Audio Shiur: The Three Oaths - Why Some People Don't Celebrate Yom Ha'atzmaut - and Why They're Wrong

Audio Shiur:
The Three Oaths - Why Some People Don't Celebrate Yom Ha'atzmaut - and Why They're Wrong

The three oaths appear in a very famous passage in Masechet Ketubot, and represent one of the basic texts of the anti-Zionist movement. We begin the shiur with a "hook" from Parashat Metzora

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Raising Religious Zionist Children: A Question of Education

So much of what takes place in the Jewish world revolves around education – or the lack thereof. The recent controversy surrounding the "Hilltop Youth" is to me, first and foremost, an education issue. Somehow, teachers, rabbis and educators failed to reach these young people before they abandoned home and school for the "freedom" of the hilltop. At the same time, the growing alienation between Israel and America also relates to education and a failure to properly communicate critical values through both parenting, but also our educational system.

Nowhere does education play a more significant role in the Torah than in the story of the exile and subsequent redemption from Egypt. God tells Moshe explicitly that education must play an essential role in the process of the Redemption and the formation of the Jewish Nation. God tells Moshe that He has hardened Par'oh's heart,

וּלְמַעַן תְּסַפֵּר בְּאָזְנֵי בִנְךָ וּבֶן-בִּנְךָ, אֵת אֲשֶׁר הִתְעַלַּלְתִּי בְּמִצְרַיִם, וְאֶת-אֹתֹתַי, אֲשֶׁר-שַׂמְתִּי בָם; וִידַעְתֶּם, כִּי-אֲנִי ה'. (שמות י', ב')

So that you will tell in the ears of your son and your grandson what I have wrought upon Egypt, and My signs which I have placed upon them; so that you may know that I am the LORD.' (Shemot 10:2)

We are also commanded to teach our children about the story of the Exodus on the night of Pesach – the ultimate educational experience.

But what happens when education is missing? What happens when parents and teachers don't provide the education that our children need and deserve? To answer this question, I share a novel answer to a classic question from the beginning of Sefer Shemot.

At the outset of Shemot, we learn that a new ruler arose to lead Egypt, אשר לא ידע את יוסף – "who did not know Yosef." (Shemot 1:8) This raises the obvious question: How could it be possible for a ruler to arise over Egypt who had never heard of the man who single-handedly saved not only their country, but the entire region from starvation? Rashi suggests that, "he made himself as if he did not know Yosef" – meaning that, like so many world leaders that followed throughout history, Par'oh chose to ignore the past in his desire to persecute the Jews. Yet, that's not the simple meaning of the words. Rabbi Yosef Bechor Shor explains simply that he neither "recognized him, nor knew of him." This of course only begs the question: How is this possible?

I found a very simple, compelling answer in a commentary on Chumash called “Meir Einei Yesharim” written by Rabbi Meir Schwartzman, who served for many years as a rabbi and dayyan in Winnipeg, Canada. (You can download the full Sefer on Hebrewbooks.org here.) He explains that it is indeed possible that the new king never heard of Joseph. How is this possible? He suggests that a new Pharaoh would never have heard of Joseph because a previous government erased any memory of Joseph’s existence. Rabbi Schwartzman writes,

When a new party succeeds in wrestling the bridle of government from a rival faction...then it removes from their positions all of those officials that were appointed from the previous government and it appoints only those officials who it trusts to fulfill its demands, and all the laws that were enacted by the previous ministers and legislators are annulled...and even the textbooks in the schools are switched...so that the students do not learn the story of the greatness of this hero or that warrior…
When Marshall [Jozef] Pidulski was exiled from the Polish government (1923-1926), his adversaries removed his picture from the official schoolbooks... and when Hitler arose at the helm of Germany, they revised and printed new school books and encyclopedias... so that in an instant someone who had been a hero and redeemer was transformed into a rebel against his people and country - a liar and a traitor... those who could not be tainted were totally erased from the historical record, as if they had never been born...
This, I believe, is what happened in Egypt. Even though a new king arose over Egypt, nonetheless he did not know of Joseph and had never even heard of him, for the enemies of Pharaoh who ruled when Joseph was young later took control of the government into their hands...and the entire story of Joseph’s greatness and how he saved the nation from famine, all of which was undoubtedly found in the national record... all of this was hidden or intentionally destroyed.

According to Rav Schwartzman, Par'oh never heard of Yosef because a previous government erased him from Egyptian history. How could Egyptian children know about a man if they were never taught? By that very same token, is it really that surprising to see Arabs refuse to acknowledge Israel's right to exist when Jewish history has been erased from their school curriculum?

Here in Israel, Religious Zionist parents assume that our children will not only assimilate our passion for the Land, but that they will also acquire our love for the State – the government and the rule of law – with all of its warts. Yet, the "Hilltop Youth" are teaching us that while we might be channeling our religious fervor to our kids, for some of them, we are failing to communicate the values of democracy, equality and freedom for all crucial to civil society.

By that very same token, while we might believe strongly in the importance of Eretz Yisrael, I am beginning to think that we don’t teach that passion properly, in a source-based manner, especially in the Diaspora where Zionism and Religious Zionism are often not properly emphasized or valued. I remember a number of conversations with parents who sent their children to non-Zionist yeshivot, and then expressed surprise and disappointment when those children returned home with values that did not include a love for the Jewish State. I would often caution parents: "Don’t send your children to a school and expect them not to absorb the school's ideology." It seems so simple and obvious. And yet, so many parents make this very mistake.

In the end, it boils down to education. If it's important enough, we teach it to our children, with love, patience and clarity. If not, we should not be surprised when we recognize that they lack the passion and love for Israel that we hold so dear.

Audio Shiur: Parshat Shelach - The Failure of the Spies (and our Challenge Today)

Audio Shiur:
Parshat Shelach - The Failure of the Spies (and our Challenge Today)

Chazal give a number of explanations for the spies' negative report about the Land of Israel. We discuss a number of them, and then study a piece from Rav Shaul Yisraeli in Siach Shaul, in which he describes where he think they went wrong, and what we must learn from their failure as we build the Jewish State today. You can download the source sheet with the commentary from the Siach Shaul here.

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Audio Shiur: Why You Should Live in Israel According to Rav Shaul Yisraeli

Audio Shiur:
Why You Should Live in Israel According to Rav Shaul Yisraeli


Rav Yisraeli, in essay on Yom Ha'atzmaut, offers a number of suggestions why it's better for a religious Jew to live in Israel than in Passaic. But his final answer, quoting Rav Kook, sets our sights much, much higher.

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Bnei Akiva's New Recruitment Campaign

Happy Birthday Rav Shlomo

Last night, Rena and I traveled to Modiin to participate in a birthday party for a good friend, Rav Shlomo Sobol, the rav of Kehillat Shaarei Yona Menachem in Modiin, and also a founder of the Barkai Center for Rabbinic Training (based out of his shul). The shul was throwing the party (which is rather unique. I can't think of another shul that I know of that threw its rav a birthday party. It speaks to a really special relationship between a shul a its rav.), and they asked me to say a few words.
I mentioned to the community that we became close with the Sobol family over the four years that they spent in Metro Detroit, he as the Rosh Kollel of the Kollel Torah Mitzion. We ran programs, taught Torah, and spent many hours together, and today the Sobols are close friends. I also noted how the Kollel, following the Sobols' instructions, spoke about aliyah, and the importance of aliyah, at every turn. Pretty much every shiur was about aliyah and every conversation ended up leading in that direction as well. At some point I went to Rav Sobol and told him, "Stop talking about aliyah! Yes, it's important, but no one wants to hear it anymore, and they're starting to tune you out." The Kollel tuned the message down a bit, and things worked out fine.
Ironically, I guess, my family listened, as here we are.
I've been thinking about this issue especially in light of B'nei Akiva's recently unveiled campaign to recruit new Shlichim to represent and work for the organization around the world. I opened an Alon Shabbat and saw the following ad:

The caption: The plane is ready. Now it's your turn.
I don't question the great work that B'nei Akiva does, nor do I doubt their sincere desire to encourage aliyah. Yet, I wonder whether this ad campaign is all that realistic, or even true.
Sure, communities want B'nei Akiva representatives, and pay a great deal of money to bring them. Yet, they're not simply bringing representatives of Nefesh B'nefesh. They want these dedicated young people to teach their children a whole host of values, including devotion to Am Yisrael, the importance of the Jewish State, the religious value of serving the Jewish people, educational aspects of Religious Zionism - the list goes on and on. And, if exposure to these great role models inspires a young person to want to live in Israel - terrific.
But that doesn't seem to be the message of the ad. It's seems to encourage the notion that the shlichim are being sent to bring as many bodies as possible back on Aliyah.
I wonder how the communities in America feel about their shlichim being marketed in this manner.

Even more surprising is the other ad in the campaign:

Caption: There are Jews that this doesn't seem strange to...

To the best of my knowledge, most (if not all) B'nei Akiva shlichim in the United States are hosted by Orthodox communities. While these communities may not be chareidi, the vast majority of their members aren't putting up Christmas trees, last I checked. I wonder how many opportunities these shlichim will have to interact with families that are both lighting a Channukiah and also setting up a tree for Christmas?
I wonder what kind of expectations the new crop of recruits will have, when they land in Cleveland to discover that they're not going to save the world, nor will they successfully fill a plane of Olim who will jump to accompany them back on their return flight home. Rather, they're going to staff a Snif, create meaningful programs for children, teach Torat Eretz Yisrael, and hopefully instill a sense of Religious Zionism in the people they work with.
It seems that today, those laudable goals are no longer sufficient to attract good recruits. You have to make them believe that they really will save the world.
I just hope that next year's shlichim are not overly disappointed when they discover that reality isn't so exciting.

Shabbat Aliyah in Antwerp Part 2: Will the Last Person Out, Please Turn off the Lights

In 2004, I wrote an article for the OU’s Jewish Action Magazine called, “In Search of Leaders,” lamenting the toll that aliyah was taking on my attempt to build a committed Modern Orthodox Jewish community. All assumed (incorrectly) that I was decrying aliyah; some applauded the article while others openly defended life in Chutz L’aretz. Yet, the principle thesis of the article – that aliyah was emptying American Modern Orthodoxy of many of its strongest leaders – both lay and professional – remained sound.

I didn’t really know how sound until this past Shabbat, which I spent as a representative of the Jewish Agency speaking about Aliyah over what they called, “Shabbat Lech Lecha.”

Each year, the Jewish Agency (and other sub-groups whose logos must legally appear in this blog post) sends representatives to cities around the world to strengthen ties between the community and Israel and encourage Aliyah. It just so happens that a young man who shares a bench with me in shul spent two years in Antwerp several years ago as a Shaliach Bnei Akiva, and he remains close with many of the community members. He also has ties to the Jewish Agency, so when he heard about this program, he asked me whether I’d go to Antwerp for Shabbat, mostly to speak to the kids in Bnei Akiva. I agreed, and that’s how I ended up in Antwerp for Shabbat Lech Lecha.

Several things strike you (or at least me) immediately upon visiting Antwerp. The Jewish community (at least the Orthodox community) is situated in an extremely small area in the most congested downtown location of the city; kind of like living in Manhattan – except with smaller buildings, most only six or seven stories. This is because the community settled in very close proximity to the Diamond Exchange, which is within walking (or biking – everyone bikes in Antwerp) distance.

All Belgians they speak at least three languages: Flemish, French and English. Most, if not all Jews, even Chareidim, speak Hebrew, a fourth language, and many Jews speak Hebrew as their primary language. In fact, in both Jewish Day schools where I spoke, I spoke to the children in Hebrew which they understood perfectly. Their Hebrew is probably better than mine.

It’s amazing to me how communities around the world suffer from similar problems. Like Detroit, which had a smaller, more Orthodox Religious Zionist day school (Akiva) and a wealthier, less religious, better attended high school (the Jewish Academy), Antwerp had two schools: Yavneh (150 students across all grades) and Tachkemoni (600-700 students). While the bulk of Tachkemoni’s students are not religious, Yavneh is squarely Religious Zionist, with separate boys and girls schools (in the same building, separated by the Rosh Yeshiva’s office). That’s right: 150 total students; separate boys’ and girls’ studies beginning in seventh grade. The high school classes that I saw numbered in the small single digits. If you’re wondering how they possibly can afford to keep the school afloat, in Belgium private schools receive money from the state. That probably helps quite a bit.

Here’s the most surprising aspect of Yavneh by far: one hundred percent of its graduates make Aliyah. That’s right: all of them. I wasn’t there to convince them to make Aliyah; they’re all going to do that anyway, something they openly admitted. Rather, I was there to strengthen their sense of Jewish identity, and to offer them words of encouragement and chizzuk, a mission I feel that I accomplished. Their parents actively encourage them to go learn in Yeshiva in Israel and then either join the army or study in university in Israel and then make aliyah. Not one family that I met did not have at least one child, if not more, who already lives in Israel.

This slow migration is clearly having a devastating effect on the Religious Zionist Community of Antwerp. While the Chareidi chadarim and yeshivot continue to grow, the one true RZ shul, Mizrachi, boasts a regular Shabbat minyan of approximately fifty to sixty men. (I couldn’t see the women’s section), a number which, I was told by more than one person, used to be more than double that. While most children daven at B’nei Akiva (the Snif is actually a huge building complex), the average age at shul could not have been less than fifty. Simply put, the community is aging, and there are no young people who are moving in to pick up the slack. The entire experience was very surreal. One mother I spoke to talked proudly of her children leaving Antwerp, never to return permanently, telling me, “There’s nothing for them here.”

This fact was most striking during the dinner the Shlichim coordinated for college-age students (and those working as well). We put out the word on Facebook, and while a couple (literally two) didn’t join us, there were seven young people at the Shabbat table. That’s it. The rest are long gone.

While the Jewish Agency (in Israel) doesn’t play an outwardly prominent role in Jewish life in Antwerp, the role it plays behind the scenes is crucial. Many of the Judaic Studies teachers are or were Shelichim, sent from Israel for a limited period of time. The Rosh Yeshiva (Rav Herschkovitz) who also serves as the rabbi of the Yavneh shul is serving his second year of Shlichut. Bnei Akiva is coordinated by Shlichim – and the Bnei Akiva clearly plays a critical communal role; many kids daven at the Snif every Shabbat, and they all attend Snif on Shabbat afternoon, where the high school kids coordinate programming for the younger children. Without the Sochnut, Antwerp’s RZ community would have long ago turned to more Chareidi-oriented educators and leaders, ultimately changing the very nature of their own community.

Clearly Antwerp is a unique, unusual community. I’ve traveled to schools across North America and cannot think of a school where you could speak Hebrew to the entire student body and they would not only understand, but converse with you in Hebrew as well. (It made the American notion of Ivrit B’ivrit seem pathetic.) As I spoke with the kids about Jewish identity and how Americans often struggle with a dual sense of fidelity to America and Judaism and the possible conflict between the two (as in, are you an American Jew or a Jewish American), while the Belgian kids found the topic fascinating they simply couldn’t relate. They have no sense of pride in being citizens of Belgium. (They claim that most Belgians don’t either) It seemed clear to me that this lack of pride in being Belgian (Belsh?) had a great deal to do with their willingness to leave their country for Israel. After all, if you don’t identify with where you live, why stay?

I wonder how long the community will be able to sustain itself, keeping the school open and the Bnei Akiva active. At what point are there just not enough kids? At what point does it no longer make sense to run an entire school? Antwerp used to be flush with profits from the diamond industry, but numerous people made it clear that the good old days are long gone, and that many of the community’s wealthiest, most influential members had left, taking their assets with them to…you guessed it: Israel.

Commenting on this phenomenon, most of the Israelis I spoke with had a single response: “Baruch Hashem.” Indeed, who can complain about the fact that a community’s children are slowly but surely settling in the Jewish State. After all, it’s where they belong.

But I wonder about an Orthodox community without a Modern Orthodox element. Are we truly unnecessary to the greater frum community and they’ll do fine without us, or do we play a larger communal role that will be missed when there’s no significant RZ community, shul or school to speak of? I doubt that anyone in the Chareidi community will admit it, but I wonder how Orthodoxy in Antwerp will change when the last person at the Mizrachi Shul turns out the lights.

Shabbat "Aliyah" in Antwerp 1 - The Airport

I was sent to Antwerp, Belgium this Shabbat, representing the Jewish Agency for what they called Shabbat Aliyah. Apparently, they send representatives out to communities around the world on Shabbat Lech Lecha (seems to be an appropriate parshah) to try and encourage aliyah and a connection to Israel. (I'm not sure that they did such a great job advertising the program. Just google "shabbat aliyah bnei akiva")

I wonder how much a person can do in a single Shabbat. Probably not much. But if you’re part of a larger effort; if you’re one gear in a much larger machine – then every little bit really does help.

I still find myself impressed that the State of Israel sent me to another country to encourage Jews to connect to the country. There’s no other country in the world that actively seeks out people to come emigrate; no country in the world that cares enough for its people – and Jews are Israel’s people – that it spends fantastic sums to try and encourage its people to return home.

At the airport, I a “chutz-la’aretz” experience which I shared with the students who I spoke with over the weekend. As soon as I got into the security line in Ben Gurion, I found myself standing next to a group of travelers – probably about fifteen or twenty men and women (and a few teens), mostly between the ages of forty and sixty. Yet, the group was striking for their sheer size. They were all quite tall; the men must have all been six-three or above; the women were all at least as tall as me. They were imposing, just standing there, in the line next to mine, at the Ben Gurion Airport security line. Listening for a few moments, it became clear that they were speaking German, and a thought flash of recognition – or maybe identification in some small way – raced through my mind.

It was a long wait on line. And as we stood there, we began to chat, as people on line often do. They were indeed German, and wonderful people, on their way home from a week-long vacation. It just so happened that there was a frum woman standing behind me with a baby in a stroller, and after she asked me about my upcoming trip, she turned to the woman behind me, assuming that we were travelling together and assumed, aloud, that she too would be traveling with me.

“Oh no,” she said, “we’re not from the same family.” But then she added, in a slightly lower tone that I clearly heard but doubt the woman from Germany caught, “At least not in directly. But we are in the larger sense.”

Hearing her comment, I turned to and wondered, “Were you thinking what I was thinking?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Exactly the same thing.”

What Were the Spies Thinking? Translating Belief into Action

When the Spies returned from their tour of the Land with the wonderful attributes of Eretz Yisrael, they submitted their negative, pessimistic report, describing how, in their minds, the attempt to conquer the Land of Israel would lead to the destruction of the Jewish people. This of course led to a tragic night of mourning and a rejection of the Divine plan to conquer the Holy Land. As opposed to Kalev, who told the people, עלה נעלה וירשנו אותה – "we will go up and conquer it," (13:30), the spies counter by telling them, לא נוכל לעלות אל העם – "we cannot overcome the nation."
This leads me to wonder, according to the Meraglim, what were the Jewish people supposed to do? While the nation later suggests that they go back to Egypt, we never find any mention of the Spies themselves making that suggestion. If they didn't think that they should return to Egypt, but rejected the possibility of military conquest, what then did the think the Jewish nation was actually supposed to do?
I believe that they never really got that far.
The Meraglim did believe in the importance of Eretz Yisrael as an ideal. After all, if God wanted the Jewish people to be in Eretz Yisrael, who were they to argue? But they saw that belief as independent of any kind of action. They lived in their own Ivory Tower, where they could consider ideas and values without concern for real-world ramifications. To them, belief wasn't necessarily connected to action. The ideal of Eretz Yisrael didn't necessarily mandate doing something to actualize that ideal. How would it happen? Good question – but not one that the Meraglim concerned themselves with.
Yet, nothing can be farther from the truth.
According to Wikipedia, Ideology is defined as,

a set of ideas that constitute one's goals, expectations, and actions. An ideology can be thought of as a comprehensive vision, as a way of looking at things (compare worldview), as in several philosophical tendencies (see political ideologies), or a set of ideas proposed by the dominant class of a society to all members of this society (a "received consciousness" or product of socialization). The main purpose behind an ideology is to offer either change in society, or adherence to a set of ideals where conformity already exists, through a normative thought process.

In other words, you cannot divorce ideology from actions. The Spies had no right to simply say, "Look, we're just telling you what we see. It's not our problem what happens afterwards." Their ideas – and the fear that they spread – had very real consequences, and any attempt to claim otherwise rang hollow.
I've been thinking about this notion of ideology devoid of action, because I recently got myself involved in a minor dispute with Rabbi Gil Student, the author and owner of the popular Hirhurim blog. It all started rather innocently, with Rabbi Student posting a lovely video from Shlomo Katz depicting many nice Kotel scenes, along with the following text:

This is why, despite the many challenges of the State of Israel, I consider myself a Zionist. So many of our prayers have already been answered, but others not yet.

I couldn't hold back, and commented on the blog,

Let me understand correctly: you’re only a Zionist because you believe that our prayers have been answered. And if they weren’t answered, you would not be a Zionist? If, God forbid, we were to take a step backwards, as we did seven years ago, would that make you less of a Zionist? What exactly do you mean? What is a Zionist in your mind – someone who believes that Moshiach has come – or may be coming, or partially has come?
I thought that Zionists were people who believed not only that HKB”H would return to Zion, but that we too would do so ourselves, as He commands us to do. See this week’s parshah for more information. It seems that we throw around the term Zionist without exactly defining what it means, and what obligations it implies.

This led to the following extended discussion:

Rabbi Student: So according to you, someone who makes aliyah is a Zionist and someone who does not is not? Was Rav Soloveitchik a Zionist? Are Rav Schachter and Rav Blau? Were you before you made aliyah? Are your parents? One step backward is just a setback. If there was ch”v another exile, I would stop being a Zionist. I use the term Zionism as describing a belief system. Apparently others use it differently.
Me: Doesn’t a belief system necessarily obligate? Or, is your armchair Zionism the type that sits back and watches while other people build the Land of Israel for you? And those names that you mentioned – all of them worked (the Rav) or work tirelessly to advance the causes of the State of Israel. Your initial comment – and the ones that followed, imply strongly that you are a Zionist because from what you can tell (from nice videos and the like) things are going nicely here (and I infer that you think there’s some level of geulah going on). My understanding of Zionism is one that requires some effort – even from afar, to advance the cause of the Jewish nation.
Rabbi Student: I consider that to be a mistaken opinion. I believe that someone can believe in the Torah without studying it, although he should study it. And someone can believe in God without following His commands, although he should. And he can believe in Zionism without making aliyah, although he should.
Me: I try not to rub aliyah in the face of people who live in the States, but you seem to think that we should honor your life choice as a personal decision with no religious or spiritual implications. When I lived in the States, I acknowledged the tension and the pressure to live in Israel. I was actively involved in AIPAC and other efforts to support the Jewish State. That’s the very least that you can and should do.

Judaism isn't simply a religion of dogma. It's a religion of action. Of course God wants us to believe. But He also demands that we translate that faith into concrete reality on the ground, by learning Torah and following the mitzvot; by creating faith communities dedicated to spreading the d'var Hashem, and yes, by working together to reestablish the Jewish Nation as a ממלכת כהנים in the Holy Land.
Of course God cares what we believe. But He also wants to know, "What are you going to do about it?"

Are we One Movement Anymore? The Problem and Challenge of Religious Zionism

by Rabbi Reuven Spolter, Director of Student Recruitment

Following the (recently cancelled) announcement of early elections here in Israel, the Religious Zionist movement found itself in a familiar position: unprepared. After years of leadership in the Knesset, the religious Zionist movement splintered over ideological grounds into two generally distinct groups which then aligned themselves into distinct political parties. Habayit Hayehudi places its emphasis on religious Zionist activity throughout Israel while stressing the importance of involvement within greater Israeli society. On the other hand, the Ichud Haleumi (sadly, they haven't really updated their website in three years! If you'd really like to see just how sad the split it, see here.) finds itself more attuned to rabbinic instruction and direction, and places a far greater emphasis on settlement of the Land of Israel over other values.
While the split reflects genuine differences in a very diverse community, it also has significantly weakened the Religious Zionist community's influence and political clout. Instead of one political party with eight Knesset seats (and the power, influence and financial wherewithal that brings), the greater movement founds itself with two parties of four seats each, one of which found itself a member of the majority in the soon-defunct government (with the "important" portfolio of Science and Technology – and yes, I am being sarcastic when I say “important”) while the other remained in the opposition, left with little to no political power at all. The split truly cost us all. The question we must contemplate is: Can we find a way to reunite? Can we restore the power that we should have (and badly need), or, due to our unwillingness to find common ground, will we continue to diminish our influence and thereby fail to properly influence broader Israeli society?

Orot's Amadot Conference Schedule

At Orot’s recent Amadot Conference, Rabbi Yuval Sherlo, Rosh Yeshiva of the Yeshivat Hesder Petach Tikvah participated in a panel that addressed this vexing question: Are we one movement? And, more importantly, can we remain a united force, or have we become so divided that we can no longer operate as a single unit.
Rav Sherlo made a number of fascinating points that I’d like to share.
Legitimacy: One of the critical measures of whether groups have split irreversibly is how they relate to each other. Put another way, do they relate to one another as legitimate? That is the difference between machloket – dispute – and division. As long as both groups legitimize each other, they can remain united. Yet, if one group refuses to acknowledge that the position of the other might be wrong – but still remains legitimate, and instead insists that the position of the other is not legitimate, then they have lost any sense of common ground, and rupture is inevitable.
Marriage: Do groups within the framework marry each other? Rav Sherlo pointed out that the Mishnah (Yevamot 1:4) emphasizes that despite all of the great disputes between Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel, לא נמנעו מלישא זה עם זה – “they did not refrain from marrying with each other.” Can we same the same about different Religious Zionist groups today? He explained that he teaches at Migdal Oz (a rather left-wing women’s seminary), and he has yet to witness a wedding between a Migdal Oz girl and a yeshiva student from Har Hamor (a very right-wing yeshiva). This is a matter for concern. To what degree have we split ideologically so far, that little, if any interaction remains between the two groups that fall under the broad umbrella of Religious Zionism?
Language: The language of ideology doesn’t lend itself to compromise. Ideology articulates a specific vision, a worldview which represents idealism in its purest sense. It speaks to the world which we would create – if only we had the power to actualize our dreams. Platforms of ideology don’t often include words like love, compromise, mutual respect and the like. Imagine a marriage based solely on ideology, where words like those didn’t exist. How long would such a marriage last? Not long.
Rav Sherlo noted that we also suffer from two mutually exclusive beliefs. We believe that the world not only wants what we have to offer, but is waiting for us to save it. We have the truth – the combination of Torah and real life; of Religiosity and Zionism, of spirituality and worldliness – that provides the proper path for the Jewish Nation. Yet, at the very same time we also believe that the same world hates us: the secular press can’t stand us; the European Union is trying to topple us; the Israeli Supreme Court can’t stand us; the Chareidim attack us at every turn.
So which do we really believe? Does the world look to us to save it, or is it trying to bring us down? 
Rav Sherlo suggested that the solution to all of these challenges lies in a single word: Relax. We need to find the proper balance that pulls on Religious Zionism at all times. Our community defines itself in a kind of musical tone: Religious-Zionism; Yeshivat-Hesder; Kibbutz-Hadati. (He compared it to a metronome, which sways from side to side in rhythm.) Each side pulls on the other. Is it Religious? Or is it Zionism? Is it a Yeshiva? Or is it Hesder (part of the army)?
If we can learn to Relax, and see the value inherent in each of these seemingly contradictory terms, then the tension between them has the potential to draw us even closer together. In fact, the fact that the two parties formally agreed this week to run as a single party gives cause for hope. (Although the proof is in the pudding. With elections now pushed off for another year, a lot can happen between now and next October.)
On the other hand, if we cannot or will not learn to relax, and instead insist on remaining absolutists; if we continue to insist that we can only define ourselves in the most literal sense, then the forces pulling on the two sides of Religious Zionism have the chilling potential to irrevocably tear us apart.

Defining Success in Modern Orthodoxy: Thoughts on Rav Nosson Zvi Finkel

After I recently wrote about the upcoming thirtieth yahrtzeit of my father, a number of people commented on just how young he was when he died, leaving my mother to raise seven children between the ages of sixteen and two. Looking back, I continue to marvel at what she accomplished. Somehow, she raised each of us to follow in the values of Torah and Shemirat Hamitzvot. Each one of her children is an active, dedicated member of his or her Orthodox community, no small feat for a family that suffered such a devastating blow at such an early stage.

One interesting aspect of my family is the spectrum of Orthodoxy that we represent. From my brother in Florida and me (both of whom attended Yeshiva University) on the "modern" side of the spectrum, to my sisters who attended Stern College and married "yeshivish" (please excuse the generalizations) to another brother who first studied in yeshiva after high school but then went on to university and medical school, to my brother who learned for years in kollel and never attended college and sister whose husband studied in kollel in Lakewood for years. I'm not sure to what degree my mother guided each of our choices, but she honored them. My sister always wanted Beis Ya'akov Yerushalayim. My mother understood what that meant and supported her. When a brother transferred from Sha'alvim to Rav Zvi Kushelevsky's yeshiva, my mother stood behind him. In hindsight, she didn't seem to care where on the Orthodox spectrum we fell. But she did - and still does care deeply that we maintain our allegiance to Torah and mitzvot.

He was clearly proud of his upbringing.
Are his students?

It is in this context that I contemplate the recent passing of the late Mir Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Nosson Zvi Finkel. By now it's well known that Rav Finkel grew up in Chicago and attended what would later become the Ida Crown Jewish Academy. That revelation brought me to wonder: When a modern Orthodox institution educates a child who then goes on to accept some most tenets of its ideology, but reject others, is that a success? Or, better yet, to what degree is that a success? If you find the question provocative, ask it the other way around: If a graduate of a right-wing yeshiva grew up to become a major Modern Orthodox leader and thinker (perhaps like this giant), would that institution proudly promote the accomplishments of its graduate? Or would it instead say (as was quoted in Ha'aretz) about Rav Finkel that while,

"He grew up on baseball, American kosher hotdogs, apple pie and everything else that represents the American Jewish scene. He transcended all - in order to develop into a personality that develops other personalities."

In other words, he had to overcome his upbringing in order to become the Rosh Yeshiva that he became. Yesterday, my wife and kids watched a video report on Israel National News about the funeral, which included commentary from a number of people including Rabbi Avrohom Goldstein, the Co-head of the Diaspora Yeshiva in Jerusalem, who said a number of times in his two minute narrative that Rav Finkel achieved greatness despite the fact that he, "Grew up from nothing and built himself into a giant." 

No, he didn't grow up from nothing. He grew up in a family that cherished Torah enough to send him to an Orthodox Jewish Torah school, an act we might now take for granted but certainly was not widely popular in the late fifties and early sixties when Rav Finkel attended high school. It was a major, significant expense that many families simply could not justify. But his parents paid that price, and reaped the benefits of merit and nachas in the accomplishments their son would achieve not despite his Torah education, but because of it.

I am sure that the Ida Crown Jewish Academy is, and should be proud that its graduate grew to become a major figure in the Orthodox world. As well it should be. Modern Orthodoxy need not be about creating replicas of ourselves. It must - and I think does correctly - realize that different students will find their unique relationship to Torah Judaism, and that Orthodoxy's message resonates in each of us differently. Were we to consider right-wing graduates as "failures" who we didn't properly educate (or more appropriately, "indoctrinate") to "our" values, I would consider the failure not in the child, but in the educational vision. Kids aren't stamps. They aren't clones. They must be given the leeway to find their own path in Torah, allowing them to thrive in the manner most appropriate to them.

My mother (and others as well), recognizing my passion for Religious Zionism, likes to needle me by asking, "What will you do if one of your children chooses Chareidi Judaism?" In essence she's asking, "How would you feel if your child rejected your way of life?" The question used to bother me more than it does now. I have grown to answer (truthfully, I think), "I would love and respect that child. If they want to be Chareidi, great! But," I always add, "I would make it quite clear: If you want be Chareidi, I will honor and respect your choice. But I'm not going to pay for it or support it." 

Rav Finkel didn't come from "nothing." He didn't "transcend" his American Torah education. That education encouraged him to strive to be the great Torah scholar he became. It gave him the foundation of values and skills which guided him for the rest of his life. It probably gave him the communication skills so critical to grow the Mir into the colossus it has become.

His life represents not a failure of Modern Orthodoxy, but yet another example of its great success.

Rav Benny Eisner, ob"m

Rav Benny Eisner, ob"m

This past Shabbat, Rav Benny Eisner passed away. He was not my teacher, but I did study with him, during my year in Israel at YU's Gruss Kollel. He was teaching at BMT (which was then housed at YU Israel), and happened to live next door, so he offered to teach Orot to the fellows of the Kollel. I must admit that I don't remember the material, but I remember his fire, and passion, and love. Men like Rav Benny played a fundamental role in shaping the last generation of American Orthodoxy, through the influence that they had over their students. I'm sharing with you the thoughts of my good friend, Rabbi Barry Gelman, who sent this message to his congregation about his rebbe, Rav Benny Eisner.

There are so many things I can say about the man who changed my life forever, but will limit myself to a few brief thoughts.
Rav Benny was a man of great faith in God. His faith was unwavering regardless what difficulties he struggled with in life. Even during the worst period of his illness he maintained his faith and believed that God loved him.
Rav Benny was a great lover of all Jews. To be sure, he had his opinions and tried to convince you that he was right, but it was never personal. I saw it in action so many times over the years. It was a wonder to behold and something I will never forget

Rabbi Gelman and his Rebbe

Rav Benny was a fierce defender and protector of Eretz Yisrael and Medinat Yisrael. For him, there was no question that the establishment of the State of Israel was a gift from God. I recall one evening he invited me to speak to a few of his students who were about to enter the Israeli Army. Before I spoke he told them to remember that serving in the Israeli army was the greatest privilege in the world. He once told a group of students that he tried to convince the army to let him continue to serve even after they discharge him because he had such a large family.
Rav Benny introduced me to a brand of Judaism that is full of joy, passion and compassion. Like a good Rebee he not only taught me how to learn, he taught me how to live. Words cannot express the gratitude I have for all that he did for me. 
This summer I spent time in the hospital with Rav Benny as he was having a chemotherapy treatment. Since the treatment was going to take several hours, I asked Rav Benny if he had the strength to learn some Torah with me. He said sure and then proceeded to take out a copy of a book called Tomer Devorah (a mussar book focused on imitating the attributes of God). I was amazed as I had just started studying that book shortly before my trip. When I told Rav Benny he was very excited to hear that I was studying it. I do not recall Rav Benny ever mentioned this particular book to me. I am not one to make mystical connection when these things happen. My joy came form the realization that even after so many years, Rav Benny's influence on me was still apparent as I had chosen to study a book that he thought was very important.
One of my biggest regreets is that my own children will not have a chance to learn from him directly. From time to time I would think about how wonderful it would be if my children could learn from him when they studied in Israel. That day will not come and it saddens me a great deal.
May His Soul Be Forever Bound Up In The Bonds of Life.

About Rav Benny Eisner:
Rav Binyamin Eisner, affectionately known as “Rav Benny” is Rav and mentor to thousands of talmidim throughout Eretz Yisrael and the United States. Friends and talmidim have been captivated by the initial greeting of “Shalom, ani Benny”, his infectious smile, his passion for Torat Eretz Yisrael, and the warmth of his wife and children. Today, Rav Benny and his family reside in Abu Tor. Rav Benny’s daily shiurim in Yeshivat Torat Shraga, Yeshivat Morasha, Eli and Ateret Kohanim continue to inspire hundreds of talmidim in Eretz Yisrael to this day!
Rav Benny was born in Har Hatzofim in Yerushalayim, attended elementary school in Tel Aviv, and spent his High School years in Kibbutz Yavneh. Following High School the Rav was inducted into the army and fought in the 1967 war. Rav Benny was part of a small brigade of officers with aging rifles and a short supply of bullets looking uphill at opposition tanks. Miraculously, the tanks fled and soon after the brigade recaptured the sacred area of Kever Rachel. Upon realization of the land they had reclaimed, Rav Benny exclaimed, “Rachel Rachel you can stop crying…your children have returned”.
Rav Benny began developing a close relationship with Rav Tzvi Yehuda hakohen Kook zt”l during his army service. He yearned to find a yeshiva that embraced Limud Hatorah together with Ahavat Eretz Yisrael. He found this combination in Rav Kook, developed a close personal relationship, and became his personal driver to many important meetings. Rav Benny’s entire family enjoyed a close connection with Rav Kook which they all treasure to this day.
Soon after the war, Rav Benny met his wife, Sarah Ulman. With the encouragement of his wife Sarah, Rav Benny embarked on his first teaching position in Kibutz Yavneh followed by several years in Ohr Etzion in Merkaz Shapiro.
Having cultivated a following of Israeli talmidim, Rav Benny embraced American talmidim at Yeshivat Beit Midrash L’Torah and concurrently began teaching in Yeshiva L’Tze’irim Merkaz Harav.
In the early 1980s, the organization Shlach Et Ami – “Let my People Go” was established in the Eisner home. Avital Sharansky pining for the release of her beloved husband, Anatoly became close friends with the Eisner family and the families have remained friends ever since.
As the years went by the Eisner home was filled with talmidim – and their own children (3 boys and 8 girls). The dining room lights and kitchen oven stayed on until the early hours of the morning as talmidim dropped-in for a lesson on Rov Kook, Torat Eretz Yisrael, Kedusha – or simply a late night snack. Their home was a revolving door and an address for Torah, warmth and acceptance.
The talmidim’s love and devotion continue to this day. The Eisner continue to take part in the lives of their tamidim, regularly traveling to weddings, brisim, and r”l other life cycle events.
Rav Benny has been invited to speak and lecture in Batei Knesset and Yeshivot throughout Israel and the United States. Rav Benny has had the privilege and longevity to have students who are second generation talmidim, young men whose parents were students of Rav Benny.
Shortly after Pesach of 5771 (2011), Rav Benny faced a diagnosis and a new challenge – an ailment (and treatment) that challenge his physical strength. Nonetheless, having seen his share of challenges, he is faithfully and whole-heartedly committed to rising above and continuing his holy work; living life, serving God, living in the Holy Land and inspiring and loving Jews wherever they may be.

Article: The Omer Imbalance

Over the course of history, the Jewish people have endured unspeakable suffering. From Churban to pogrom to exile to Inquisition, all leading up to the unimaginable losses during the Holocaust, we have plenty to mourn for. Yet, when we look at the Jewish calendar, while Chazal set aside Tisha B'av (and the Three Weeks) as a mourning period for basically everything else, we devote almost five full weeks to remember the deaths of Rabbi Akiva's students.

How can we devote so little of our calendar to the Holocaust, and so much of it to a seemingly smaller tragedy in the course of Jewish history? The answer to this question lies in a deeper understanding of why we mourn during Sefirat Ha'omer.

Click here to download the article in pdf format.