Wednesday, August 27, 2003

Faith and Acceptance

I have been tremendously moved observing some of the reactions in the aftermath of the latest bus bombing. I was particularly awe-struck by the interview with Moshe Taubenfeld in the New York Post. I quote:
Moishe told The Post he harbors no hatred toward the maniacal Hamas terrorist who unleashed the bomb that wiped out his wife and son.

"I can't be angry. I am hurt," he said. "We cry because we hurt, but not because we have complaints."

Moishe said it was God's will.

"I know that God is with me and whatever was to be was to be," he said. "This is His way."
Although I may have difficulty agreeing with some of these sentiments, the incredible strength in the face of immense suffering is testament to the powerful effects of religious faith and its beneficial aspects. A recent Op-Ed in Ha'aretz makes some very similar observations. In an article titled "An elegant and painful nobility," Yoram Kaniuk writes:
I've been thinking about this since the day the bus exploded in Jerusalem. The bus was packed with Haredim. Most of the casualties - the dead and the wounded, some of them critically - were Haredim or their children. If this type of tragedy had happened to secular Israelis, messianic Jews, members of the Chabad movement or Mizrahi Haredim, their cries of grief would have immediately sought out the guilty parties: the government, the bus company, the lack of security guards. And, of course, the usual cries of "Death to the Arabs" and the terrible and justified anger against the human agent that brought the tragedy down upon them.

But the Ashkenazi Haredim do not hold anyone to blame. With a sort of nobility devoid of pathos, they live in a world that lies outside of history. What is true in our world is not real truth for them. They live in a world in which the Blessed be He loves the Jewish people and whatever befalls a person is God's handiwork. God instructed his chosen people to fulfill his commandments and to do what is good in his eyes. God does not need to explain what this good is.

The Haredim do not believe that calamities occur at random. God runs this world and he knows what he's doing. His knowledge is not the same as human knowledge, and a believer ascribes himself to God and lives within the Torah.

When I saw how they stood and prayed over their own blood, with terrible grief and restrained horror, begging God to forgive them, I could only be envious that my forefathers were like them.
Of course, there will always be many who are quick to point out, and sometimes rightly so, that religious faith has caused as much evil as it has inspired goodness. But it is important sometimes to just focus on the powerful and indescribable strength that can come from religious faith, and its potential to foster kindness and compassion, as long as it's guided by a universal moral conscience.

Tuesday, August 26, 2003

Chasidim and Careers

The comments on the previous post touched briefly on the issue of Chasidim establishing careers in the work force vs. living off charity and social services. I consider this issue to be of paramount importance so I decided to devote a separate post on the issue, even though I've written about it in the past, most notably in Charedim in the Workforce.

As has been noted by some of the readers, Chasidim are not monolithic and different groups have different attitudes regarding the issue. There are some more liberal-minded Chasidim whose attitudes toward secular education is more accepting, and in those groups, even if not the norm, studying for a professional career can be an option for those who wish to pursue it. But there are quite a few Chasidic groups whose stance is problematic in my opinion. These groups are the subjects of this discussion.

The groups I speak about shun secular education beyond elementary school level. Even elementary education is strongly lacking among some of these groups. Often the teachers are Chasidic men who know very little themselves and have difficulty even with basic English language usage. The post-elementary institutions provide no secular education whatsoever and attending college is almost out of the question for those growing up in these environments.

The result is a disproportionate number of families living lives of poverty, who rely on social services and communal assistance for their day to day living. By the time a Chasidic father realizes his family's situation is desperate, the family has grown and he can no longer afford to spend months or years in college or vocational training even if he wanted to take that step.

For those who claim that Chasidim are just as successful as non-Chasidim, whom are you kidding? Of course, we all know that there are driven, motivated, successful Chasidim. And it is true that Chasidim are sometimes resourceful in ways that others are not. But success in the Chasidic world is still very much limited to those with strong entrepreneurial and business skills. A Chasid with a creative streak or academic leanings has very few opportunities for success without going to college and establishing a career. One need only look at the figures to see that Chasidim statistically have lower income levels. None of the readers challenged the fact that Chasidim are strongly reliant on social services. If they legally qualify for those services, then they can't be too wealthy. And if they don't qualify and receive the services illegally, then what they're doing is criminal and can have no justification.

Reader Ani Yesheinu asks, "Is the goyishe world poverty free?" The answer, of course, is no, but nobody said it was. What I am saying, and I'm quite sure the facts bear me out, is that those who graduate from college have far greater opportunities for financial security. The fact that plenty of non-Chasidim lack the opportunities for advanced education is no reason for us to deny ourselves that opportunity.

Reader Issac Fan writes: "But I don't understand the implication by HR that we are shnurrers to take from the government, how are we supposed to marry off a child every year, pay tuition for private schools, bring in Shabbos and Yom Tov to the house, buy shoes for 12 children, etc?" As absurd as it sounds, I hear this argument quite frequently. You'd think it's said tongue-in-cheek, but no, they're quite serious. It is beyond me how one can think it's the taxpayer's responsibility to fund one's religious imperative to have as many children as possible. The way I see it, if you want to have ten, twelve, or more children, it is all the more reason for you to prepare properly by planning for your financial future as early as possible.

But there is good news. Some responsible leaders are starting to realize that having large families without a breadwinner with marketable skills is an untenable situation. In some circles, therefore, Chasidim are slowly becoming more open to the idea of having a secular education. There are a number of vocational schools, and one fully accredited college, that cater specifically to Orthodox men and women, with separate classes for both sexes, and increasing numbers of Chasidim are beginning to attend. But the problem is still very strong, especially in the more insular Chasidic communities that have very little contact with non-Chasidim. But I do think there's hope, and if I may allow myself a prediction, I think in ten years from now there will be more Chasidic Jews working toward professional careers than they ever imagined possible. It will be an organic change coming from the masses with the blessings of the more responsible leaders. It's just a shame that change didn't come early enough for me to benefit from it. But at least my kids might.

Monday, August 25, 2003

Yoinasan

Yoinasan (not his real name) is a young man in my community, around 20 years old, married for about a year, no kids, and someone whom I, and presumably most in the community, thought to be a model Chasid. Both he and his wife are from respectable families, he was considered a good "learner" in Yeshiva, very bright, as far as anyone can tell he's careful to follow all Chasidic customs and traditions, and many in the community know that he possesses uncanny knowledge of stories, anecdotes, and proverbs from many Chasidic Rebbes and leaders both past and present.

I never had much to do with Yoinasan beside an occasional nod and a hurried "good morning" or "good evening". He's younger than I am, seemed more religiously inclined, and I just never thought we'd have much in common. But at one point Yoinasan started coming over to me, when in Shul or when passing me on the street, to make conversation. He's a pleasant fellow and I never made much of it, but I started realizing during our casual chats that occasionally he'd surprise me with some remark that was uncharacteristic for a devout Chasid. It soon became clear that he had a rebellious streak that few suspected.

One evening in Shul he came over to chat and after a few minutes said to me in an almost embarrassed tone, "There's something I wanted to ask you." After telling him to go ahead, he asked, "Do you have any--" and here he made a circular motion with his right forefinger to indicate a round object, "--that I could borrow?"

I wasn't sure at first what he meant. "You mean DVD's?" I asked.

"Mm hmm." He nodded.

Apparently, the word "DVD" or "movie" was something he felt uncomfortable saying. It was almost as if he couldn't admit even to himself that he's actually requesting this stuff. I asked him if he'd ever watched anything before. He said yes, and named some title I had never heard of, which I was later surprised to find to be some sleazy action and sex film. He'd borrowed it from a friend, someone without the sterling reputation that he himself enjoyed, who had no problem renting or buying movies. But that friend wasn't eager to be his regular supplier, and since Yoinasan, as a respectable young Kolel student, didn't drive, he was desperate for another source. Apparently, as little as he'd known me, he had somehow figured I might be able to help him. I guess wayward Chasidim have a sense for finding each other. When I asked if his wife knew about all this, he looked positively horrified. No. Of course not. He has a portable DVD player hidden away somewhere, and when his wife is away at work he steals away some time from Kolel for his forbidden activities.

I felt sorry for him. Not because he had difficulty getting hold of movies. He wasn't missing much, in my opinion. But it's a shame, I thought, that he feels so repressed in his environment and the only way he manages to catch a glimpse of outside culture is with lowbrow, R rated movies and the like. I told Yoinasan that although I watch movies every now and then, I own very few and I wouldn't be able to help him with that. But I also tried to tell him--even though it wasn't really any of my business, but I just couldn't bear not to--that if he really wants more than just the Chasidic lifestyle he was raised in, there is much more out there than movies. He was obviously very intelligent and I knew that if he'd only had some guidance he can find much that can enhance his life. I didn't think I would be the proper guide or role model, but lacking any other options, I felt I should at least give him some pointers to start with.

But where does one start with a Chasid who knows almost nothing about the world? I tried to tell him about some of the classics in literature. The works of Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, Ernest Hemingway. I tried to tell him of the world of classical music. I tried to impress upon him the importance of well-rounded knowledge in areas of science, philosophy, and other humanities--of which, admittedly, I have much less than I would have liked. But I soon realized how far removed Yoinasan was from appreciating what I was telling him. He told me his English wasn't very good, and after asking him a few questions, I realized it was much worse than he even knew.

I asked him if he's happy in Kolel. "Well," he said, "it depends. Sometimes I have good moments where the learning is rewarding and I feel happy with what I'm doing. But most of the time, I don't feel like I'm doing much. You know how it is in Kolel," he said with a laugh that betrayed a hint of discomfort at being so honest. "Most people just sit around drinking coffee and schmoozing, and here and there we find a few minutes to learn. I don't feel I'm really doing this because it's the right thing. I just don't have a choice."

"Why don't you just get a job?" I asked him.

"First of all," he said, "my wife, my parents, and my in-laws would be up in arms. They expect me to learn; that's what everyone in my family does. But even if that weren't a problem, what would I do? Even if I can speak and understand some English, I can hardly read or write it. To get a respectable job I need to learn English first and I have no idea how to go about doing that.

"Another problem with jobs is that if I earn too much I'll lose my Social Services benefits; Food Stamps, Medicaid, and all that."

I wasn't surprised he was worried about Social Services benefits. In the Chasidic community, that's often what people live on. Many feel it's difficult to find jobs that pay enough to support their large families without government aid. But I tried to explain to Yoinasan how wrong that thinking was. If only people would allow themselves to acquire some skills, they'll realize they can establish careers and achieve financial security through respectable means. It might be hard work but in the end it's worth it. Yoinasan wasn't totally convinced but I could see I made him think about it.

"Just one more thing," I said to Yoinasan. "If you're going to watch movies, watch something with substance. There's plenty out there that can make you think instead of just supplying gratuitous images and edge-of-your-seat suspense."

"Really?" he asked. He looked surprised. I thought I was just reminding him, but apparently, he didn't know that.

After all this, I couldn't help feel a rising sense of urgency for my own children's sake. I can't bear the thought of them being in this situation. Maybe I didn't help Yoinasan much. But he definitely helped me by making me aware of how my children might end up if I don't take the proper steps to avoid it.

Friday, August 22, 2003

I've been contacted by the Rebbe's court. No, no, not that court...

Well, well, what do you know? After posting about Chasidim on the Tube, I now get an email from Daniel Taub, the writer of the soap opera "Hachatzer", or "The Rebbe's Court", and he's an enthusiastic reader of this blog! And what's more he's got encouraging words for my dreams about writing, so that's nice of course.

He also wrote some very relevant remarks about the authenticity/romanticizing issue that were discussed in the comments. I quote him here, with his explicit permission:
A word about the soap. First, your reservations. All I can say is that I genuinely share them. I have tried my best to portray characters who are neither ridciulously pious and romanticised (as in most foreign depictions) or else harsh and hyprocritical (as in most Israeli portrayals). The idea is to give people an insight into the Chasidic world through the dilemmas a variety of chasidic characters face, and while, like in any soap, the events may be somewhat far-fetched, hopefully the response of the characters to them is less so. On the production side, I was suprised by the pains that the production company took, within budget limitations, to try to get the details right (urgent phone calls like: which edition of the shas should be on the Rebbe's bookshelves?). As far as ulterior motives behind the series go, personally I have no intention - and think it would be foolish - to try to mekarev rechokim through the series. I'll be very satisfied if secular Israelis just find themselves identifying with chasidic characters they probably wouldn't look at twice on the street.
It's gratifying and encouraging to see someone trying to humanize Chasidim to the secular world in an honest way. And as I wrote to Daniel, now we only need a way to humanize the secular people to the Charedim.

So, Daniel, my best wishes for success with the series! I only wish there were a way for me to see it. I wonder if I have any fans in Israel who'd be willing to tape it for me. :-)

Thursday, August 21, 2003

Not exactly another rebel, but still worth it ...

There are many great blogs out there, many of which I check regularly. But until now Katle Kanye was the only one that I've read through all the archived posts from the very first. But now there's another, Aidel Maidel. Written by a Ba'al Teshuva who is apparently close to the Chasidish world, it is a remarkable window into the world of an obviously special human being. I found it in my referrer logs and was immediately taken by the humor, the feeling, and just sheer humanness. I don't have the right words to describe it. I laughed, I cried, I just couldn't tear myself away, even though G-d knows I have a ton of work to do.

At first I didn't even realize that in her latest post she mentions yours truly. I only saw the link on the side at first. But apparently she's a visitor here and even has some issues with me. Oh well, you can't please everyone. But AidelMaidel, you keep it up and I'll be reading.

Wednesday, August 20, 2003

Chasidic Rebelliousness

Occasionally, someone makes a remark in the comments section that I find worthy of addressing in a post. A recent comment by Totally Content, or TC--as she is known here, is worthy of such. TC writes:
There are so many wonderfully healthy [Chasidic] homes, with happy, educated and well-mannered children.

The sad fact is, that it is the products of the unhappy homes that find their way here to complain. Most of my friends I talk to think it nonsensical to argue with a group of unhappy, disatisfied Chasidim. Most of whose issues go far deeper than whether they say 'excuse me' or not.

I simply believe that a portrayal of Chasidic life, that would bother with including the 'schnorrer' the uptight overdone Chasid, COULD and SHOULD include the cultured and happy Chasidic couple, kids or complete families. And they needn't be portrayed as rebellious, 'oifgeklert' or different. They're not.
How pretentious to claim that only unhappy homes produce dissatisfied Chasidim. Funny, I just heard the same argument from a Chasidishe friend of mine. It is indicative of how lacking Chasidim are in the ability for honest, objective discussion about their problems. TC's friends are probably right. It's nonsensical to argue, since she's obviously not open to understanding the issues that are bothersome to many (to many more than she knows).

The way I see it, dissatisfaction in the Chasidic community comes primarily for three reasons:

  1. Cultural Repression. Many are just not happy with many restrictive aspects of Chasidic society. They want to just be free and indulge in the pleasures life has to offer; not necessarily violating Jewish law--at least not to some opinions, only Chasidic custom, such as watching movies and TV, listening to pop music, dressing in modern styles, closer association with the opposite sex, and the like. Occasionally, some are drawn to classic culture such as literature, art, or classical music. Additionally, many are put off by cultural norms in the Chasidic community that contrast strongly with behaviors in the modern world. Examples would be matters of hygiene, polite behavior, and even ways of thinking.

  2. Intellectual. An increasing number of Chasidim are becoming exposed to both classic and modern philosophical and scientific arguments against religion. More and more young Chasidim are starting to question the tenets of their faith. Some stop believing in G-d completely. Some believe in G-d but not in the Torah, or in Sinaic revelation, or the Oral tradions. Many establish for themselves personal philosophies that combine different aspects of Judaism, Chasidism, and secular humanism (which, in my opinion, are not mutually exclusive). Even when these ideas don't cause them to reject the fundamentals of their faith, it causes them to analyze their Chasidic lifestyle in a new, more critical way.

  3. Emotional/Psychological. Painful experiences in the home, school, shul, community, or other social environment may cause one to rebel against the structure in which their pain was caused. Often, but not always, those incidents are a direct result of certain aspects of a Chasidic, or Charedi, lifestyle, such as the inability to succeed according to the rigorous standards in Yeshivas, not finding a Shidduch early enough to be considered respectable, and many, many other such uniquely Chasidic or Charedi idiosyncrasies.

It should also be noted that these factors apply equally to non-Chasidic Charedim. For many, it is a combination of two or all three of these. Different people under different circumstances deal with them in different ways. Some find ways to leave the community behind and start a new life. Some find ways to change their personal lifestyle in ways that don't affect their standing within the community. But many others find both of the above impossible for many reasons. They stay in the community, mostly suppressing their frustrations, but some find outlets like blogging and anonymous forums to express them.

TC would like us to believe that all dissatisfied Chasidim come from unhappy or unstable homes, or category 3 without the distinctly Chasidic problems. If I may venture to speculate, I'd say that TC feels most comfortable with that categorization because it shifts fault away from the advocates of a Chasidic lifestyle. But the facts don't hold out that theory. Many dissatisfied Chasidim come from families where there was no visible unusual stress, where the parents always did their best to create a nurturing and loving environment for the children, and where all other siblings turned out perfectly "normal". Of course, there is hardly a family that is free from problems; all families have occasions where there are disruptions in family harmony, in some families more than others. But if the standard familial stresses were to count for labeling it an "unhappy family", then that's what all families are, and they all produce mostly satisfied, but some dissatisfied offspring.

For TC to suggest that the "cultured" Chasidic family is the norm and not oifgeklert, or enlightened, is--excuse me for being so blunt--a blatant lie. In the Chasidic community, and by that I mean shmoine begudim Chasidim (belong to communities where the norm is lange rekel and Chasidic hat--samet or shtuf--for the weekdays, and Shtreimel, bekeshe, veisse or shvartza zukken on Shabbos) being cultured IS being different. Whether it's pop culture (movies, pop-music, etc.) or classic culture (literature, art, classical music, philosophy), it is strongly discouraged. You need only walk into any Chasidic Shul or open any Chasidic newspaper and you'll find numerous articles and notices warning of the evils of even having a computer or browsing the Internet.

Of course, there are many beautiful, beneficial aspects of a Chasidic lifestyle. Chasidim often claim that their families are happier and more well-adjusted than secular ones. They point to a low divorce rate, close parent/children relationships, generosity, helpful communities, and other societal indicators to prove their point. That may be true, as I'm sure is the case in many other traditional, close-knit societies. It doesn't take a genius to see that modern society is bankrupt on issues of morality and family values, and that the world has become a very cold and impersonal place. But at the same time, as in all other traditional societies, there are immense problems to be dealt with in the clash between tradion and modernity, and in the Chasidic community these problems are either dealt with ineffectually, or not at all. TC would like to portray it as being all rosy, and she'd like us all to think that her ability to embrace outside culture while being part of Chasidic life is the norm. That is patently false, and it is insulting to all intelligent people who know otherwise.

Tuesday, August 19, 2003

Another devastating attack...

I wish I had something meaningful to say about the bus bombing in Jerusalem but I don't have anything. I am just numb. Stupefied. Shocked. What is there possibly to say? It's all been said before. G-d, will there ever be an end to this?

Monday, August 18, 2003

There's been some technical glitch with the comments. I hope they'll be back up soon.

Update: Comments are now up again even though the counts are still incorrect.

Sunday, August 17, 2003

Chasidim on the Tube

A new soap opera about Chasidic Jews is about to be launched on an Israeli cable channel. I can't quite put my finger on it, but something about the show disturbs me. Maybe because I have yet to see Chasidic life portrayed realistically in a movie or television show; it always amuses me how Chasidic characters are almost always so ridiculously inauthentic. Maybe I have too much resentment of Chasidim and their behavior that deep down I am displeased at too sympathetic a portrayal; I somehow feel uncomfortable with romanticizing Chasidim, à la Italians in the Sopranos and other mob movies and TV shows. (No I'm not saying Chasidim are akin to the mafia, for those who want to jump on me for this. I'm comparing it to the fascination people have with cultures that are hard for outsiders to penetrate.) But I have a sneaky suspicion--and I hate to admit this--that what really bothers me is that I didn't get to write it. For years I've been dreaming about writing that bestseller novel about Chasidim, or the script for a hit movie. And now this show is coming out and I can't help feeling I would've done a marvelous job. Sigh. Oh well, maybe it'll still happen one day. It can't hurt to keep dreaming.

Thursday, August 14, 2003

Hey, Everyone

Sorry to be missing in action for so long. I've been extremely busy lately and have very little time for blogging or commenting. Also, since the Village Voice article things just haven't been the same. The blog lost the original innocence where I was able to just be myself and blog about whatever was on my mind. With the blog receiving so much attention, it's been difficult to write without caring about readers' reactions. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually pleased that the number of visitors per day is going down a bit (from its peak of 1300 per day to about 700 now--which is still up from about 250 a day before the the VV article). It's hard to explain but I just felt more comfortable when the readership was smaller.

It's also a bit difficult for me not to be very conscious of the negative reactions I have received. Not that I've become intimidated; not in the least. But, to be completely honest, I didn't think I'd touch such a nerve and I really didn't think so many people would be so deeply offended. That was never my intention. Additionally, people misunderstood my objective with this blog. Many thought I had an agenda to expose our problems to the world as a form of entertainment for those who take pleasure in seeing Chasidim bad-mouthed. Some, more kindly, thought I was interested in bringing about change. In truth, my objective is neither. It is merely an outlet for my personal feelings and observations about my world, thoughts that I could never express to anyone around me. Of course, we all have our shortcomings, and there may have been some posts where I might have been unfair, but for the most part I don't believe I was. I'm not going to stop speaking my mind now, and I'm sure there will continue to be plenty of criticism thrown my way. But hey, that's life in the blogosphere.

I hope I'll soon be getting back to blogging regularly, and I hope at least some readers will stick around until then.

Friday, August 08, 2003

The comments had been disabled because the discussions started getting out of hand with silly bickering and personal attacks. I don't have the time or the energy to monitor them to weed out the offensive ones. I received quite a few emails asking to re-enable them, so I did. But I ask each and every participant to PLEASE stick to the topic at hand and refrain from anything that may be offensive.

Thursday, August 07, 2003

User comments have been temporarily disabled.

Monday, August 04, 2003

The Rebbe's Tisch

It had been a while since the last time I'd been to my Rebbe's tisch, the Rebbe's friday night Sabbath meal that is usually attended by his Chasidim after finishing their own Sabbath meal. I usually spend Friday nights studying the Parsha, the weekly portion of the Torah, if I'm not so exhausted that I fall straight into bed. Singing and dancing with Chasidim on Friday night used to be the highlight of my week, but at some point I stopped enjoying it. Maybe it was my overall disaffection with Chasidic customs, or maybe when I left Kolel and got a serious job, it left me in sore need of extra sleep on the weekends. It was probably a combination of both.

So this week, when my Shabbos guest whom I will call Mike, a non-Chasidic relative from out of town, mentioned that he'd love to experience a Chasidic Rebbe's tisch, I rather welcomed the idea. The weather was nice, I wasn't too tired, and as detached as I may be from Chasidic sentiment, I still enjoy hearing a non-Chasid's take on Chasidim, their Rebbes, and the sometimes bizarre, often quaint Chasidic behavior. When I was younger, I used to enjoy watching the fascination on the faces of non-Chasidim who chanced in to a tisch, and I still have some of that impish delight when I see an unfamiliar face enjoying the scene.

When we left the house it was already quite late, but the streets were far from empty. Men and boys, and an occasional woman or girl, were heading to the tisches of the various Rebbes around town. Chasidim from almost every Chasidic group were strutting in their Shabbos best, with all variety of Streimels, those curious Chasidic fur hats, bekeshes, the long, silk, black caftans, and knickers with white or black stockings.

"Git Shabbes," a friend of mine greeted us in Yiddish as we arrived at the Shul. He extended his hand to Mike with a welcoming smile and shook it warmly. The Rebbe hadn't yet entered and we stood around chatting, with Mike receiving a few polite handshakes from some who noticed the unfamiliar face. Suddenly a rush of men and boys came into the Shul hushing the crowd. These zealous young Chasidim tried to ensure total quiet when the Rebbe entered. They seem to enjoy creating a sort of royal atmosphere for the Rebbe. All are expected to stand at attention when he passes.

In the throng of teenage boys and young men rushing in ahead of the Rebbe, one of them inadvertently poked Mike in the ribs with his elbow while stepping on his foot. That couldn't have been pleasant. Mike's face registered pain, but most of all he was surprised at the rough behavior. "You should apologize," I called after the Chasid. He looked back at me totally uncomprehending.

The Rebbe appeared a moment afterward accompanied by his gabbai, his attendant. People rushed to take their places. Older and more prominent Chasidim sat down at the rows of tables laid out with fruit, nuts, and seltzer. Most others stood around the tables reverently watching the Rebbe's every move. The bucherim, the unmarried Yeshiva boys, and the young men climbed onto bleachers surrounding the tables. It felt like decades since I was one of them. The memories of my Yeshiva days always come back to me at the tisch, and I was starting to feel nostalgic for the warm Shabbos experience with the Rebbe.

I suggested to Mike that he try getting up on the parentches, as the Chasidim called the bleachers. He'll be able to feel the spirit much better. He was eager to do so, and after noticing a few empty spots on one of the higher levels he headed up there while the Rebbe started chanting the hymns and prayers before the Kiddush, the blessing over the wine. I've had many unkind thoughts about the Rebbe in the past, as regular readers would know. But now I was enchanted by the glowing atmosphere. Looking around at the Chasidim I couldn't help be aware of the obvious contentedness of these people. The men and boys may know very little about the world outside of theirs, but they are definitely happy enough without it.

But the charms were quickly shattered. Mike was suddenly standing beside me again.

"What happened?" I asked. "Why did you come down?"

"They're a bunch of putzes," he said. Mike can be very blunt sometimes. The bucherim apparently didn't give him a very warm welcome. "They say there's no room up there. It looked pretty empty to me."

"Never mind. Just stay down here; it's just as well."

But it put a damper on the warm feelings I had started to have. I knew those bucherim meant no harm, but can't they shape up their manners a bit, at least for a stranger? They could've made some room if they wanted to.

The Rebbe's chanting went on for a few minutes, occasionally breaking into song, which the Chasidim would join for a few moments. The Rebbe then poured wine from a silver wine bottle into a silver cup on which to say the Kiddush. "Shhhhh," went some young Chasidim loudly to the already hushed crowd. It's sort of a ritual for them to announce that the Rebbe is about to do something important. It doesn't really matter if there's any noise. "Shhhhh," in the Rebbe's presence is more like a sergeant yelling "Attention!"

After the Rebbe recited the Kiddush, he began his meal. Only the Rebbe eats a full meal at the tisch, the Chasidim having eaten theirs beforehand. But the Chasidim do get some food. It's in the form of shrayim, the Rebbe's leftovers. The Rebbe's dishes are intentionally oversized and heaped way beyond his capacity to consume. When he's had his fill, the gabbai takes what's left and splits it into a few little plates which he then hands out to the Chasidim around him. Each Chasid takes a morsel with his fingers for himself before passing on the plate. It can make the unaccustomed quite queasy. Plates with gobbles of boiled white fish mixed with gefilte fish, that had been handled by dozens of hands. I watched as a Chasid handed Mike one of the plates. "No thanks," said Mike, trying not to be rude by refusing the blessed scraps. I quickly took the plate and picked a tiny morsel for myself, lest I be accused of being an "enlightened" one, who finds it beneath him to share in the Rebbe's shrayim. I'll just take the shrayim and force it down, thank you very much.

But with the next dish came the unexpected. I had been daydreaming for a moment and suddenly I notice everyone looking my way. Well, actually, Mike's way, and as I looked up I noticed the Rebbe motioning to Mike to come up to him. With some of the dishes the Rebbe takes some of the leftovers himself and hands it to Chasidim he wishes to honor. Often guests are the recipients of this special notice, and this time it was Mike. Mike looked at me as if to say, "What did you get me into?" I only shrugged, and as all eyes were in our direction I prodded him to go get the shrayim and be done with it.

Mike made his way to the Rebbe, who smiled at him. I couldn't help thinking I detected a hint of mischievousness in that smile, as if he enjoyed the discomfort of a non-Chasid being prodded to eat some shrayim.

Mike extended his hand and the Rebbe lumped a hot piece of kugel into it. Mike hadn't expected it to be so hot, and he started throwing it from one hand to the other to avoid getting burnt. But he couldn't juggle the kugel for long and with all eyes still upon him it fell out of his hands to the floor. The Chasidim gasped. Mike looked completely lost. He'd almost burnt his hands in this bizarre ordeal and he wasn't ready to risk it again by picking up the still steaming kugel. Besides, he definitely wasn't going to eat the kugel now after it touched the floor. But Mike didn't have to think long, because almost immediately the Chasidim had the kugel all scooped up and handed off to waiting hands. One Chasid graciously offered Mike a scrap he still had, but Mike just walked away with an unbelieving look on his face, relieved to be done with this shrayim business.

The tisch, as always, was punctuated by zemiros, songs for the Sabbath, between dishes, with the gabbai inviting various members of the community to lead. "Reb Mordche, Mah Yedidus," the gabbai called out inviting an old Chasid to lead with a particular song. Reb Mordche was a favorite of the Chasidim. He had a seemingly endless supply of fresh melodies that he remembered from old Chasidim in Europe. He began to sing Mah Yedidus to the tune of an old Chasidic melody that was both soulful and gay. His hoarse and unsteady voice made it difficult at first to make out the song, but his voice soon became stronger and clearer and the Chasidim joined in with the voices of young and old resonating powerfully throughout the large Shul.


Ask a Chasid what is the most profound part of the Rebbe's tisch and he'll most likely say the Rebbe's torah, the discourse on the weekly Torah portion usually with an especially Chasidic flavor. But strangely, most Chasidim look completely bored as the Rebbe weaves his interpretation of a few Torah verses based on Talmudic or Kabbalistic precepts. I've never heard the Rebbe say anything earth-shattering, and as far as I can tell, he doesn't seem to enjoy it much himself. But it's part of his job, and he carries on the tradition faithfully, and somewhat admirably, I should add.

But the true highlight of the tisch is when the Rebbe leads with a very special song that expresses a uniquely Chasidic passion for G-d and the Sabbath. The Rebbe's eyes are tightly closed, his face is red, and with his long white beard and flowing white payess, or sidecurls, he looks almost other-worldly. His voice is strong and it can be heard clearly above those of the Chasidim. The intensity is palpable, and the Rebbe with his Chasidim seem to be in an almost sublime state. The voices rise to the high notes and it is impossible not to be captivated and drawn to sing along.
O G-d, how I yearn for the sweetness of the Sabbath.

Draw the pleasantness of your awe to the nation that seeks your desire,
Purify them with the holiness of the Sabbath that proclaims the oneness of your holy name,
Open for them pleasantness and desire by opening the gates of your will.

The Sabbath is the pleasantness of the souls,
and the seventh day is the delight of the spirits,
and the eden of the minds, to delight in your love and in your fear.

O holy Sabbath, how I ache for your love.
The song ends and the Chasidim are back on earth again. The gabbai motions to a Chasid to start another song and the Shul is soon filled with singing and tapping to the tune of a cheerful waltz. The tisch ends on a lively note, and after the Rebbe leads the Chasidim in bentching, the grace after meals, the tisch is over.


Mike had seemed to be intensely moved by the experience, and whatever discomfort he may have felt from the shrayim episode, it wasn't visible.

"I don't know why you're always complaining about Chasidim," Mike said to me on our way out. "I wish I had this every week."

I had been warmed by the experience, and I didn't feel it the right time to explain why I still think there's a lot wrong with Chasidim. I had to admit that I sometimes forget what is good about them.

"I hope you'll come again," I said to Mike as he was leaving on Saturday night.

"You won't have to ask me twice," he said, "as long as a tisch is part of the program."

I smiled. Who was I to deny the Chasidim a new friend.