Author Archives: Rabbi

       Rutgers, a New Jersey State college, has joined the parade of moral dysfunction by approving what they term “gender-neutral” dorm rooms. In other words, students who feel “uncomfortable” living with roommates of the same sex can request roommates of the opposite sex. Ostensibly, this is designed to make homosexual students (or those of other alternative and atypical interests) more contented with their living arrangements so as to pre-empt tragedies such as last year’s suicide of an outed homosexual by his disapproving roommate. How this will prevent others from being similarly outed is a mystery, especially when they realize they are exposing themselves through the request itself. It is not uncommon for homosexuals to be persecuted by other homosexuals, struggling with their tendencies.

     This being a society that strives for fairness and equity in all spheres, Rutgers is unable to limit these options to the target group but must extend them to all. Thus, this gem (reported by Time.com): “In a titillating perk for heterosexual students, the ability to request an opposite-sex roommate is open to any student; Rutgers has no plans to ask about the sexual preferences of the person requesting a roommate or about the nature of the roommate relationship.   Parents unhappy with such an unorthodox dorm-room living situation are pretty much out of luck since housing contracts are signed by students. “We won’t be talking to parents about this,” says (Joan) Carbone (Rutgers’ executive director of residence life).”

    Well, such an arrangement certainly enables the male to avoid the tedium, expense and occasional painful rebuffs of the dating world – of actually courting a woman in a romantic sense, as opposed to merely perceiving her as an instrument of gratification of his physical needs. With this new arrangement, already found in several schools (including my alma mater, Columbia), the would-be Lothario has a paramour in hand, assuming she is willing and interested. And, if she is not, there is always the possibility of getting a new, more accommodating roommate.

     Undoubtedly, this setup will appeal to two groups in the heterosexual world: males with an inflated sense of their charms (an enormous number) and females with a pronounced inferiority complex and lack of self-esteem (I trust a much smaller number). Indeed, no self-respecting girl should ever embrace such an arrangement, and couples already living in an informal relationship would do well to focus on their studies and not live together in a faux marriage that is unlikely to endure but most likely to hamper their pursuit of knowledge and a career. But is that really what today’s college experience promises ?

     Now, some might argue that it is possible for a man and woman to live together platonically, as friends and roommates but not lovers. Count me as old-fashioned. I am sure it is “possible,” but is it probable ? Is it even desirable ? There is something quite sad about the death of desire that is surely attributable to the casual flings and hookups that characterize the social lives of the young, the heightened sexuality of modern culture that robs the young of their youth and innocence, and the pervasiveness of promiscuity and immorality. To have young men and women capable of interacting without any sexual tension between them – without any flirtation or romantic interest – is depressing. It is no wonder that most men express frustration and disappointment in that realm, and seek experiences outside the framework of marriages and family. By the time they get married – in their 30’s, according to the most recent statistics – they have seen it all and done it all. There is nothing really that special about the wedding or the marriage, and no compelling reason why the latter should endure. So, it doesn’t, or leaves both parties aching for fulfillment of their real goals in life and their dreams of (how is this for old-fashioned?) love.

        The misery of modern romance perhaps explains another gloomy statistic. The World Health Organization recently reported that Americans are the Western world’s biggest drug users. More than 16% of Americans have used cocaine (the closest country in the same study was New Zealand, at a little over 4% – and they’re at the end of the world!), and a whopping 42% have used marijuana. It is no wonder; life itself – the joys of spouses, families, conjugal pleasures, faith and friends – holds little long-term and persistent attraction. The “highs” can only be obtained artificially, and not in the real world. Furthermore, the array of lifestyle choices that is presented as “normal” has left many young people frustrated and sexually confused about something that should be natural and innate. Both the traumas of youth (that undoubtedly plays a role in their personal bewilderment) and the angst of adolescence are washed away through drink or drugs, but of course do not resolve the underlying issues that fester and eat away at their core.

      The modern university is not a citadel of ideas but a laboratory of social and sexual experimentation, a moral cesspool in which traditional values are mocked and traditional people are ill-at-ease. The Torah, which in any one chapter offers greater insight into human nature than one will find in any tome studied in university or in any of the tenured geniuses who teach there, recognizes the instinctual drives that shape the personality and therefore present the greatest moral challenge in life, but something else as well: to give free license to one’s instinctual nature does not deepen our enjoyment of physical pleasure but diminishes it – even deadens it.

       Thus have we become so desensitized to male-female pleasure that educators at distinguished universities can be so clueless as to the consequences of opposite-sex roommates. Thus have we been inundated with the necessity of mainstreaming homosexuality into our moral universe that those in charge of our children’s “residence life” on campus – for which the parents footing the bill may not be consulted – play matchmaker in a puzzle of ill-fitting parts.

    It should certainly make any parent think three or four times about the perils of secular college, which in one month can undo the effects of fifteen years (at an expense of hundreds of thousands of dollars) of yeshiva education. The yetzer hara (the part of man that pursues instinctual pleasure) is wily enough even when properly restrained; it is simply uncontrollable when the illicit is given free rein and provided the imprimatur of virtue and self-actualization. That is the death of any moral aspirations, as well as a certain way to deprive the participant of the capacity to experience any real pleasure. It also does not really enhance, or fulfill the essential purpose, of attending college.

     Perhaps those who wish to “take back” America can set these as worthwhile objectives, in addition to getting government off our backs and out of our pockets:  to end America’s dependence on narcotics, alcohol and other stimulants as the mediums of “pleasure,” to reclaim modesty, chastity and purity as educational goals and not merely as preachers’ tools, and to shun the purveyors of debauchery that has insidiously raided our homes and hearts and left many without the ability to feel, or even to recognize decadence for what it is.

     Indeed, the most troubling aspect of this policy is that its progenitors perceive it as enlightened instead of perverse. If that is so, then the decline of the American university is probably unstoppable, and new sources of moral instruction and scholastic enlightenment are needed for America to regain its path. The news that Brigham Young University has suspended its star basketball  player on the eve of the NCAA tournament for violating the school’s honor code (how delightfully quaint is that term!) by having pre-marital sex with his girlfriend underscores the magnitude of religion-based education as the only vehicle for inculcating a morality that transcends fads, trends and rationalizations. (The player was contrite in his apology to his teammates, something else unimaginable in a secular setting where the player would have been lauded for his personal choices and sued for reinstatement.)

      A secular university not only won’t foster traditional morality, but simply can’t. It is essentially incapable of speaking that language; hence the constant lowering of the moral bar to appeal to people’s baser and more tawdry instincts, and the popular “rating” of universities for their partying and drinking. As the BYU football coach explained this week, sort of: “I don’t know that those not inclined to understand, will ever understand.” Indeed.

     In August 1995, while riding in a car and listening live to Bob Costas’ eulogy of Mickey Mantle, my wife commented in her innocence: “I don’t understand. Why did people idolize Mantle ? He was, by his own admission, a bad husband, a bad father, a womanizer and an alcoholic. All because he could hit home runs ?” To which I answered, in my innocence: “Well, he could do it from both sides of the plate.”

     “Heroes” are a peculiar phenomenon, especially for the young who idealize the world and perceive only the exterior of that world. Mickey Mantle, the handsome slugger and Yankee champion who overcame bedeviling injuries and who seemed on the surface to live life to the fullest and to enjoy it the most, was a natural hero to the youth of a certain age. In my day, every Yankee fan had a “secondary” favorite player, because it was assumed that Mickey Mantle was the favorite. Essentially, to say that “Mickey Mantle was my favorite player” was to say nothing of substance, and even indicated that you didn’t know much about baseball. “Of course he is…but who else do you like?”

    Jane Leavy’s compelling biography of the Mick (aptly named, “The Last Boy”) exposes both the perils and rewards of hero worship. Ironically, and perhaps as a testament to Mantle’s iconic status in American life, the more damaging the disclosures – the greater the openness and honesty about his numerous flaws – the more heroic he becomes. Clearly, as the title indicates, he would not have been able to conceal his debauchery and excesses in the modern era. Reporters covered him and covered for him, and were just uninterested in exposing the seamier aspects of his life, even reveling in his sordid “accomplishments.” (In one celebrated case, Mantle’s 1961 pursuit of Babe Ruth’s single season home run record – in competition with Roger Maris – fell short when Mantle was unable to play past mid-September because of a “hip injury.” The injury, apparently, was in reaction to an injection given him by a quack doctor to combat the effects of an STD Mantle had contracted.) Today, Mantle would be scorned, tarred, feathered and publicly humiliated. And yet…

    His life story fascinates and he is constantly haunted by tragedy. It is a rags-to-riches story that is part of American legend. He was born in Depression-era Oklahoma to a miner father who would die at 40 (and whose early death Mantle felt he himself would suffer), but who lived his life through his son. Mutt Mantle pushed, challenged and goaded Mickey to baseball greatness, in legendary ways: forcing him to switch-hit, imposing practice and repetition on him, and – in the most famous example – shaming him into continuing to play when Mantle’s first trip to the majors fizzled. Back in the minors, and striking out with abandon, Mantle decided to quit and return home. His father – who unbeknownst to them at the time, would be dead within a year – visited him in Kansas City, and in stark contrast to the soft, tender-loving care and empathy of the modern parent, offered his son this pointed message: “You gutless coward. I thought I raised a man. I guess I was wrong. Come home, I’ll get you a job in the mines, you loser…” or something to that effect. These days, Mutt Mantle would be hauled before Child Services and prosecuted for abuse.

   The term “hero” is used in different contexts. As a “man admired for his achievements and noble qualities,” Mantle falls short. Baseball may mirror life, but it is only a sport, a diversion from what is real and important in life. But if a hero is a person “who shows great courage,” then Mantle represents something mythic that still touches the American soul. As a child, he was sexually abused (to which some attributed his persistent infidelities and numerous dalliances, of Wilt Chamberlain-like proportions; Chamberlain, at least, never married) – but he never spoke about his abuse until late in life. He suffered as a teenager from osteomyelitis, a bone inflammation that disqualified him from military service, yet that did not inhibit his speed or ability to generate power. He tore his knee ligaments in the 1951 World Series (his rookie year), and would never again play without pain – even playing with the bad knee for two more years before having surgery, something inconceivable today. In his last four years, he played while barely able to walk, being wrapped in tape like a mummy before each game, grimacing with each swing. So, why play ?

     The Mickey Mantle story is alluring because the young, healthy Mantle ran like the wind. Contemporaries testified that no one ever ran as fast from home to first. While not a large person by today’s standards (he played at 5’ 11” and 195 pounds), his bat speed and perfect swing generated such power that his home runs were mammoth blows. No one ever hit the ball harder or farther. In 1953, one famous blast was “measured” at 565 feet, almost unimaginable (indeed, it was; 50 years later, Leavy interviewed eyewitnesses and the boy who caught the ball, and retained physicists to calibrate distance and power, and concludes that the ball traveled perhaps 615 feet ! Still, it is acknowledged to be the longest home run ever hit.) Twice, Mantle’s home runs hit the upper façade at the old Yankee Stadium, with the second shot (in 1963) still rising (according to eyewitnesses) as it struck the overhang – which precluded it from traveling perhaps 600 feet on the fly. (The next day while flying at 30,000 feet, a teammate needled the unfortunate pitcher: “Did you see that ?” “What?”  “Mantle’s ball just flew over the plane.”)

    He was always gracious to teammates, self-deprecating in his humor, naturally humble (he admitted he knew “nuthin’” about hitting – he just swung as hard as he could at whatever he saw), generous to a fault (giving away most of his money until he found himself broke in the early 1980s and had to re-invent himself as a huckster and autograph signer), and he never complained about pain, injuries or suffering. And he won – 12 pennants and 7 world championships.

      And yet he could be rude, crude, inappropriate and downright vulgar in the presence of women, and did not warm to the fans and the media until late in his career, and really only after his playing days ended. He loved his wife, but cheated on her incessantly, even separating from her in the last decade of his life and living openly with a mistress. He considered himself an absent and desultory father, with his main contribution to their education introducing them to alcohol before they were teenagers. The entire family – Mickey, wife, all four sons (two of whom are already deceased) – battled alcoholism. Mantle drank to excess, and literally drank himself to death, destroying his liver and then losing a battle to cancer after he obtained a liver transplant – just months after leaving the Betty Ford Clinic sober. He was 64 when he died.

    What to make of such a life ? Where is the heroism that would induce youngsters to want to run like him (head down), don a helmet like him (from back to front), swing like him (with rear leg locked in a power-L that generated more power), and play in and through pain ? “Heroes” reflect both our aspirations for greatness and an opportunity to live vicariously through another, especially when our own lives are mired in routine and produce little that is noteworthy. The search for heroes is then both a human necessity – and a human failing, a weakness that drives us to perceive greatness in fame and not in the enduring accomplishments of happy marriages, moral children, and lives of integrity.

     Mickey Mantle saw through the mirage even while he was playing, but perhaps saved his greatest swings for the end of his life. In his last days, Mantle pummeled himself publicly for squandering his life and his talent, for shortening his career by not taking care of himself, and for setting a poor example for his children and others who looked up to him. In perhaps his most famous statement, he was asked in a TV interview about being a role model. Worn and emaciated from cancer, he answered: “I’d like to say to kids out there, if you’re looking for a role model, this is a role model. Don’t be like me.”

     As the anti-hero, perhaps Mantle finally became the true hero – a symbol of courage, honesty, contrition and candor. In openly coming to grips with his frailties, he showed authenticity and strength, and offered an enduring legacy of how (not) to live.