fulfill God’s will is a choosing person—provided that he himself sees a certain action as God’s will, and does not do it merely because obscure forces have decided that God’s will is that girls wear skirts of this fabric and not another.
This contortion I could no longer understand. He speaks about the fact that ethical conduct that is not done out of choice is valueless, and then qualifies by saying that his words concern a qualified sense of choice and not the radical version (which he earlier, mistakenly, called Western liberalism). What is that qualified sense? He speaks here explicitly also about choice regarding the very religious-Haredi way of life itself, including observance of commandments and belief. If even regarding this one must grant free choice, where are the qualifications? In what sense is the choice he proposes not radical?
Moreover, even conceptually and logically there is great confusion here. For even according to him, choice is not a value among other values. Choice is a condition for the value of values; i.e., one who does not choose a given value is not upholding it (there is no value to his ethical conduct). Therefore all his language that speaks of choice as a value, and the comparison between it and other values, is simply confusion—or yet another contortion for the reasons presented above.
He concludes that granting freedom of choice is worth the instrumental price (since choice is not only an instrumental value):
I do not ignore the fact that there will be prices that Haredi society will have to pay in order to allow the value of choice and personal identification to exist. Without doubt, Haredi society will not remain in its current form if it adopts these values. In today’s Haredi Judaism, keeping religion and the integrity of the community take precedence over the value of the individual’s choice, with all that this implies. Nonetheless, it is imperative to consider the high price of the absence of choice—a price exacted both from those who do not withstand the pressure and from those who do withstand it, but it robs them of fervor and inner identification. Awareness of this price is a necessary preliminary stage before any further attempt to strengthen the community’s levers of pressure.
In the end I came out truly confused. On the one hand, again and again he explains that his proposal is not to grant complete and fundamental choice in everything (not Western liberalism, God forbid), but only choice among limited shades within the Haredi framework. On the other hand, his rationale is one that applies equally to the core of the religious-Haredi way of life itself, and he even writes this explicitly several times between the lines.
Had I thought this was mere confusion or inattention, I would have kept silent. I do not intend to quibble and split hairs in his words as one would with the language of Scripture or the Rambam, and it is neither right nor honest to do so. We all err and sometimes present things inconsistently. But in my view these contortions and contradictions stem from the constraints I described above, and are typical of the overwhelming majority of articles in the journal in question. It is clearly apparent that the author wants two hundred but says only one hundred. He reveals a handbreadth and conceals two—whether consciously or unconsciously. I think it is important to expose this, if only to reveal to the mouth what was in the heart.
It is important to make clear to people that critiques of this sort do not come to repair Harediness but to abolish it at the root, and in effect to call upon people to adopt an open religious way of life. Incidentally, even if one adopts only the revealed handbreadth of Shapira’s critique—choice only regarding external features—the danger to Harediness is very great (not for nothing do Haredim take care not to allow even that). But if one adopts the concealed handbreadths as well, nothing remains of Harediness but a heap of bones. You surely understand that in my eyes this is not an accusation but a description. Each person can determine their attitude to this description according to their own view.
Incidentally, these contortions remind me of the attempts to define a secular Judaism—even though if you remove halakhah from Judaism, you are left with a heap of bones (see my series of columns 336–9). This does not at all prevent various thinkers from engaging in abundant casuistry to define secular Judaism. The same is true of defining “open Harediness.” The “open Haredim” learned from secular Jews to ignore logic and to engage in words. A very typical (and irritating) phenomenon in our postmodern world.
Closing Chord
In Rabbi Nachman’s well-known story of “The Turkey” (listen also to Hanan Ben Ari’s delightful song), the king’s son went mad and thought he was a turkey (hindik). He took off his clothes, crawled naked under the table, and ate grains, as Jewish turkeys do. The sage who tries to cure him also goes naked under the table and eats grains with him for a while. Then the healing process begins:
Then the sage signaled to the household to throw them shirts. The sage, the “turkey,” said to the prince: “Do you think a turkey cannot walk with a shirt? One can be dressed in a shirt and still be a turkey! For in one place I saw turkeys wearing shirts.” And both of them put on shirts.
After some time he signaled and they threw them pants as well. The sage also said to him: “Do you think with pants one cannot be a turkey?! etc.” until they put on the pants, and likewise the other clothes. Thereafter he signaled and they threw them human food from the table, and he said to him: “Do you think that if one eats good foods one is no longer a turkey?! One can eat and still be a turkey.” And they ate.
Then he said to him: “Do you think a turkey must be specifically under the table?! One can be a turkey and be at the table!” And so he treated him until he completely cured him.
The moral is understood to the discerning.
What Shapira is essentially saying is that a Haredi can wear colorful clothes, go to work, study any academic field, wear a knitted kippah, engage in art, read all literature and scholarly material, think freely, live in a settlement, serve in the army, and choose all his paths and values—and still remain Haredi. Just like the turkey. Likewise say our liberal Jewish colleagues, who explain to us that even without halakhah you can be considered a Jew. Happy is he who believes…
To complete the picture, one must of course have a discussion of the substance as well. Is it really possible to allow genuine choice in religious education—choice that encompasses the foundational values and not only what to wear, what to do for a living, and what to read? The question is also from what age and in what forms? And how does one contend with impulses? And what about the harms? I have addressed this more than once in the past, but this is not the place.
[1] See on this in the fourth notebook in vol. 3, in the discussion around the words of Ari Elon.
[2] A similar critique can be found in my article in the same journal on my friend Rabbi Pfeffer’s piece, “Toward a Haredi Middle Class” (3 Sivan 5777).
Discussion
In other words, he is writing about people under duress while he himself is under duress.
With God’s help, 9 Tevet 5781
In my humble opinion, the right approach is to find the “golden mean” that balances the need for a sense of freedom in one’s path, chosen מתוך understanding and identification, with the fear of breaching every boundary; that is, to allow broad freedom of choice within basic sector boundaries.
After all, within the people of Israel there is a variety of paths in serving God: Hasidim and Lithuanians, Ashkenazim and Sephardim, and many shades and sub-streams, all of which are considered worthy and recognized paths in the service of God, since all accept the Thirteen Principles of Faith and commitment to halakhah built upon the words of the Talmud and our early and later sages.
I do not need to care whether my son follows in the footsteps of “my beit midrash” or goes in one of the paths taken by other great Torah scholars. It is entirely possible that the father will be Hasidic and his son Lithuanian, or a student of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, or someone who follows the way of the Sephardim, and of course vice versa. Each has its own unique emphases and proportions, and what suits one person does not necessarily suit another.
I have already said, half-jokingly, that “datlash” should not mean “formerly religious” but “religious in a way that matches a different path.” Let us study all the approaches and understand their reasons and rationales—even if in practice we decide for ourselves in accordance with a particular approach that seems more correct or more suitable for us—at any rate, understanding the opposing approach will make it easier for us to relate patiently and respectfully to those who follow it, so that disagreement does not turn into estrangement and hostility.
Regards, Yaron Fishel Corinaldi
This week I read a passage in one of Rabbi Baruch Ashlag’s books (the son of the author of HaSulam) in which he writes that even someone who observes Torah and mitzvot out of fear of the surrounding society, and even though he is aware that this is the reason he observes Torah and mitzvot and therefore, in his view, he is not serving God but external society, this is still called serving God, only in hester panim—divine hiddenness. That is, God is hidden within the external society that he is ostensibly serving. I assume this is probably because he is still observing Torah and mitzvot by choice—the choice to continue remaining in that society—because there is always choice, and also because it is a choice based on considerations of convenience (which is somewhat similar to ordinary considerations of reward and punishment)—except that this is still serving God, though in hiddenness and not for its own sake. Therefore he should always rejoice in what he has, because that is the basis for further progress.
If a person would observe even if there were no fear of the surrounding society, then why should the fact that there is fear (and even if he would indeed observe because of fear even if he were not God-fearing) be considered to detract from anything? The introduction to Eglei Tal.
In addition, from my experience this discussion is pointless. Usually, if one talks with Haredim about such matters, I always detect a look of opacity in their eyes and on their faces—they do not even begin to understand what I am saying. It is a kind of autism (which characterizes leftists to the same degree). It is as though certain words pass by their ears without being heard. From their point of view, it is simply a different language. This is not an accusation, just a description of reality. These “coerced ones” are in fact no longer really Haredi, simply by virtue of the fact that they already do speak my language. But for that very same reason they will never be able to communicate with and change the society around them. They have already developed beyond it. It is like a youth (I deliberately did not say an adult) trying to communicate in his own language with a child. It is simply impossible. With a child you speak in an adapted language (just as Haredim and religious people speak with secular Jews about Torah matters; there the secular Jews are precisely the “captured infants”). This whole dream of abolishing Haredi society is impossible. There will always be new children, and from among them new adolescents will always grow, but the numbers will not change. All the rest of the discussion about these coerced ones (what clothes they will wear, where they will live, where they will educate their children) is empty sociology. In fact, they are lacking one last stage of maturation from the childish stage—the realization that they are no longer Haredi because of this very discussion itself. What remains unspoken by them is that for a Haredi, the most important thing is the Haredi brand. It does not matter even if it is empty of content. The concern with this empty sociology is the last childish stage. I just do not understand why the rabbi cares about this so much.
That is the hester panim here. He does not know that in the end he would observe even without fear. He is not aware that everything he is doing right now is by his own choice. He really is serving God (not for its own sake), only he thinks he is serving society. The fear does not detract. It is simply the lowest level of serving God, from which one begins (the category of fear of God of “women and children,” in Maimonides’ terms). There are four stages in this (corresponding to the four sefirot: Malkhut, Tiferet, Binah, and Chokhmah): hiddenness within hiddenness (double hiddenness), one hiddenness (the “back side”), repentance out of fear (revelation of the Face in God’s providence over him alone), repentance out of love (revelation of the Face in God’s providence over the rest of the world as well, beyond him).
With God’s help, 9 Tevet 5781
To Emanuel and Morenu—greetings,
A fighter in the Sayeret Matkal unit reaches situations of seemingly impossible strain and hardship, and withstands them because of fear and social pressure. He knows that if he does not stretch his powers and do things even when he has no strength or desire to do them, he will be thrown out of the unit. But the very decision to volunteer for the unit came from a deep recognition of its value and importance.
And so too in serving God: the general choice of the path comes from recognition and a strong inner desire. Fear and social pressure are only the means that help one persist on the path despite the day-to-day difficulties. But without a strong inner recognition underlying the choice of the path, no pressure or coercion will help. Without inner recognition, a person will break and leave.
Regards, Yaron Fishel Ordner
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…who reaches situations of seemingly impossible strain and hardship—and withstands them because of fear and social pressure. …
Emanuel, this seems to me like pointless casuistry.
Morenu, you are absolutely right. Who said otherwise?
These words of Rabbi Ashlag are highly relevant for someone seeking gilui panim—revelation of the Face (that is, to see God’s providence—that is, how for observing commandments he gets reward and how for transgressing sins he gets punishment. In that context, hester panim means that the Holy One, blessed be He, does not act justly toward one who keeps Torah and mitzvot. Double hiddenness is someone who does not think at all that there is a Holy One, blessed be He, or that there is justice and a Judge at all, and that everything is mere chance. So according to that, the rabbi himself is in single hiddenness—not that I know, but that is what follows from his words). It is simply a finer resolution than the level the rabbi usually deals with (the rabbi does not care about reward and punishment). For someone who does not want to live in this darkness—and there is not a single Haredi who would not identify with what I am saying—these things are really not pointless casuistry.
Correction in the third line: “Double hiddenness is someone who does not think at all that there is a Holy One, blessed be He, or that there is justice and a Judge at all, and that everything is chance.”
By the way, from Rabbi Ashlag it appears that this is not talking about someone under duress who does not believe in God at all, but rather about someone who believes in God but thinks (this really is how he feels privately) that the reason he observes commandments is only fear of society, and otherwise he would not observe because he does not have enough fear of Heaven. So Rabbi Ashlag wanted to say that even in such a case he is serving God. It is not clear to me whether he was speaking about someone who does not believe at all.
Ahem, it’s no great feat to be right when I used what I remembered you had written elsewhere.
With God’s help, 9 Tevet 5781
To Emanuel—greetings,
The direction you propose in interpreting Rabbi Ashlag’s words—that this is speaking of a person who believes in God, but needs fear of society in order to withstand difficulties and urges that might prevent him from serving God—I suggested above in my comment “Between Emanuel and ‘Morenu’ — fear of society is not the main reason”).
This direction is also supported by the words “he thinks that he is not serving God,” indicating a feeling of guilt accompanying the person lest all his service is not really “for its own sake” but only for the sake of society. One should remember that Rabbi Ashlag came from a society of Polish Hasidim in which the heritage of Peshischa-Kotzk, which strongly condemned external religious performance, was very powerful; and against this tendency Rabbi Ashlag came and strengthened even the person who also needs motivation “not for its own sake,” so that he should not lose heart and should still see himself as “serving God in hiddenness.”
However, in my humble opinion one can think of an additional direction: that even a person subject to severe doubts of faith, and perhaps even in a state where his intellect tells him that the odds are that faith is not correct, and nevertheless he persists in serving God despite the strong intellectual skepticism because of fear of society—this too would be called “serving God in hiddenness,” for the very desire to remain in religious society stems from some dim feeling that perhaps there is nevertheless something true here.
For if he were one hundred percent certain that it was all vanity and a striving after wind, he would gather courage and leave openly. His desire nevertheless to remain “inside” indicates a dim spark of faith, or at the very least a safek sefeika—a double doubt—that perhaps it is nevertheless true, and on that possibility he observes.
A similar reasoning was once cited by Aharon in the name of Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach: that one may fulfill one’s obligation with the blessing of someone who declares that he does not believe, since by the very performance of the commandment the doer expresses some element of doubt that perhaps the words of the Torah are nevertheless true, and even a small percentage of faith is “something.”
It would have been good had you noted the source for Rabbi Ashlag’s words that you cited, because then it would have been possible to see them in their original context.
Regards, Yaron Fishel Ordner
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…Aharon once cited (in the discussion of “labor done on Shabbat by a deist”) the words of Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, who ruled that one may…
At the end the rabbi mentioned that he wrote elsewhere about educating for openness (the question of age and level). Where is that? I did not find anything detailed.
The source is in Shlavei HaSulam, Festivals: “What does it mean that the Hanukkah lamp is placed on the left in the service?”
By the way, regarding the blessing of an atheist: my father is not a religious man. He originally comes from a left-wing kibbutz family. And in general he declares that he is an atheist (although he does believe in a kind of karma, in reward and punishment for morality). At first, when he would come stay with me, I would give him a kippah and ask him to make the blessing, and he would indeed do so willingly. But I always thought this was a joke and a farce. At my brother’s bar mitzvah too, he was called up to the Torah, and I did not know whether this whole thing was not taking God’s name in vain (except that he would have been offended, and I did not know what to do about it). Over the years I stopped asking him to make blessings, relying on a responsum by Rabbi Zvi Yanir somewhere online, who wrote exactly what I had thought. But I continued serving him food, relying on a ruling of Rabbi Auerbach that one may give food to a secular Jew even if he will not make a blessing, out of concern for hatred (lest one violate the prohibition “You shall not hate”). But I still have doubts about this. It is clear to me that Rabbi Ovadia’s rulings that one may call a public Sabbath desecrator up to the Torah are based on the reality he knew of Sephardim, who always believe in God and the Torah even if they publicly desecrate Shabbat (there are no atheist Sephardim, only at most traditionalists). But perhaps he would not have said this about secular atheists who believe in nothing at all. But Rabbi Shlomo Zalman was Ashkenazi. Yet perhaps he too was Haredi and maybe really did not understand and know the reality of modern people who really are capable of not believing in God.
But on the other hand, my father is still an enigma to me. Every so often, without noticing, he blurts out “with God’s help” when he wants to wish defeat on his personal enemies (like Bibi when he spoke about the coronavirus on television). He goes to meetings of Arachim (mainly for the food and the company, but the content also interests him) and of Chabad. And when he invites me there, he does not understand my aversion to those places (“shallow religiosity,” I tell him, but he keeps going. My philosophy does not interest him. Well, if he were a physicist, maybe it would). He is an engineer by training, but for some reason the level of what they say does not grate on his ears. Is he really that naïve (I suspect maybe all secular people are like that) that the rulings of Rabbi Auerbach and Rabbi Ovadia would apply to him? Might there perhaps be value in their blessings and being called up to the Torah under the law of education? After all, they are “captured infants.” Can it really be that the Jewish spark causes their blessings to have significance if they want to say them for some reason? God alone has the answers. I do not know, but I feel that this whole matter is deeper than Rabbi Michi presents it.
I can testify, as someone who taught bar mitzvah boys to read maftir and haftarah, that in terms of their conception of Torah, secular people (including Ashkenazi academics) are indeed like children: they do not distinguish between the essential and the secondary; moreover, for them the secondary is essential and the essential is secondary. They come for Kol Nidrei and for the shofar blast at Neilah, but not for the blasts of Rosh Hashanah. They keep the Yom Kippur fast but desecrate Shabbat, although the sanctity of Shabbat is greater than the sanctity of Yom Kippur, and so on and so forth. I always said they should not celebrate a bar mitzvah because in fact it is a “bar-transgression.” But they really are like children, so precisely on educational grounds there is value in it, and it does end up being a bar mitzvah after all.
On the importance of education for openness—see column 265, “The ‘Lev Tahor’ Sect as a Parable.”
Regards, Simcha Fishel Plankton
With God’s help, 9 Tevet 5781
To Emanuel—greetings,
Whereas the physicist deals with abstract theoretical principles, the engineer looks for practical application in the real world, seeking to make the world more efficient and comfortable.
So too in the world of faith. The physicist will seek principles, while the engineer will prefer that which uplifts the spirit and makes a person a better and happier human being.
At the level of principle, Shabbat is more important than Yom Kippur and the shofar blowing of Rosh Hashanah is more important than the blowing at Neilah, but in terms of the shaking effect on a person’s soul, Yom Kippur “does it,” especially the ceremonies of Kol Nidrei and the closing hour.
Your father is a “captured infant” among the Hasidim, while you are a “captured infant” among the Lithuanians 🙂 Go out and complement one another.
Regards, Yaron Fishel Corinaldi
I do not understand the first thing about Haredi sociology, but I am very skeptical about the true scope of the various phenomena of the coerced. Look at the election results in Modi’in Illit: 96.67% for outright Haredi parties (Shas, Agudat Yisrael, Eli Yishai) in the 20th Knesset, 97.57% for Shas-Agudat Yisrael in the 21st Knesset, 97.98% in the 22nd Knesset, 98.32% in the 23rd Knesset. Alone, behind the curtain, they choose Rabbi Chaim Kanievsky and Rabbi Shalom Cohen. That is what they want.
Or perhaps economically they need it?
To Nadav, man of the myriads—great greetings,
One percent of a million souls is ten thousand, no small number and one worthy of attention,
With many regards, the great scribe
That is far from being an indication. First, quite a few do not vote at all. I assume that those who are under duress generally are not especially interested in who gets into the Knesset. Beyond that, quite a few coerced people will vote for the Haredi parties because they need funding for the kollel and for the family, and also because they are coerced of the sort whose heart does not reveal itself to the mouth. There are different levels of coercion, and most of them are on the spectrum. Only a small minority already declare to themselves that they are not in the business at all.
Another point: even though I too am “very skeptical” about the scope of the phenomenon (without real evidence or indications), one should say that set against the meager gain of voting for some other party stands the fear of stirring up hornets’ nests. If in a certain polling station in a Hasidic neighborhood they see that there are suddenly a few too many votes for Lapid, Likud, or Meretz, the rumor may spread and every talebearer will go about until they suspect the man behind the mask. Even if this is a remote concern, it is no more remote than the chance of influence of a single vote.
It should be noted that some of those who have lost confidence in the Haredi leadership also have no confidence in other sectors. That is one reason they do not move over to the secular or religious-Zionist sector either, since they do not trust those as well; and for the same reason they will not vote for any party. We saw several of this type who got excited about “Zehut”…
On the other hand, there is also reason to think that the phenomenon may not be as widespread as it appears. In the world of internet discussions, the “coerced by reason,” as they call themselves, are very prominent. In online discussions, when they are hiding behind a “nick,” they pour out their rage against the Torah and those who bear it with noteworthy boldness 🙂 and there their presence is very conspicuous. Someone at peace with his Haredi identity—even if he goes online—will not find any interest in participating in stormy discussions. It may therefore be that this whole “coerced” uproar is just a “storm in a spiritual teacup” 🙂
Regards, Yerubaal Avi-Sukah Tzufyuf-Searchensky
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…In the world of internet discussions, the “coerced by reason,” as they call themselves, are very prominent. When they…
With God’s help, eve of the Tenth Fast, 5781
In truth, it makes no difference whether we are speaking of many or of few. Every person is an entire world, and even for the few who abandon the path of faith, an appropriate educational response must be found.
How much more so when we are dealing with talented people who could have grown into great scholars of Torah and faith—had they merited receiving the spiritual nourishment suited to their personality. This is something that those steering education must take to heart, “that none be banished from him.”
Not for nothing does specifically the Tenth Fast, which is only “the beginning of calamity,” receive special stringency. A process that may develop into a serious problem must be diagnosed already in its earliest stages, and given the proper response from the outset, when it is far easier to halt the slide.
Regards, Yaron Fishel Ordner
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…the need for a sense of choice in the path…
Perhaps the need to combine intellectual inquiry together with emotional service is hinted at in the prophet’s tidings to Immanuel: “Butter and honey shall he eat.” The butter expresses intellectual inquiry, which nourishes a person’s spirit, while the honey expresses the sweetness of good feeling, which is also vital for gladdening the heart.
Regards, Simcha Fishel Plankton Halevi
Some serve out of fear of Heaven
and some serve out of fear of the neighbors
With God’s help, Friday eve, and his soul is bound up with his soul, 5781
One of the reasons for the phenomenon of the “coerced,” who inwardly are outside but remain inside, is the fear of total estrangement from the family if they leave the Haredi world. One should remember that the great leaders of our generations—both Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook and the Chazon Ish, and many others—instructed people to maintain affectionate ties even toward sons who had left religion completely.
Our generation is a generation of ferment and searching. Someone who dared to seek his path “outside” may also come to his senses and seek his way back within eternal Judaism. One must be careful not to burn the bridges through hostility. If we believe that one can be corrupted, we must believe that one can also be repaired.
The brothers, who thought Joseph was fundamentally corrupted and beyond remedy except by removing him permanently from the home, were put to the test when it seemingly was proved to them that Benjamin was a thief, and nevertheless Judah was prepared to give up his freedom in order to bring Benjamin home. The brothers internalized that even a rebellious son is not cast out of the home, and then they discovered that the one they had thought to be “rebellious” was the “one separated from his brothers.”
Regards, Amiuz Yaron Schnitzler
In the Haredi sector it is clear that a person’s only choice is whether to belong to it, with all the implications of that (the surrender of free choice), for that is precisely what Haredi-ness is—the preservation of the community at the expense of the individual—or to decide not to belong. One cannot decide to belong to the Haredi sector while equally wanting the Haredi sector not to be Haredi.
To my mind, the central question is whether the method works at all, and whether other methods are preferable, and I will explain:
After all, Haredi-ness arose as a defense against the Enlightenment, but along with it other methods arose as well, such as the method of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (not to mention Reform Judaism, etc.). One needs to look historically and examine whether this method succeeded in the past in coping with the challenges.
An even more important question is: what does this say about Judaism if, in our opinion, the best method is the removal of choice (that is, if people are allowed to choose, they will leave Judaism)?
Regards, Shlomo Zalman
With God’s help, 9 Tevet 5781
The phenomenon of people calling themselves “coerced by reason” flatters Haredi society in two ways:
A. It testifies to a culture of thinking and asking questions.
This is exactly what one would expect in a society of people who spend the whole day studying Jewish sources in depth. A hi-tech person immersed in work pressure has no time to think too much about beliefs and values; he is constantly required to perform in order to keep up with relentless competition. Naturally, among people who are constantly engaged in asking questions, there will be some who do not accept the answers.
B. It testifies to a supportive society, one that allows even someone who has lost his faith to continue living within it.
After all, there is no physical barrier preventing those Haredim who have lost their faith from moving over to the secular side. If they remain in Haredi society, that is evidently because socially they are better off there.
In short: the situation is excellent 🙂
Regards, Simcha Fishel Plankton Halevi