Category Archives: Machshava/Jewish Thought

Modern Orthodoxy Under the Microscope

Posted on November 18, 2011 | 2 comments

This is only for those with time on their hands, but two very provocative essays, the first by Rav Yitzchak Adlerstein and the second by Rav Michael Broyde, provoked much thought across our small world, and prompted my response below.

http://www.cross-currents.com/archives/2011/09/27/modern-orthodoxy-at-a-crossroads-2/

http://www.cross-currents.com/archives/2011/11/09/modern-orthodoxy-is-always-at-the-crossroads/

Paradoxically, I found myself in agreement with both Rav Adlerstein and Rav Broyde in their recent comments on Modern Orthodoxy and the limits of RCA tolerance. Rav Adlerstein lays down the gauntlet in terms of the importance of parameters for RCA inclusion, so we do not define ourselves into irrelevancy, or worse, become a tacit endorser of quasi-heretical notions. And Rav Broyde’s exposition of Modern Orthodoxy as “Always at a Crossroads” is, in many ways, right on point and underscores true areas of difference, especially in the danger of witch hunts and in mandating acceptance of the views of “gedolim” who do not generally share our hashkafat olam. Additionally, the challenge to the “Far Left” of maverick approaches to halacha and minhag that destroy the envelope after first pushing its ends should also engender some necessary soul-searching and perhaps re-visiting of some views.

Yet, if my admiration for Rav Broyde only grows each time he puts ink to paper (or the modern equivalent), I remain troubled by certain assumptions that are made that I believe undermine his overall argument. This is perhaps encapsulated in his summation that states, in pertinent part, that Modern Orthodoxy “incorporates two central values that we cannot live without: Halacha and the best of Western culture.” I am afraid that overstates the case in a way that leaves Modern Orthodoxy bereft of its Torah moorings. Can we really – should we really – equate Halacha and (even the best of) Western culture ? Without Torah, we are nothing, non-existent. Without Western culture, we are like…more than half the rest of the planet. If the Ramban on Chumash was suddenly no longer extant, or the Mishnah Torah disappeared, r”l, we would be orphaned. Can we say the same thing about the loss of Shakespeare, Rembrandt or the Knicks ? (See how easily the world is adapting to the absence of professional basketball.) Is there one Western value not already reflected in the Torah that, if it disappeared tomorrow, we as Torah Jews would sense a loss and openly grieve? There are cherished Western notions – democracy, for one – that are not incompatible with Torah, for sure, but nevertheless, pose a grave threat to international order and safety. Democracy brought both Hitler and Hamas to power, and may leave us trembling from the aftermath of the Arab Spring. So just what are these values we cannot “live without”? Certainly there are aspects of Western culture that add a positive dimension to our lives, but if they were permanently gone would not even evoke a tear, much less wistfulness or some existential angst. Ki haim chayenu is Torah, nothing else. And science is not a “secular” discipline, insofar as it reflects the revelation of the Creator in nature.

Thus, Rav Broyde’s contention that “The best of the house of Yefet should reside in the house of Shem – the best of western culture should be part of the Jewish community,” is misleading at best. “The beauty of Yefet should be in the tents of Shem” is primarily an admonition that the culture of Yefet should be exalted and ennobled by the influence of the morality of Shem and not descend into the tawdriness and decadence (to which it has), and secondarily (the context of that statement in Megila 9b) that the Greek language – the most beautiful outside of the language of Torah – has a place in the tents of Shem. But the blanket endorsement of the beauty of Yefet in our tents directly contradicts Chazal’s elucidation of this same pasuk in Yoma 10a: “Even though G-d extends Yefet, the divine presence only rests in the tents of Shem.”And therein lies the critical distinction: the culture of Yefet, even in its loftiest state, might find its place in the tents of Shem but can never be equated with it. And our role as the heirs to the tents of Shem is to preserve its purity and moral code and set an example for Yefet.

Therein lies another problem with Rav Broyde’s theses: “It [Modern Orthodoxy] requires that we examine western culture faithfully and diligently to determine that which is best and ought to be incorporated. More subtly, it requires that we recognize that there are things missing from our own tent, so that we ought to acquire them from the outside.” (my bold).

Really ? “Missing from our own tent” flies in the face of the notion of “Torat Hashem Temima” and even more Chazal’s commentary on the pasuk “ki lo davar reik hu mikem – “for it is not an empty thing for you” (Devarim 32:47). The Yerushalmi Peah 1:1 states: v’im reik hu, mikem hu – “if the Torah appears empty (deficient, missing something), it is in you.” If we sense something missing from our tent, then what is missing is in us, and not in our tent, mipnei she’ein atem yegei’in BaTorah, because we do not exert ourselves sufficiently in the Torah. If we exerted ourselves sufficiently, we would find all we need in the Torah.

To think the Torah is not one’s sole address for moral guidance, or an insufficient venue for one’s spiritual aspirations, is dangerous territory indeed. It lends itself not only to wholesale rejection of parts of the Torah that “offend,” but also to wholesale revisions or original compositions of parts that are deemed “missing” and need to be restored or supplemented.

Needless to say, I don’t suspect this is Rav Broyde’s credo; I do sense it animates what is called the “Far Left.” They find fault with the Torah, openly criticize and often demean Chazal, and – this is barely concealed – are often disappointed when the Torah does not conform to current but transient moral norms. But most of us are happy with the Torah, if occasionally disappointed in ourselves, and the drive to incorporate western values in Torah – or make the Torah subservient to or the handmaiden of western values – is a well known dead end for Jews. Not every desideratum of modern life should be part of Torah just because it is modern or desired. And not every value embraced by Jews – egalitarianism comes to mind – is necessarily a Jewish value.

I am also less than sanguine about the propriety of grounding one’s deviations from the norm in rejected psak, even those with a “fine rabbinic pedigree,” when those deviations are far from the current norm. One can easily locate a justification or two for wife-beating and tax-cheating, as unsavory as those practices are, scattered in the words of fine scholars operating from different premises, but antithetical to the majority opinion and prevailing Jewish practice through the ages. We do not do that because minhag yisrael is sacred, because the mesora matters, and because we are a nation and not just a collection of individuals serving G-d in accordance with our subjective interests.

Obviously, our Far Left would not dare eradicate the mechitza – despite embracing ideological criteria that would endorse such a move. My sense is it would not be done not because it would violate the halacha (the Shulchan Aruch, they would posit, is silent on the matter) but rather because it is identified with the Conservative brand. It would be a blatant admission of defection. So the next best thing is done – either it is rendered unnoticeable or dismantled at the first opportunity, or that very same fight is taken to other battlefields. Hence the list of deviations from prevailing Orthodoxy that Rav Broyde cites critically as enacted by the Far Left without any hint of self-criticism on their part, or awareness that they are distancing themselves from the mainstream of faithful Jews. But the main deviation, as I see it, is not in this or that practice or change, but in an approach to the words of Chazal and the Oral Torah that is more reminiscent of the Conservative movement and that prompts each step away from the tent.

In truth, I am agnostic about expulsions because the fears of Rav Broyde of endless line-drawing and persecution are well-grounded. Nevertheless, I do see the value in clarifying what we stand for and giving clear guidance to our fellow Jews, even if that means pulling down the flaps of our tent to keep out deviationists. As Rabbanim – teachers of Torah – we shirk our responsibilities if our solitary goal remains a big tent. That would be useful if the primary objective of the RCA is to serve as a professional rabbinic fraternity that protects our jobs and pensions, come what may. But if we aspire as an organization to Torah leadership, and to impact the spiritual lives of our fellow Jews in traditional ways, then lines must be drawn and clarity achieved.

Where those lines are drawn should make for an interesting discussion. But at a certain point, it is clear that diverse opinions are impossible to reconcile and a unity on paper only will easily crumple. Therefore, “scholars, be careful with your words, lest you incur the penalty of exile, and are banished to the place of evil waters (heresy) and the disciples who come after you will drink and die, and G-d’s name will be desecrated” (Avot 1:11). That is good musar for all of us.

2 Comments

Posted in Contemporary Life, Current Events, Machshava/Jewish Thought

The Origins of Discontent

Posted on November 11, 2011 | 4 comments

(This was originally published as an Op-Ed in the Jewish Press, November 11, 2011.)

It is difficult to remember the last time that the United States was wracked with such dissension, discontent, protests, and economic hardship. From my vantage point, “Occupy Wall Street” has been primarily a source of comic relief – the participants, their complaints, their solutions, and their antics – except for the sporadic violence, and the loss of job and business in lower Manhattan caused by the unwillingness of sane people to traverse that area under siege. There are many different forces at play in these nationwide protests,
most without any clue as to how to improve their personal financial situations
or the national economy. Having occupied Wall Street, the occupiers do not seem to know what they want to do with it.

But there is discontent among the wealthy as well, who are being demonized for the most crass political purposes and who have lost much of their wealth in the last few years (from 2007 to 2009, there was a 40% drop in the number of millionaires filing federal tax returns, from 392,000 to 233,000), and among the middle class, who have seen their assets diminished, and found near-insurmountable obstacles to their pursuit of the American dream. Everyone is unhappy.
And the more government meddles in our lives, the worse and less free
our lives become. All this discontent is the fruit of the poisonous tree of
big, intrusive government trying to run every aspect of our lives – and failing
at all of it: telling us what we can eat, what we can drive, what types of
bulbs we can use, how much water the shower nozzle can dispense, how high our fences can be, how many miles per gallon our cars should provide, what types of medical procedures we should or should not have, etc. There are many who expect and want government to satisfy their every desire and care for their every need – to be given a job, a home, health care, retirement pay, and a host of other entitlements. I want none of that. I just want to be left alone.

America was founded on the premise of the right of the individual to
pursue happiness as he sees fit – as long as his pursuit does not encroach on
the rights of others. So a federal government should provide for the common
defense against external enemies, enforce contracts so the commercial system
remains viable, and build interstate roads and highways. Beyond that, I
struggle to find where a federal government is useful or effective, and I
resent that the fruit of my labor is confiscated to pay for useless, frivolous,
unneeded and unwarranted boondoggles. I just want to be left alone.

Consider how far we have traveled. In 1887, Texas was stricken by a
drought (just like this past year). Congress appropriated $10,000 to purchase
seed grain for the suffering farmers there. President Grover Cleveland (the
only president born in New Jersey) vetoed the bill, saying: “I can find no warrant for such an appropriation in the Constitution, and I do not believe that the power and duty of the general government ought to be extended to the relief of individual suffering which is in no manner properly related to the public service or benefit. … The friendliness and charity of our countrymen can always be relied upon to relieve their fellow-citizens in misfortune. Federal aid in such cases encourages the expectation of paternal care on the part of the government and weakens the sturdiness of our national character, while it prevents the indulgence among our people of that kindly sentiment and conduct which strengthens the bonds of a common brotherhood.”

“The lessons of paternalism ought to be unlearned and the better lesson
taught that while the people should patriotically and cheerfully support their
Government its functions do not include the support of the people.”

Notwithstanding that those sentiments (and undoubtedly other reasons as
well) led to Cleveland’s defeat in 1888 – he was re-elected four years later –
those lessons of the dangers of “paternalism” need to be re-learned and
re-internalized. Part of America’s greatness in the 20^th century was
built on the labor of millions of immigrants – including more than two million
Jews – who arrived on these shores and looked not to government for a handout but to their relatives, neighbors, and co-religionists for temporary assistance until they could support themselves by the sweat of their brow. Hard work, self-sacrifice, material deprivation and personal responsibility were the norms of life. It was expected that people would succeed or fail on their own, and therefore everyone had an interest in succeeding. There was no governmental safety net, and the safety net that did exist for the elderly and infirm was usually provided by family and religious institutions.

The Constitution does not allow government to confiscate money from the productive and distribute it to the unproductive or the clueless – whether the clueless are reckless individuals or reckless corporations. But today, that is the primary function of government, and so 49% of Americans receive some form of government assistance and wayward, mismanaged corporations are bailed out to the tune of hundreds of billions of dollars rather than allow the market to take its natural toll on unprofitable businesses. Blame Woodrow Wilson and Franklin Roosevelt, and then almost every president since then, who have all realized that there are electoral victories to be obtained by handing out money to as many groups and individuals as is feasible. And, frankly, blame the citizenry as well, people who are being weaned on getting something for nothing, and letting others work and prosper and then thinking that it is fair and just that their work product be redistributed to them. It was Thomas Jefferson who wrote that democracy fails the moment the majority realizes that it can vote itself money out of the treasury. We have arrived at that moment, and the national character, accustomed to handouts and bailouts, has been concomitantly weakened to its current flaccid state of disgruntlement and self-pity.

The two visions of America – the free enterprise state that allows the individual free choice in pursuit of his happiness vs. the nanny state that is paternalistic, intrusive and demanding – can easily be discerned by the one defining difference: the former sees each person as an individual (created in the divine image) and the latter sees man as simply part of a collective whose rights are drawn from the fact that he is part of a group but do not inhere in him. America and the free world used to celebrate the role of the individual – encouraging it, fostering it – because no individual prospers without also benefiting others. No individual can become wealthy unless he makes a product or provides a service that others want at a price they can afford. So, everyone benefits. Now, it is one size fits all – like the housing in socialist societies that all looks the same, and like the clothing in old Communist China where everyone dressed the same. No individuality is tolerated. Rights are awarded to some individuals, and denied to others, because they belong to a particular group – the very premise of affirmative action, for example.

Similarly, these attitudes engender the populist complaints about income inequality – the rich are too rich, and the poor are too poor. Why does the income gap, which so exercises the Occupy World Street crowd and other anarchists, bother anyone? If everyone has – or can have – then why be troubled by the success of some? Indeed, a study not long ago showed that people are happier if they are earning $25,000 and their neighbor $50,000 – than if the sums are doubled and they earn $50,000 and their neighbors earn $100,000. Why? Although the income gap has widened, they too are earning more money? For only one reason, that greases the wheels of much of the discontent in America and across the globe today: jealousy. What a deadly mida! Envy ruins lives, leaves people dejected and despondent, and is the cause of wars and much suffering.

Envy is the very antithesis of Succot. Rav Dessler writes famously that Succot reflects bitul hayesh, the nullification of the material. Has anyone ever walked into someone’s Succa and said: “This is beautiful – I am so jealous, I wish I had a Succa like this!” Of course not. And why not? Because it is gone in a week, and is therefore defined as a temporary dwelling. But that is the point –
everything in this world is temporary, so why be jealous? Why covet what
someone else has?

The Gemara Avoda Zara 3a-b states that in the future the nations of the world will be tested with the mitzvah of Succot. The nations are easily inflamed, and much of what they accomplish is triggered by jealousy. So G-d burns the sun
on them as if it is the height of summer – the sun, which to us appears to be
the most permanent fixture of the physical world. And they kick their Succot on
the way out, as if to say, the only reality is the material world, of
substance, and mergers and acquisitions – so why waste time and energy on
anything that is temporary and cannot stoke our competitive juices like the
Succa?

If that regression will happen in the future, as the Gemara says, the good news is that that future is already here. And it is fostered by a heavy-handed government that speaks of charity and generosity as disguises for outright theft. Trillions of dollars spent in a war on poverty has created more poverty – not less. The poverty rate has increased since the war on poverty began, as well as fostered a cycle of multi-generational welfare dependency and a surfeit of broken homes.
For Jews, we perceive the material as temporary and tangential to life, and
look to G-d as the only true source of our rights and values. To us, life is blissful when, as in the time of King Shlomo, “Yehuda and Yisrael dwelled in security, each person beneath his vine and his fig tree”(I Melachim 5:5) – each person content, satisfied and comfortable with himself and his neighbors, free of the burdens of jealousy and greed.

It is hard for a thinking Jew to generate much sympathy for the “demonize the rich” populism, for a number of reasons, but especially because the Torah seems to like the rich (the Torah likes the poor too). It is one of the defining, oft-repeated themes of Avraham’s life – and maybe a great nisayon as well. The Torah sees fit to emphasize that Avraham does not only leave Charan with his wife and nephew, but also “with all the wealth they had amassed.” And he does well in Egypt – “laden, very heavy, with cattle, silver and gold,” Strange words – kaved me’od, not that he was wealthy, ashir, but kaved, heavy. Wealth can be a burden as well.

And Avraham rejects the gifts of the king of Sodom, so “you shouldn’t say, ‘I made Avraham rich.’” And the Torah underscores that both Yitzchak and Yaakov (and Moshe) were wealthy, all of which gave them credibility with their contemporaries. In the most far-reaching comment, Avraham is told that his descendants would be enslaved in a land not theirs for 400 years, “after which they will leave with great wealth.” But why is this important ? And why does the Torah speak of wealth of our ancestors again and again?

Avraham’s wealth was purposeful. It was designed to bring him respect from his peers, and enable him to better promote his divine message. He was completely focused on advancing Hashem’s agenda, and on realizing spiritual goals. Why should that be demonized? We need not – and should not – succumb to materialistic excess. It is unnecessary, beneath our dignity, and the result of environmental influences that we should strive to keep out of our lives. We know how to live – but we also know how to use our money to build Torah and shuls and yeshivot and mikvaot. We know how to help the indigent, and we know how to support Israel.

Wealth is a challenge but it need not be a curse, or somehow ignominious as today’s malcontents would want us to believe. Wealth is a “blessing from Hashem” (Mishlei 10:22), so it is to be used judiciously, wisely and productively. We don’t always succeed, but we do succeed much more than people tend to think. Wealth is therefore a great test, and our use of our bounty is usually a very keen indicator of our moral aspirations and the state of our character. Prioritizing Torah education and the performance of Mitzvot is obviously a more effective and rewarding use of our bounty than is the relentless pursuit of more stuff – houses, cars, fancy gadgets and clothing, and extravagant affairs.

That is why none of the complaints and antics of these American protesters resonate with me. They choose not to see the hard work, the sacrifices, the risks and even the re-distribution wrought by the wealthy consumer (a person who buys a private jet supports a number of people who built that private jet). All they see is mass consumption, all they see is materialistic excess – and they just want it for themselves, without having to work for it. They should learn the lesson of Succot, and we should strive to embody the values and vision of the Avot.

If we choose poorly, then wealth can corrupt us as well, and we can go down the path of Lot, Avraham’s neer-do-well nephew, who was literally destroyed by his worldly ambitions. But if we choose more wisely, then the legacy of the Avot is ours, and our example to the rest of society as to the divine values of personal
responsibility, individual morality, the appropriate utilization of resources
and generosity can be profound. It was for that reason that G-d chose Avraham,
and blessed his offspring with that eternal mandate to the nations of the
world.

4 Comments

Posted in Chumash, Contemporary Life, Current Events, Machshava/Jewish Thought

Listening

Posted on September 28, 2011 | Comments Off

The Baal Shem Tov offered a parable. There was a king who, through some very adept magic, built a palace that appeared to have many walls that protected him from his people. The walls were very high, straight and curved, one higher than the other in a maze leading up to a mountain. And from the outside, through this sleight-of-hand, it also appeared that the palace had many rivers and moats, and armed guards, and bears and lions and other wild animals. And so no one dared approach the king, and the king was feared throughout his kingdom, and his glory filled the provinces.

One day, the king issued a proclamation that whoever enters the palace to greet the king will be granted honors and riches, and serve the king as a trusted minister. Some people came, saw what appeared to be the multiple walls, were intimidated and retreated. Others penetrated the first and second layers, and despite seeing no great obstacles – no rivers, no walls, no ferocious animals, and the king’s retinue dispensing great riches to all visitors, they still shied away from approaching further.

Only one person persisted – the king’s son, who yearned to see his father. And so he forced his way into the palace, past the magical walls and the bears and the lions and the guards – he fought and struggled until he arrived at his father’s inner sanctum. When the king saw his son’s dedication, he removed his
sleight-of-hand, and the son saw that there were really no walls, nor any
partitions or separations – just gardens and orchards and all the delights one
could imagine – and the king sitting on his throne, surrounded by his retinue.

And the son cried out to his father – why did you hide from me ? Why did you conceal yourself – “you concealed Yourself and I trembled” (Tehillim 30:8)? And the king answered that it was all done for you, to test you, to reveal
what is in your heart, the extent of your love and reverence for me.

There are times when we sense a distance between us and G-d – when G-d appears remote and inaccessible, when we feel forlorn and abandoned to a chaotic and unruly world. “You concealed Yourself and I trembled” – we tremble at the distance, at the concealment. It is when we call out to G-d – “to You, G-d, I call out, to G-d, I supplicate” (ibid 30:9) – that we realize that the barriers
are illusory and the obstacles are all of our own making. G-d is wherever we
let Him in.

Why does man build walls – why does man resist surrender to G-d’s will ? Primarily fear. Fear that our lives will be less enjoyable, fear that we will have fewer friends, fear that we will lose our jobs and our money, fear that the nations of the world will oppress and persecute us. We run from the covenant, or we attempt to re-define it on our terms.

We conclude – “I can’t learn Torah (no background, no time, no fun); I can’t observe Shabbat as a complete day of sublime holiness for 25 hours (I have to commingle it with the activities and deportment of the weekdays); I can’t give charity, I can’t make aliya, I can’t avoid speaking lashon hara, I can’t dress appropriately, I can’t behave in shul, I can’t treat others with respect and courtesy, or I can’t feel G-d’s presence in my life…” Each “can’t” is a wall, a moat, a roaring lion, a mighty soldier that blockades the door to the palace. King David said “my soul thirsts for G-d” (ibid 42:3). We might say – “I don’t want to thirst for G-d; I want to retain my autonomy, my independence – I don’t want to surrender, I want to engage G-d on my terms. I don’t want to feel a spontaneous gratitude to G-d – too limiting, too demanding.”

But, if we choose, we can dismantle these barriers on our own – one by one. Or, sometimes, the barriers fall away by themselves, because we are left with no choice. We fear the consequences of sin, we’re adrift, we sense something is amiss, and we finally want to enter the palace. Our fears are replaced by a yearning – “as a father has compassion on his children, so too G-d has compassion on us.” And we finally admit that “there is nothing but Him” (Devarim 4:35).

The Rogatchover Gaon said the blessing for the commandment of shofar is “to hear the sound of the shofar,” rather than to “blow the shofar” because we don’t all hear the same thing. And it is not the technical “hearing” of the shofar
that fulfills the mitzvah, but rather the mitzvah is to listen to the sound of
the shofar that breaks through the walls of our creation, the figments of our
imagination, the sources of our rebellion. If one hears the shofar and is not
moved, and the walls don’t crumble, and the heart is not bent, then there is no
mitzvah. It is the sound we hear, each and every one of us, that defines the
mitzvah, and our surrender to G-d on the day of judgment.

Rav Saadia Gaon wrote that we listen to the shofar and surrender to G-d, because that is the nature of the shofar, the instrument of coronation.

May the sounds of the shofar this year cause G-d to ascend, and enable us to break down all the barriers, and confer the blessings of life and health, prosperity and tranquility, on us and all Israel.

Shana tova to all !

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Posted in Contemporary Life, Holidays, Machshava/Jewish Thought

Piety and Dysfunction

Posted on July 15, 2011 | 8 comments

What was most striking about the reaction to last week’s piece on dating, published in the Jewish Press, was not just the chord that it struck with so many people about the miseries of the contemporary dating scene or the incapacities of many men to embrace adulthood but especially the criticism that was rooted in the prevalence of promiscuity in modern life and the methods of preventing its encroachment in our world. As many readers stressed, even casual and public interactions are unavoidable inducements to randy and sinful behavior. Strange as it sounds, the objections challenge – or at least, invert – a statement of Chazal.

The Gemara (Bava Batra 165a) says, in the name of Rav, that certain sins are hardy perennials that are difficult to suppress: “Most [people are guilty] of theft, a minority of promiscuity, and everyone of slanderous speech,” which the Gemara soon qualifies to mean the “dust of lashon hara” – indirect, disparaging
speech but not overt gossip. (It is safe to say that these days few roll only in the dust of lashon hara.) But what of the Gemara’s assertion that “mi’ut ba’arayot” – only a minority are guilty of sexual misconduct? The overheated rhetoric that came my way seemed to imply – strike that, it was stated explicitly and quite stridently – that if young men and women simply talk to each other, even in public and even in controlled settings, that sin is inevitable for all but the most unresponsive and lifeless among them. How can that be, if the Gemara perceives only a minority as succumbing to these sins?

Conversely, since the more prevalent danger is theft, why do we not embrace the same restrictions in this area that are suggested in the dating context? Rashbam notes that people are prone, especially in business, to allow themselves leniencies that increase their own profits at the expense of others (known in today’s parlance as shtick). Recall that Rav Yisrael Salanter said famously that just as there is a prohibition to seclude oneself with another’s wife (yichud),
so too there should be a prohibition to seclude oneself with someone else’s money. Reb Yisrael was undoubtedly correct, as always, that the temptation of illicit money exceeds that of lewdness, and yet we have not incorporated the same restrictions: we don’t require two people to work a cash register in a Jewish store, we are not admonished not to enter stores alone lest we shoplift or
remain alone in someone’s living room in the presence of his I-Pod or other desirable devices, nor do we require that young people with uncontrollable lusts for money and no legitimate means of earning it just avoid any contact with it.
Perhaps we should – but we don’t, because erecting limitless fences around sin
does not build character or develop reverence for Heaven. What is does is leave
a person incapable of exercising any self-control the moment one of those
fences collapses.

Indeed, Chazal did establish one fence regarding relations between unmarried people – the prohibition of seclusion that was decreed by the Sanhedrin of King David in the wake of the Amnon-Tamar episode. Consequently, it is surely forbidden for unmarried people to seclude themselves. But how then is another fence built around the initial fence – a decree added to a decree – that would prohibit even public interactions? Is the world so much different today than it was 50, 100, 500, 1000 or 3000 years ago?

Yes and no. The world is different in terms of the dissemination of bawdy material and the tawdry imagery that inundates our senses. Modern means of communication has eased transmission of both the holy and the profane. Our eyes and our souls are always at risk whenever we venture out into the world, and even when sometimes we sit at home or in front of a computer. But human nature is the same, and we delude ourselves into thinking that, somehow, today’s young people are more concupiscent than people in ancient, medieval or pre-modern times. That is simply false. People are people and human nature is human nature. (Even the display of raunchy material is nothing new. Visit any art museum – I was at the Louvre in Paris last week – and one realizes that medieval art was almost exclusively either Christian-themed or naked women – and sometimes both, simultaneously. Of course, they called it art, like others term even more salacious material today. Either way, there is not much for a Jew to see. I developed a new appreciation to the genius of Monet, and even Morris Katz.) In the past, the public frowned on debauchery, but that does not mean that its incidence was any less frequent than today.

Obviously, the Bible has many stories of misconduct between the sexes, and the Torah prohibitions reflect that one’s desires gravitate toward those areas. The Maharal himself was banished from Prague (after his first stint there) because the people resented his carping about one of their prevalent vices – adultery – and this in a community that numbered just several thousand Jews. There is nothing new under the sun. So, knowing what we know, how can Chazal say that just a “minority” are guilty of promiscuity? Would they say the same today? Would Rav amend his statement to read that, today, sadly, “all are guilty
of theft, lechery, and gossip” – in which case, what hope is there for any of
us?

I conclude that Chazal were correct, and that only a minority of people are guilty of licentiousness. All people are subject to fantasies, even persistent ones, but most do not act upon them. Hirhur (fantasy) is part of the human condition; fleeting thoughts are impossible to inhibit and our obligation as strivers for perfection then becomes uprooting them, not dwelling on them, and becoming involved in some more gainful and productive pursuit. To think that we can eliminate unconscious thoughts reflects an ignorance of human nature, and
Chazal profoundly understood human nature. And to think that we can eliminate sin by supplementing the Torah’s and Chazal’s prohibitions with even more prohibitions is misguided. It simply drives sin underground – to which a
generation of Jews who hide televisions in their closets, or received deliveries of televisions in air-conditioner boxes, or who furtively sit over their computers surfing the internet without a life-preserver can undoubtedly attest. At the end of the day, there is no alternative to self-control, which is a function of reverence of Heaven.

Human nature is human nature, and no community is immune from sin or devoid of sinners. The Jewish world – right, left, center, Modern, Haredi, yeshivish – has its share of miscreants, pedophiles, thieves, psychos, murderers, adulterers, degenerates, deviants, and those who would expose or cover up those sins and sinners, crimes and criminals. The comfort might be that our numbers are smaller relative to the general population in all these vices, and that lasciviousness is still perceived as aberrational conduct that is not or should not be tolerated in our midst and appropriately shocks us when it does occur. But to think further that there is one foolproof way that works for all – one way to avoid sin or temptation, one way to find a spouse, and one way to have a happy, fulfilling marriage – is delusional.

There is something else that needs to be said, an outgrowth of some of the responses I received. Fear of sin is a virtue in Jewish life, in a way that it is simply not understood in the rest of the world. We should always be mindful that we can stumble at any time, and therefore always have a conscious awareness of G-d’s presence. But there is a fine line between piety and dysfunction that tends to get blurred. Reading recent accounts of families that segregate the sexes for meals – or families in which brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law do not converse for fear of the “next step” – crosses the line from excessive piety to palpable dysfunction. If we posit that Chazal are correct – and who among us would not? – that only a mi’ut ba’arayot – then we have to accept that self-control and self-discipline are sufficient to allow normal interactions and to restrain, even among the most lustful among us, improper conduct. If not – if one cannot walk the streets or converse or casually interact without harboring persistently impure or libidinous thoughts that coalesce with an uncontrollable urge to lunge at random females, that is dysfunctional, and such a person requires all the safeguards that we can conjure, and even some that we have not yet imagined. But normal people do not require that.

The bottom line is that one who does not learn self-control before marriage will not learn it after marriage either, and invariably fall into that minority category that Chazal addressed. And one who cannot restrain his passions in any area of life – money or gossip included – will never learn to restrain it until he/she begins a process of teshuva, self-awareness, and discipline. That process is the true perfection of the soul that is a primary purpose of life itself, and
that process must always be informed by the recognition that the ways of Torah
are the “ways of pleasantness,” as well as normalcy.

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