Sunday, April 19, 2026

On the Eve of Independence Day: A Final Call to American Jewry - Haggai Segel's Article in This Week's Mekor Rishon

Immigrants emigrated by the hundreds of 
thousands from Arab countries? Why not 
North America?

Here is Claude's translation of Haggai Segel's Hebrew article from this week's Mekor Rishon. I have not checked it for accuracy, but even with small errors you get the point.

Personal Note: I have been asked whether this article represents my personal beliefs - which would explain why I am sharing it. Mamash not!
I genuinely believe that every Jew should live in Eretz Yisrael and that's where hkb"h wants them to live. Yes, every one. Every rabbanim and shluchim.
But I certainly don't think that people who do not move to Israel are traitors. Are they short sighted? Yes. Ungrateful for the gift of God's Holy Land? Sure. But traitors? Definitely not!

I really felt the tone of the article was inappropriate and insulting - but it's even more insulting to write about an entire segment of the Jewish people without sharing with them what you wrote. 


On the Eve of Independence Day: A Final Call to American Jewry

Israel is about to turn 80, yet our brothers in the United States still delay their coming, save for a small handful of true Zionist righteous souls. The time has come to tell them clearly what we think about that.

During Chol HaMoed Passover, between one air raid siren and the next, in an underground study hall in Jerusalem, a young relative of mine was brought into the covenant of Abraham our father. They named the newborn Adir Tzion. His proud father explained in English that the name honors the famous American fighter jet — the stealth aircraft — that the IDF used so effectively in the war against Iran. The charismatic mohel also spoke in English, between the Hebrew blessings and songs.

English is a language with a strong vocal presence on our streets. When I was a child, no one spoke English on the street or at the corner store. My late mother, a native of London, had no neighbors she could chat with in the language of Shakespeare and Churchill. Moroccan, Polish, Romanian, Hungarian, French, and Yiddish dominated the conversations of the adult population around her. Russian and Georgian began filtering in at the start of the seventies, and Amharic from the eighties and nineties — but those are gradually fading. Only English is rising and flourishing as a second language.

It is possible that immigrants from other countries make a greater effort to switch to Hebrew when outside their own homes, due to the diasporic connotations of their native language and the prejudices of native-born Israelis. Immigrants from North America and Britain have no similar complex. English is the world's leading medium of communication, the language of diplomacy and high-tech, and certainly the foreign language most familiar to native Israelis. So, amid all the sounds of English, one sometimes gets the feeling that half of American Jewry has already made aliyah in the last generation — like the mother of little Adir Tzion (his father made aliyah from Britain). Sadly, this impression is very mistaken.

The largest Jewish diaspora in the world — Israel's last great demographic hope — trickles here drop by drop, in a manner so stingy it borders on an insult to the vision of the Return to Zion. It has never streamed here en masse the way other exiles did: Morocco, Yemen, Iraq, and others. The Russian diaspora has shrunk dramatically in recent generations, from roughly 800,000 in 1970 to only about 120,000 today, while the American diaspora has only grown. Even when we are jubilantly informed of a "record-breaking aliyah from the United States," it amounts to the meager joy of a destitute man who received a dollar from his millionaire cousin — not even a tenth of a percent of what that cousin could afford.

Since the founding of the state, approximately 180,000 Jews have made aliyah from the United States in total. According to data from the Ministry of Aliyah and Absorption, 3,773 people made aliyah in 2025. That is only six hundredths of one percent of the estimated American Jewish population according to the tireless demographer Prof. Sergio Della Pergola — 6.3 million. That estimate is somewhat generous in how it defines Jewish identity relative to strict halachic standards, but our Law of Return is also fairly generous and accommodating of intermarriage realities in the diaspora. For every ten thousand American Jews, only about five made aliyah in the past civil year. In 1971, the true all-time peak year, just over eight thousand made aliyah — a mere thousandth of the total Jewish population in that vast diaspora. In other words, even in the peak of all peak years, only ten American Jews out of every ten thousand troubled themselves to go to the land of their forefathers — and there is no doubt it is indeed a great deal of trouble and an exhausting spiritual effort. A native-born Israeli will not understand this.

Israel is about to turn 80, yet our brothers in the United States still delay their coming — all but a small handful of truly Zionist righteous souls. The time has come to tell them clearly what we think about that.

Other wars produced even thinner aliyah numbers. In the first four years after the founding of the state, only about two thousand American Jews arrived, compared to roughly 700,000 immigrants from all other diasporas. None of Ben-Gurion's pleadings, anger, or threats helped. He was the most demanding prime minister on the subject of aliyah, and did not hesitate to sharply insult Jewish leaders across the ocean. He stated outright that their Zionism was hypocrisy, and that if they were Zionists, then he was no longer a Zionist. I wrote an entire chapter about this in my book Mashiach B'Sdeh Boker, and in the end I had to note that it didn't help. They didn't come. The gates of Russia were opened near the end of Ben-Gurion's era, when the Soviets still ruled the Kremlin; the gates of America remained locked by choice.

Even Natan Alterman implored them to come. In August 1967, after a hundred thousand Palestinian war refugees registered in a single day for Operation Return Home to Judea and Samaria, and the right was seized with security anxiety, Alterman wrote in the newspaper that he was more troubled by the fact that not even a hundred Jews had registered for aliyah that same day. "This fact is a bolt of lightning illuminating the growth of an absurdity, which not only the security authorities need to take notice of," the poet wrote, explaining that "aliyah is necessary for us so that the efforts of the Jewish people's revival, and its arguments with the nations of the world to open the gates, do not ultimately stand before open gates that are empty with no one coming — and do not become a global joke, where the only question will be who laughs first, us or the world around us. If things unfold that way, clearly it will not be the Jewish people who laugh last."

The Jewish people has since laughed with joy many times — during Operation Solomon, for instance, or the enormous aliyah from the former Soviet states — but the continued stubbornness of American Jews in resisting redemption is indeed grounds for global ridicule at our expense. Because of it, because of them, we have not yet managed to resolve the demographic problem. A mass aliyah after the Six Day War could have enabled the settlement of a million Jews in Judea and Samaria, could have saved Gush Katif and the Yamit region of blessed memory, and of course the Galilee and the Negev. The IDF's manpower shortage problems would have been resolved despite the ultra-Orthodox draft-dodging — at least the ultra-Orthodox live here and contribute as best they can to solving the demographic problem. But our brothers in the American diaspora chose to remain on the banks of the Hudson, and we chose to silently accept their staying there.

No one hurls harsh words at them in the spirit of the Amora Reish Lakish's rebuke to the Jewish community of Babylon — the America of his day — which remained indifferent to the Zionist enterprise in the time of Ezra: "I hate you before God. Had you made yourselves like a wall and all gone up in the days of Ezra, you would have been compared to silver which rot cannot touch. Now that you have gone up like doors, you are compared to cedar which rot can affect" (Babylonian Talmud, Yoma 9b).

American Jews go up neither like a wall nor like doors. We send them emissaries, we melt with admiration at the initiatives of Nefesh B'Nefesh, occasionally muster the courage to hint that they ought to make aliyah — but we have long since stopped morally condemning the decision of the vast majority to cling to the diaspora. By our values and theirs, this is of course a legitimate choice; by the Jewish principle of free will as well. But by those same values and that same principle, it is our right and our duty to tell them clearly what we think of them. Enough flattery.

Dear brothers, you are betrayers (traitors - בוגדים). You betray us and you betray yourselves. When you pray three times a day "Sound the great shofar for our freedom, and raise a banner to gather our exiles" — you don't really mean it, because the shofar has already sounded, and there is no longer any technical or political obstacle to the ingathering of our exiles, only a selfish obstacle on your part. There are still many Jews in Europe, Australia, Canada, and South America as well — but you are ten times larger than them statistically, your absence is felt many times over, and no marginal benefit, financial or political, can cover for it. Therefore there is no longer any escaping the drawing of conclusions.

After all, Israel is about to turn eighty. Seventy years have already passed since Rabbi Soloveitchik's stirring Independence Day address — "Kol Dodi Dofek" — in which he mourned the continued slumber of "the faithful of Judaism" in America despite the wake-up calls from the Land of Israel. How long can we wait? What else needs to happen to you or to us before you pack your bags and board a plane?

Perhaps the time has come to issue an ultimatum: Dear brothers, if you do not come here en masse within five years — by Independence Day 5791, 2031 — we will stop sending you emissaries and dismantle the Jewish Agency. There is not much point left in their mission or its existence anyway. Those who wanted to make aliyah have already done so. Those still deliberating should decide quickly. The Chief Rabbinate should simultaneously declare that in 5791 it will stop including diaspora Jews in the halachic calculations of "the majority of its inhabitants dwelling within it," which pertain to certain Torah commandments connected to the Land. Such a declaration would shake primarily religiously observant Jews — but they are also the ones who pray three times a day, or at least once a week, and may yet repent.

The rest of the Jews there are already mentally disconnecting from us at an ever-increasing speed, partly to justify the shame of their voluntary exile. Too many readily submit to antisemitic propaganda. Some have even sunk to the low of supporting Hamas's invasion of Israeli territory on October 7th. Those who don't believe it can read on the Haaretz website the extensive interview with Ariel Angel, editor of the successful anti-Zionist magazine Jewish Currents. What do they have to do with us? What do we have to do with them? Judaism is not genetics — it is above all an idea, and the Land of Israel is one of its central pillars, not scaffolding that can be removed and still expect the building to stand. A mass aliyah to Israel soon would be a rescue aliyah for American Jews. Somehow they will survive the rising tide of antisemitism — but their Judaism will not survive without the Land of Israel.

Sunday, April 12, 2026

The Diaspora Challenge that I Called TMore than Twenty Years Ago - My Article in Jewish Action 2004

 

This Pesach, I arrived at shul to find a new edition of YU Torah-To-Go - always a fun read. Except this issue focuses on the critical communal challenge of Aliyah, and states rather dramatically that Diaspora Judaism is at a new croosroads. In light of growing anti-Semitism at home, and the pull of Israel, many in the issue argue that (Modern Orthodox) Diaspora Jewry needs to make some important choices about its future. 

This issue has already garnered much discussion (and I'm here in Israel!) and an early response from Professor Adam Ferziger in which he notes the issue, promotes his most recent book, and makes the important point that Aliyah is not always running away, and that Diaspora Jews make tremendous contributions here in Israel - and should think about aliyah in this manner as well. (On a personal note, there's a small but growing trend of Jewish educators coming to Israel and staying in Chinuch, rather than retraining in another field).

I raised the issue of the "brain drain" on Modern Orthodox communities more than twenty years ago, in an article that I called, "In Search of Leaders" in Jewish Action magazine of the OU. At the time, it also generate much discussion, including this article in the Orthodox forum by Yoel Finkelman, and others. 

Also, after we made aliyah in 2008, many many people commented that I wasn't following my own advice from my article. Sadly, neither they nor many of the letter writers, read my article carefully.

For reasons that are not clear to me, the archive for the particular issue was corrupted, so I'm sharing the original article here should you care to read it.

You can read the responses online (still up) here.



Tuesday, March 17, 2026

The Line in Shemoneh Esreh that Changed, and What it Tells us about Ancient - and Modern Jewish Communities in Israel and the Diaspora. Part 1.

Religious Jews around the world recite the following two blessings during the Amidah (otherwise known as Shemoneh Esreh) three times a day, every weekday throughout the year. The first blessing we pray for the rebuilding of Jerusalem, and in the second we pray for our national salvation through the Final Redemption. We recite:


וְלִירוּשָׁלַֽיִם עִירְךָ בְּרַחֲמִים תָּשׁוּב, וְתִשְׁכֹּן בְּתוֹכָהּ כַּאֲשֶׁר דִּבַּֽרְתָּ, וּבְנֵה אוֹתָהּ בְּקָרוֹב בְּיָמֵֽינוּ בִּנְיַן עוֹלָם, וְכִסֵּא דָוִד מְהֵרָה לְתוֹכָהּ תָּכִין. בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה, בּוֹנֵה יְרוּשָׁלָֽיִם. 

אֶת־צֶֽמַח דָּוִד עַבְדְּךָ מְהֵרָה תַצְמִֽיחַ, וְקַרְנוֹ תָּרוּם בִּישׁוּעָתֶֽךָ, כִּי לִישׁוּעָתְךָ קִוִּֽינוּ כׇּל־הַיּוֹם. בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה, מַצְמִֽיחַ, קֶֽרֶן יְשׁוּעָה.


At first glance, nothing here seems out of the ordinary. Of course it doesn't, because we've been habituated to this specific text for our entire lives. But when we look more carefully at the blessings themselves, we notice that part of them don't make sense. Take the brachah for Yerushalayim. The first three lines of the brachah seem fine.

וְלִירוּשָׁלַֽיִם עִירְךָ בְּרַחֲמִים תָּשׁוּב / וְתִשְׁכֹּן בְּתוֹכָהּ כַּאֲשֶׁר דִּבַּֽרְתָּ / וּבְנֵה אוֹתָהּ בְּקָרוֹב בְּיָמֵֽינוּ בִּנְיַן עוֹלָם


But then, when we come to the fourth line, we change topics entirely.


וְכִסֵּא דָוִד מְהֵרָה לְתוֹכָהּ תָּכִין / בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה, בּוֹנֵה יְרוּשָׁלָֽיִם


Why suddenly, do we switch from our focus on Jerusalem to the seat of King David? Now you might argue that David's seat makes perfect sense in this blessing, because it will be reconstituted in Jerusalem, of course. But then, the brachah returns to the subject of Yerushalayim for its conclusion. And, the very next brachah turns to the subject of King David.


אֶת־צֶֽמַח דָּוִד עַבְדְּךָ מְהֵרָה תַצְמִֽיחַ, וְקַרְנוֹ תָּרוּם בִּישׁוּעָתֶֽך 


Why does the prayer add a line about David in the previous brachah if David is the subject of the very next brachah. Moreover, this brachah also seems to switch subjects mid-sentences. While the brachah begins with King David, it then takes a very sharp turn from the specific redemption of King David, to a much broader divine salvation. 


כִּי לִישׁוּעָתְךָ קִוִּֽינוּ כׇּל־הַיּוֹם. בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה, מַצְמִֽיחַ, קֶֽרֶן יְשׁוּעָה


While originally David was the driving force for our future redemption, suddenly the blessing "forgets" about King David, and we turn not to our Messianic King, but instead to the God himself - for it is His salvation, and not David's which we pray for at the conclusion of the blessing.

So, just to sum up, we noted that:

  • The brachah for Yerushalayim begins with a prayer for the city, but then adds and element about King David, even though the next brachah focuses on David.

  • The next brachah begins with King David, but then abandons him mid-brachah, choosing to focus instead on Divine salvation.

What happened? Why do these brachot take such interesting turns?

It turns out that these two brachot underwent fundamental shifts from their original language. These shifts reflected additions to the tefillah as Judaism faced internal threats and turmoil, as well as ideological shifts that drove a need to change the language of prayer. In addition, they may well reflect a divergence of opinions between the rabbinic communities in Israel, and their counterparts in the Babylonian Diaspora.


To be continued...


Monday, March 2, 2026

The Conservative Revolutionary - A Window in the Psak of Rav Moshe Feinstein zt"l

This past Shabbat in Mekor Rishon, Rav Shabtai Rappaport, who is married to the granddaughter of Rav Moshe Feinstein, published a long retrospective on his relationship with - and undertanding of - perhaps the greatest American posek of the twentieth century. 

The article traces his history with Rav Moshe, his powerful impressions of this great man, and a critical section on Rav Moshe's understanding of how to issue halachic rulings. I'm assuming that the editors of the paper appreciated the irony in Rabbi Rappaport's claim that Rav Moshe was a halachic conservative, when they named the piece, "The Conservative Revolutionary." 

While the full piece in Hebrew is not yet up on the site - I will like to it when it goes up - I took the time to have ChatGPT transcribe and translate the part of the piece that relates to Rav Moshe's halachic rulings. I think it's accurate, but there might be minor errors. Nonetheless, I found the description of Rav Moshe's view on psak both fascinating and critical, due to its understanding of the need for a psak that adapts to changing realities, alongside a steadfast refusal to admit to the innovative and adaptive spirit at the heart of this type of psak. 


Rav Moshe’s Methodology in Halachic Ruling

In my view, Rabbi Moshe was a complete halachic conservative—but not conservative in the sense of stagnation. Rather, conservative in the sense of deep-rooted fidelity. He saw himself as a faithful continuator of the halachic tradition across generations and did not believe he had the authority to innovate on the basis of the “spirit of the times.” He wrote many times that we do not have the right, through one pilpul or another, to render our predecessors mistaken, Heaven forbid. What they ruled, they ruled in accordance with the law. It is inconceivable that a generation would declare something untrue, even inadvertently, due to ignorance of reality. Our responsibility is not to correct earlier generations, but to clarify the halacha from the foundations they laid.

From this did not emerge stagnation, but rather a profound dynamism. In Rabbi Moshe’s world, halacha is not an abstract system suspended in midair; it applies to reality—and our perception and understanding of that reality is a living, constantly evolving process. The conception of reality held by earlier generations is not a fixed and immutable doctrine carved in stone, nor does it bind us. When our understanding of reality changes, this does not mean that the Torah changes. Rather, the manner in which we apply it requires renewed clarification. Not because the generation is more modern, but because the knowledge at our disposal has changed. Fidelity to tradition demands fidelity to the reality upon which it operates.

For this reason, Rabbi Moshe often relied on his son-in-law—my father-in-law—Rabbi Prof. Moshe David Tendler z”l, who stood by his side in understanding contemporary scientific perspectives. In this respect he had disagreements with several poskim who sanctified the medical assumptions of earlier generations. Rabbi Moshe was revolutionary precisely out of rooted conservatism, carefully distinguishing between eternal Torah truth and changing scientific conceptions.

So too, for example, in his ruling regarding the determination of the moment of death. In earlier generations, when electrocardiographic monitoring did not exist and precise tools for measuring cardiac activity were unavailable, death was determined based on accepted external signs. We are not permitted to conclude that they erred and buried a living person; they ruled according to the knowledge available to them. However, in a generation that possesses precise medical instruments, if monitoring shows cardiac activity—the person is alive. The halacha has not changed; what has changed is our ability to clarify reality. Indeed, fidelity to tradition obligates us to use the intellectual tools of our time in order to rule correctly.

The same applies in the social sphere. The Talmudic principle “Tav le-meitav tan du mi-le-meitav armelu” (literally: “Better to sit as two than to sit as a widow”), from which various halachic implications were derived, reflects a reality in which a woman saw marriage as an almost absolute value, despite a husband’s flaws. Rabbi Moshe argued simply that in our present reality this assumption is not necessarily correct. A woman in our generation is not prepared to remain married at any cost, and may at times prefer remaining single to living within a harmful or dysfunctional framework. In accordance with this understanding, he ruled that it is possible to annul a marriage retroactively if it constituted a mekach ta’ut—a mistaken transaction—according to contemporary standards. If the underlying social assumption has changed, a posek may not continue building upon a previous premise as though nothing has occurred. This is not the adoption of foreign values nor an ideological revolution; it is a faithful clarification of the reality to which halacha applies. In this matter as well, he stood courageously against those who disagreed with him.

In Rabbi Moshe’s view, reliance on rulings and on the books of earlier decisors is not the essential work of a true posek. Authentic halachic decision-making is a new edifice that the posek constructs through careful study of the Gemara and the words of the Rishonim and Acharonim, and through that process redefines the relevant halachic categories. Such psak makes it possible to rule leniently even where others are stringent—and obligates stringency where others are lenient. However, when a ruling is merely transmitted from books or from other decisors, it does not carry that authority. If it has spread and become accepted practice, one may rely upon it within the boundaries of established custom, but one may not derive new conclusions from it. For that, one must descend to the roots.

For this reason, he opposed the publication of abbreviated halachic summaries extracted from his responsa. For someone who did not ask the original question, the value of the responsum lies not in its practical bottom line but in the detailed analytic process. A posek’s final ruling is addressed to a specific questioner in a specific context; the reader may weigh its reasoning, but bears responsibility for determining whether the ruling applies to his own situation. Out of methodological humility, he saw himself as a teacher offering his students a conceptual framework for their own judgment.

Another clear example of his approach to changing reality is his ruling regarding milk in modern countries. The rabbinic decree concerning chalav akum (“milk of non-Jews”) was enacted to prevent the possibility that non-kosher milk might be mixed in. The traditional definition of such milk is milk that a Jew did not supervise at the time of milking. However, in modern countries there exists a regulatory system overseeing the dairy industry, and there is no practical possibility of mixing in prohibited milk. Rabbi Moshe ruled that such milk is effectively supervised by virtue of its production process and is therefore considered chalav Yisrael. This was not the abrogation of a rabbinic decree nor a flashy leniency, but rather a clarification of the underlying rationale of the decree and its precise scope of application.