Douglas Rushkoff

I've wanted to talk about Douglas Rushkoff for a long time, so a recent mention of him in the comments spurred me to do it just now. I read Rushkoff's blog occasionally, I've read about his book "Nothing Sacred" in various publications, and I've glanced through it a little while standing in a bookstore. I have very mixed feelings about it. Orthodox Jews, of course, would consider his book sacrilegious. He has some interesting ideas, but I don't think they carry enough weight to replace the ideas that constitute traditional Judaism. At most, they're just another philosophy out there competing for people's minds.

I've also been turned off by the fact that--according to an interview he gave to the Forward a few weeks ago--until very recently he knew little about Judaism. And here he's suddenly telling us all that he's got it all figured out! From the little I've read about him, I think he still hasn't got the slightest idea of what Judaism is. It seems more like he's just taking his idea of the ideal religion, and saying this is what Judaism is about at its core.

Of course, Rushkoff has a right to believe what he wants, and some might even say that what I'm doing is no different. But the difference is, Rushkoff wants to remake Judaism in the image of his ideas and get people to accept his philosophy, whereas my search is a very personal one.

But I do identify with one thing. His latest post is about a public discussion he tried to have with someone who turned out to be "a deeply hostile, closed-minded, and passive-aggressive personality" who resorted to random attacks, trying to rip apart him and his book. Sound familiar? I can't help wondering how people who resort to mean-spiritedness don't see how weak they come across. They're obviously only looking to score points for the ostensible entertainment value in using attacks instead of civilized discussion. How shallow.

A Warm Welcome

Long time reader and frequent commenter Issac Brumer now has a blog of his own: A Small Island Off New Jersey. Isaac, I really wish you lots of luck and much inspiration for some quality writing, but I hope that doesn't mean you'll be visiting here less. And I wish you lots of readers! (Doing my part by adding a link.)

Update: Isaac has decided to shut down the blog. I'm sorry to hear that Isaac, but we wish you well whatever you do.

Fundamental Issues

The previous post generated a flurry of comments, some thoughtful but many were not. I'm truly surprised at the ad hominem attacks, with few actually addressing the issues intelligently. My post wasn't mocking Chasidim, nor was I saying anything about porn. Granted, this may not have been clear from the post, but the underlying questions in the previous post are the following, which--believe it or not--I would sincerely like to see some serious comments on, not knee jerk babble you remember from your 8th grade teacher or Rebbe:

1. The Torah, in both the written and oral parts, has given us much guidance in general as to what would be considered moral and virtuous. The concepts of modesty, morality, humility, and many others. The question now is, are these concepts based on a universal human understading of virtuousness, or are they from G-d. If the former, who is to say that humans can't redefine what is or isn't virtuous. It's the age old question, is morality instinctive, or is it defined by society, in which case society can then redefine it as they choose. If, on the other hand, we accept these ideas because they come from the Torah, how can we obligate non-Jews--who don't have the Torah--to adhere to these concepts? Is it because they make sense for all humans? Well, what if some humans find it insensible? Homosexual unions have been considered immoral for centuries by those with Judeo-Christian ethics. Today, there is much more acceptance of it, and many in the modern world consider it normal for individuals to accept their sexual orientation, whatever it may be.
   
   
2. How far does the power of Chazal go in interpreting the Torah? Is every saying or suggestion mentioned in the Talmud binding on every Jew? Must we believe that when a sage is quoted as saying somethng is proper or improper, he has it on authority from G-d? Is it not possible that some things that Chazal said were at least partly inspired by the mores in vogue at the time? Or that they were their personal understandings, but are not necessarily absolutely true?
   
   If we are required to accept every word on the chance that it is part of the transmission from Moses, up till when does that apply? When a modern day sage gives us a statement commanding us to behave in a certain way, is that binding on us too? Chasidim may believe that it is, but many Orthodox Jews take a more liberal view. So why should I not accept that one? And if that is the case, then where does it stop. The last generation? The shulchan aruch? Why stop there? Maybe it stops with the completion of the Talmud? Maybe with the Mishna? Or maybe there is no longer such authority in the absense of true Semicha?
   
   Are decrees, commonly referred to as gedarim, fences, that are enacted by rabbis today binding on all Jews? Are they binding on some? If so, is it based on Halacha, or is it a practice accepted as beneficial by k'lal yisroel? Or do we say that in the absense of the Beis Din Hagadol B'Yerushalayim, the Great Court of Jerusalem, there is no longer any authority for making takanos and gezeiros. Perhaps these are questions to which there are no clear answers? And if so, can we be clear about it?

In order to address these issues properly, it would be helpful to state the following assumptions:

1. G-d exists, and he is good and perfect, who cares about every human being, listens to our prayers, and wants us to be good, follow his laws, and be kind, comapassionate, and just.
2. The Jewish people experienced a revelation by G-d at Sinai at which they were given a set of laws, the basic parts of which were written down, and additional instructions were transmitted to the people only orally. (Whether every word in the written Torah is actually the word of G-d, or if it was Moses telling it in his own words, is a good topic to comment about, if anyone cares.)
3. The Torah does give authority to a human body of scholars and judges to interpret the laws and make decisions. The question is, what defines that body, and is there anyone today with tat authority.

Beside these assumptions, everything else is open to contention. Although some might want to challenge these assumptions as well, I ask that you leave it for another time, since the field of debate will be exponentially greater otherwise, and there will be no meaningful outcome for anyone.

Of course, many have addressed these issues in the past. There are many valid arguments and responses to many of these topics. But discussion of it is always helpful, and generating that was really my objective with the previous post. Now if we can have some serious answers, I'm all ears. But there's one caveat here. This is one post for which I'm making a strict comment policy. Any snide remark, or any attack against anyone else's character will be promptly deleted. That's not what these comments are for. This is for civilized folks only. Debate and disagreement are fine. But resorting to character attacks because of insufficient knowledge to comment meaningfully is best left for the schoolyard bullies.

Love and Chazal

My wife and I watched a movie last night. When it was over, I asked her if she liked it.

"Not really," she said.

"I thought it was really good," I said. "What didn't you like about it?"

"I don't like movies with sex scenes," she said, with a rather impatient tone.

"Oh." I was unsure what to say.

She looked at me and asked, "Do you?"

To be honest, I had never thought about it before, at least not consciously. Of course, when I first started watching movies, the sex scenes made me uncomfortable, having been raised in such a sheltered environment that I had never even seen a man and a woman kiss. But I've since watched plenty of movies and the standard fare in most movies no longer made me uncomfortable. After pondering the question a bit, I told my wife that I think sexual elements in a movie can show passion and feeling that cannot be conveyed otherwise. And yes, if it shows that passion then I do like it.

"I don't see how you can enjoy watching something that should be so private. I think it's disgusting to put those elements in movies. Besides, I don't think halachically we're allowed to watch it. All this sex brings impure thoughts and draws one to lust after forbidden pleasures."

Well, what could I say to my pious Chasidic wife? I couldn't argue with the fact that it's halachically questionable. Neither could I argue with the fact that it can lead to desires that one would do better without. But I don't think there's anything dirty about it. Isn't that really the stuff of life? Oh, I know some people will argue how unimportant romance, love, and sex are, and how foolish it is to see these things as anything more than primal instincts that should be overcome. But I have a hard time accepting that view. From the beginning of recorded history, humans have been singing, wailing, pining, and have sometimes gone sick or mad, for love. Humans have written books, plays, songs, and used every art form to convey the wondrous magic that only true lovers know. The passion of young romantics, or the pure, genuine love of old people. The intrigue of secret affairs, the forbidden love of the aristocrat with his or her servant, the eloping couple running from their family or society that dissents of their union, the pining heart for a lover beyond reach. Has anything ever capture the imagination like love has? And is there anything that can convey the passion better than passionate lovemaking?

I tried to tell all this to my wife. But she wasn't convinced. "Don't we Jews have to elevate ourselves above these desires? Isn't the life of a Jew more than just enjoying life's pleasure?"

But she didn't convince me either. Of course, Jews believe their life's mission is to be a "kingdom of priests and a holy nation", as the Torah says, but how do we define priestly, or holy? Who determines what is sacred and pure and what is profane and objectionable?

But my wife had the answer on her lips. "Chazal, of course. Our sages have been telling us for 3500 years exactly what we ought to do, and what not."

Ahh, so there's that word again. Chazal. It's the answer to all questions. It wasn't that long ago when I would've used the same answer were the question posed to me. Our rabbis have told us clearly what the Torah means, and we must believe that down to our very generation our sages have received all the answers handed down in a direct chain of transmission from Moses, who received it all at Sinai straight from G-d.

So that's where the discussion really ends for all practical purposes. Either you believe that everything Chazal say is divine or you don't. If you do, then there's nothing really to argue about any longer. And if you don't, it's best just to keep quiet about it. It's not that I don't believe anything Chazal say. I just don't accept everything. To me that's the biggest task in life. Knowing when to accept the authority of our sages, and when to assert my individual understanding of what are our duties and responsibilities. I find it very implausible, and completely contrary to reason, to accept that everything the rabbis said was given from Sinai. I believe it's impossible that the mores and values of the surrounding cultures and the changing winds in societies over three thousand years didn't drastically affect the nature of our traditions.

But my wife knows me well enough, and the whole discussion is just a rehash of a discussion we've had countless times in the past. She knows pretty much what I believe and what I don't, and to her credit, she doesn't have an ounce of judgementalism and still loves me despite my many doubts. My wife epitomizes the ideal Chasid. She loves me despite everything, and she tries to understand me. She believes in the power of repentance and firmly believes that I'll change my ways. That one day I'll see the light. Well, who knows? Love has done stranger things to people.

Just don't hock a tchainik!

Ladies and gentlemen, rebels and rebeltes, chasidim and litvakkes, I am proud to present The Hock by our resident poet, the talented, artful, most delightful AH-CHA!

::Enthusiastic Applause::

The Hocker starts his hock with his latest ditty about the Williamsburg eiruv, which he composed on this very blog.

Oy Vey! Oy Vey! Willi's on fire
From Rodney Street to Havermeyer
The public outrage truly does inspire
me to strangle my neighbor with chicken wire

My baby's carriage is flying down Division and Keap,
Ripped out of my hands by some anti-eruv creep,
It's enough to make the Malachim weep
I'm staying out of the streets, holing up in my shteep

Things are going crazy in our holy little town,
Eruvs going up- whoops, now it's going down
Name calling, mud flinging, Vaiseh Zucken going brown,
It's enough to make even Yankel Miller frown

Streimlach flying through the air,
It's just not right, it isn't fair
I had my teeth knocked out with a rotten pear
Give me my boots, I'm moving to New Square

He says he's got a lot more coming :

"...stay posted for the latest hock and rayd in the yeshivish, chassidish and modernish communities- Keep it real out in the field, aight?"

Hocker, we're delighted to welcome you and we'll be looking out for your postings.

Runaway Teens

I've been bombarded with emails asking for my take on the Chasidic girls who ran away and just reappeared. Honestly, I'm not sure what to make of it. I definitely feel for the parents' heartbreak; it must be devastating for them. As much as I might delight in people exploring the world and finding their own way, I don't think it should come in this form, with such heartbreak involved. But there's obviously something seriously wrong here. The girls apparently were quite unhappy and found this to be the only way out. I think it's very sad that they couldn't be more open with their parents. Perhaps if the parents understood their issues they could've helped them find their own way without cutting themselves off entirely from family and friends. Of course, some might cheer for these girls, admiring their courage to just be themselves. But that's just ignoring the reality of a situation like this, making it into the triumphant dramatic story of two girls who defied the world and had the courage to do what they felt was right for them, blah, blah, blah. Whom are we kidding? These were young kids who know little about life. It's a dangerous world for two Chasidic 15 year olds, who probably know very little about the outside world and could easily fall in with the wrong people in the wrong environments, which could end with tragic results. We can only hope that with all the media attention there will be enough sensible people in the community to advise the parents on the right approach to take. Maybe in the end it will all have been for the good of all involved.

Prayers and Mumbles

I often have a hard time getting to shul for Shachris, the daily morning prayers, with enough time to daven with the proper concentration and feeling to make it the spiritual boost for the day that it ought to be. Most days I get to shul with barely enough time just to rush through the brayers at breakneck speed before I have to head for work or start my daily schedule. In the evenings, often the same thing happens. I get to shul for Mincha or Maariv when the minyan, the prayer group, has almost finished the service, so again I just rush through the prayers.

But recently I started feeling that such prayers were quite meaningless. What's the point in rushing to shul, throwing on my tallis and tefilin, and mumbling the prayers, when all I want is to get it done with? I just couldn't believe that G-d really cares about such prayer. But try as I might, I just couldn't get myself to shul earlier. I am something of a procrastinator, and if I ever get anything done, it's always at the last minute. So I found myself faced with a depressing dilemma: continue taking the prayer expressway, or--and this will horrify some--just skip the prayers altogether since they feel meaningless anyhow.

And then it dawned on me. My problem was that I was stuck in a culture that values meaningless mumbling, but since I don't share that value, the practice is frustrating. Let me explain:

Chasidim, and even to an extent Orthodox non-Chasidim, often value the simple act of reciting sacred words. Concentrating on prayers and expressing them with feeling and emotion is valued too, of course. But the important thing is to say the words, and then if one has the time, patience, inclination, and inspiration, concentrating on the words is good too.

With each of the established prayer services, there are what I call the "mumbling sections" before and after the prayers. Often they're collections of biblical verses and Talmudic passages and you'd be hard pressed to find someone who knows why exactly they were made part of the daily routine, and what precise meaning they have, and why they're grouped into these particular collections. But it doesn't matter much for most people. Somebody way back when was inspired to add these passages into the siddur and now they're mumbled hurriedly, with little concentration or comprehension, by one and all.

But some Chasidim take mumbling to even greater levels. For every occasion, joyous, sad, just for good luck, or anything in between, there are sections of the Bible, Talmud, or Zohar to recite. For many Chasidim the Zohar is particularly popular. It consists of passages of kabbala that few can recite with proper pronunciation and even fewer can comprehend. There is a Zohar to recite before morning prayers, and another before evening prayers; one for each Sabbath meal, two before blowing the shofar, and yet another to recite when sitting in the Sukka. Then there are entire books of mumbling material for the "vach nacht", the night before a baby's bris, that will protect mother and child from the devil; a whole other book to recite the night before one moves into a new home; a book for the night of Shavuos, and another for the night of Hoshana Rabba.

I started becoming aware of all the mumbling going on around me as if noticing it for the first time. A man is reading notices on a bulletin board above a sink outside the shul restrooms, and he's mumbling to himself. After a few seconds, he turns from the bulletin board and mumbles, "...rofeh chol bosor, umaflee la'asos" (the end part of the blessing after going to the bathroom). He then looks at me seeming perplexed as to why I didn't say "amen." As far as I'm concerned, it wasn't much of a blessing if he's reading ads and posters while he's mumbling the words.

In shul one morning, a group of men stand around chatting. Another man, wearing tallis and tefilin with siddur in hand, comes over to join the discussion. He alternates between mumbling his prayers and contributing bits and pieces to the conversation. When he gets to the part where he is no longer allowed to interrupt his prayers with speech, he participates through gesticulation and a vocabulary consisting of "nu", "nee", and "ah hah."

Of course, these incidents are not representative of how Chasidim as a group approach their prayers, but they certainly result from the emphasis placed on saying words even without concentrating. I would dare to say that few people could honestly say that most of their prayers are said with proper comprehension and concentration. It's just plainly obvious that for most people prayer is an uninspiring chore. Although I can't know for sure, I suspect that if it were clear to people that empty words are meaningless, they'd feel completely foolish saying the words while being pre-occupied with other matters.

The way I see it, there is a fundamental problem with how most people approach their prayer obligations. For most people there is a fixed amount of material to cover, and, depending on how much time one has, it can be recited slowly and deliberately with feeling and concentration, or it can be hurried through in mere minutes. But what seems to me quite plainly to be the right approach, is to simply say whatever can be said with proper concentration in the amount of time one has. It's simply a quality vs. quantity question, and when it comes to prayer, in my opinion, quantity has no value whatsoever.

A friend of mine spent this last Tisha B'av in a non-Chasidic community. "Can you imagine?" he said to me afterward. "They only said ten chapters of the kinos, the book of lamentations, instead of the full forty-five. What's more, it took them the same amount of time it takes us to say the whole thing. I was actually able to think about what I was saying!" Now you see how dangerous it is to allow Chasidim to wander through non-Chasidic communities. They might get some new ideas.

After thinking about all this, I made a bold decision. From now on, my prayers will consist of as much as I have time to concentrate on. Instead of hurrying to get through all the prayers, I'm going to pick and choose. If ten minutes is all I've got then I'll fill those ten minutes with a few basic sections of prayer recited meaningfully. If I have more time, I can add more of the psalms preceding the main prayer sections. And if I still have time, I'll add some of the prayers following the main prayer. But what may be the most surprising is that, although from observing Chasidim you'd never know it, the halacha actually stipulates which prayers take precedence if one is pressed for time and which ones might be skipped. I think many Chasidim may have missed that one.

Talk about Chilul Hashem...

If ever an example was needed for how backward and intolerant some Chasidim can be, this New York Post article about the eiruv in Williamsburg should do.

Wolfgang Duffal, one of the security guards hired by the ultra-Orthodox group, said Friday's clash nearly erupted into an all-out street fight.

"Up to 100 people were involved in the dispute," said Duffal.

"The [ultra-Orthodox] were like animals. There was a huge mob, and they tried to grab things out of people's hands to stop them from carrying things."

Duffal said that during one altercation, a group of Satmars "grabbed one guy's fur hat and threw it over the fence . . . and I think they hit him and beat him up."

And yesterday, Satmar members kept up the heat, harassing and taunting people on the street.

Unfortunately, this behavior is committed or encouraged, either tacitly or explicitly, by the mainstream, not just a fringe element. Parents teach their little children to taunt and yell at those who make use of the eiruv. Neighbors who have known each other for years have suddenly become enemies with shouting matches going on constantly between people of all ages. Even those who are not inclined to act violently cheer on those who are, and the more pious you consider yourself the less regard you have for common decency and civilized dialogue.

What is most outrageous about this behavior is that they are mocking prominent, well-respected halachik authorities who are the eiruv's supporters. Satmar is finally showing its true face of not having the slightest idea of how Jewish law and custom had been functioning for the past two millenia. Rabbis and sages had disagreed vehemently in the past, but it was always established that community members follow their own rabbis in all issues. Those in Satmar who behave this way are not protesting desecrations of the Sabbath. Nor are they just continuing their fifty year pattern of harassing Jews who disagree with them in any way; what they are doing here is much worse. They are distorting Jewish law and custom to fit their own narrow philosophy. This is not Judaism and this is definitely not Chasidism. This is pure thuggery. They are adopting the crudest methods for voicing opinions, comparable only to anarchists and street riots in the most uncivilized parts of the world. It is time for Orthodox Jews all over the world to take a stand and say to Satmar Chasidim, "We have had enough!" These people should not be allowed to make a mockery of Jews and Judaism. This is an unimaginable desecration of G-d's name. For the past fifty years they have been mocking the greatest Torah scholars. They have fostered a culture of violence and hatred against anyone who doesn't bend to their distorted interpretations of the Torah. They have waged cruel and vicious campaigns against those who dared have a different opinion. And recently they've turned to ugly infighting and power struggles, making it clear what they are really all about.

If there are Satmar Chasidim who feel that this behavior is wrong, they should make themsleves heard. They should wake up and realize that the mob mentality is killing them, and if they don't stop this behavior then Satmar will destroy itself from within--as is beginning to happen already--but not before causing irreparable damage to the very fabric of Orthodox Jewry and to the stature of Torah and Judaism.