Random Acts of Scholarship: October 2003 Archives

Prelude

When I first mentioned that I would be a panelist discussing Egalitarian Liturgy, the immediate reaction I got was cynical to say the least. "Why would I want to get into that," and "you're being railroaded" were just two of the comments reflecting the broad sentiment. Initially, I too was skeptical for probably the same reasons.

First, the word "Egalitarian" recalls the classic conservative vs. orthodox debates, and is oftne employed by those with specific agendas. ¹ However, knowing the nature of the Hillel, and after speaking to the Rabbi, it seemed obvious to me that the panel would be cordial and informative.

Some questions still remain: why take the chance or why bother with this at all? It's a good quesiton; one which requires its own post.

Later.

The Ideological Conflict

I do not want to discuss the details of the other panelists' positions, mainly because I do not want to misrepresent them. However, I can present my own take on egalitarian liturgy and how I presented it in the discussion.

I did not like the title of the panel. The term "ethical" presupposes the discussion is a moral one - that there is some inherent value towards egalitarianism to which all people are subsumed. While there is a value to egalitarianism, I do not see it as an "ethical" imperative, but rather as a "religious" imperative. For the sake of this essay, I will define "religious imperatives" as requirements necessarily for the sufficient observance of one�s faith.

As one of the other panelists correctly noted, the word "liturgy" is not limited to prayer, but it includes all manners of public worship. When discussing inequalities in Jewish liturgy, the most blatant example is the role of the woman. ² Women are relegated to sitting behind a mehitza restricting them from active participation. Furthermore, several prayers themselves are not amiable to many women. How can one properly worship when s/he³ is excluded from the primary religious mechanisms? This is a religious imperative.

However, there is a conflicting religious imperative: to maintain "The Tradition." The current actions of the community - following the practices of the previous generations - are as canonical as the Torah itself. It is arrogant at best � heretical at worst � to alter the practices of the previous generations.

Advocates of Egalitarianism could rightly point to the fact that liturgy has changed over time. Piyutim were added throughout the middle ages, many in response to actual events.⁴ For the proponents of tradition, the changes that happened in the past are valid, but we today have no right - or minimal right to make any further emendations. Furthermore, the nature of some of the changes currently suggested affect essential parts of the prayer service.

Specifics

To further understand this debate, we will have to examine some of the specific examples of the offending elements of Jewish liturgy.

I discussed the specific issue of prayer � the colloquial use of the term "liturgy." I noticed two categories of non-egalitarian prayer. The fist involves language of explicit or implicit exclusion. For example, "bessed are you...that you did not make me a woman" is obviously exclusive of women. Other prayers exclude wicked people; in the amida prayer "velamalshinim" excludes heretics. An implicit exclusion would be the yekum purkan prayer which blesses �the congregation and their women and children� � implying that the women are not part of the community.

The other examples of non-egalitarian prayer do not excluded the petitioner, but somehow make the prayers inaccessible to the petitioner. "God" is most often referred to in the masculine. Or the use of the avot, the fathers and not the imahot, the mothers.

For the proponents of egalitarian liturgy, these types of passages exclude either the prayers from the individuals, or the individuals from the prayers.

Solutions?

Can there be a harmonious solution between the two conflicting religious imperatives? Regarding the issue of God language, I suggest that the imperative could be not to modify the language at all. According to all parties involved, God is supposed to be a non-gender. The Hebrew language lacks a gender-neutral conjugation; the masculine gender is used by default. By making a point of including feminine God language, one removes the neutral aspects of the masculine and instead emphasizes the gender. I will also theorize that this might have more of an impact on those communities who pray in English. The constant use of "Him" or "His" will have a greater impact on those who pray in Hebrew and will not be as sensitive to the masculine usage.

For the other changes, one would have to consider the nature of the prayer being modified. Of the passages mentioned, emmending the yekum purkan would be the most plausible since it would have the least effect on the tradition. Few people would notice the change - assuming they know the aramaic and say all the words - and even if a community would still reject this change for themselves, they would not reject other communities who would adopt this change.⁵

Regarding the Amida, I cannot anticipate any substantive changes in the current siddurim. However, halakhically, it might be possible - if not preferable - to personalize the silent amida.⁶ The petitioner will then have the religious meaning while remaining in the halakhic tradition, and assuming the petitioner uses some discretion, s/he will not offend the social tradition.

Conclusion

Throughout the Jewish history, Rishonim and Achronim have reinterpreted Jewish laws to reflect the religious needs of the community.⁷ However, due to the fragmented nature of the Jewish community, there are rarely new religious needs which are applicable to all. It is not surprising that different communities will have different needs. Therefore, I cannot claim that there is a universal religious imperative for egalitarian prayer. I can say that it exists for certain individuals throughout all communities, and for separate communities themselves. However, so is the religious imperative of "Tradition" equally applicable across the spectrum of Judaism. When faced with this conflict, it is up to the communities to reconcile them for themselves. Each has free will to decide which imperative will take precedence. However, in the areas of conflict, both sides must realize there will be consequences � most often the ostracization of one community by another. This too is a religious imperative - and perhaps the real ethical imperative.

Prelude

When I first mentioned that I would be a panelist discussing Egalitarian Liturgy, the immediate reaction I got was cynical to say the least. "Why would I want to get into that," and "you're being railroaded" were just two of the comments reflecting the broad sentiment. Initially, I too was skeptical for probably the same reasons.

First, the word "Egalitarian" recalls the classic conservative vs. orthodox debates, and is oftne employed by those with specific agendas. ¹ However, knowing the nature of the Hillel, and after speaking to the Rabbi, it seemed obvious to me that the panel would be cordial and informative.

Some questions still remain: why take the chance or why bother with this at all? It's a good quesiton; one which requires its own post.

Later.

The Ideological Conflict

I do not want to discuss the details of the other panelists' positions, mainly because I do not want to misrepresent them. However, I can present my own take on egalitarian liturgy and how I presented it in the discussion.

I did not like the title of the panel. The term "ethical" presupposes the discussion is a moral one - that there is some inherent value towards egalitarianism to which all people are subsumed. While there is a value to egalitarianism, I do not see it as an "ethical" imperative, but rather as a "religious" imperative. For the sake of this essay, I will define "religious imperatives" as requirements necessarily for the sufficient observance of one�s faith.

As one of the other panelists correctly noted, the word "liturgy" is not limited to prayer, but it includes all manners of public worship. When discussing inequalities in Jewish liturgy, the most blatant example is the role of the woman. ² Women are relegated to sitting behind a mehitza restricting them from active participation. Furthermore, several prayers themselves are not amiable to many women. How can one properly worship when s/he³ is excluded from the primary religious mechanisms? This is a religious imperative.

However, there is a conflicting religious imperative: to maintain "The Tradition." The current actions of the community - following the practices of the previous generations - are as canonical as the Torah itself. It is arrogant at best � heretical at worst � to alter the practices of the previous generations.

Advocates of Egalitarianism could rightly point to the fact that liturgy has changed over time. Piyutim were added throughout the middle ages, many in response to actual events.⁴ For the proponents of tradition, the changes that happened in the past are valid, but we today have no right - or minimal right to make any further emendations. Furthermore, the nature of some of the changes currently suggested affect essential parts of the prayer service.

Specifics

To further understand this debate, we will have to examine some of the specific examples of the offending elements of Jewish liturgy.

I discussed the specific issue of prayer � the colloquial use of the term "liturgy." I noticed two categories of non-egalitarian prayer. The fist involves language of explicit or implicit exclusion. For example, "bessed are you...that you did not make me a woman" is obviously exclusive of women. Other prayers exclude wicked people; in the amida prayer "velamalshinim" excludes heretics. An implicit exclusion would be the yekum purkan prayer which blesses �the congregation and their women and children� � implying that the women are not part of the community.

The other examples of non-egalitarian prayer do not excluded the petitioner, but somehow make the prayers inaccessible to the petitioner. "God" is most often referred to in the masculine. Or the use of the avot, the fathers and not the imahot, the mothers.

For the proponents of egalitarian liturgy, these types of passages exclude either the prayers from the individuals, or the individuals from the prayers.

Solutions?

Can there be a harmonious solution between the two conflicting religious imperatives? Regarding the issue of God language, I suggest that the imperative could be not to modify the language at all. According to all parties involved, God is supposed to be a non-gender. The Hebrew language lacks a gender-neutral conjugation; the masculine gender is used by default. By making a point of including feminine God language, one removes the neutral aspects of the masculine and instead emphasizes the gender. I will also theorize that this might have more of an impact on those communities who pray in English. The constant use of "Him" or "His" will have a greater impact on those who pray in Hebrew and will not be as sensitive to the masculine usage.

For the other changes, one would have to consider the nature of the prayer being modified. Of the passages mentioned, emmending the yekum purkan would be the most plausible since it would have the least effect on the tradition. Few people would notice the change - assuming they know the aramaic and say all the words - and even if a community would still reject this change for themselves, they would not reject other communities who would adopt this change.⁵

Regarding the Amida, I cannot anticipate any substantive changes in the current siddurim. However, halakhically, it might be possible - if not preferable - to personalize the silent amida.⁶ The petitioner will then have the religious meaning while remaining in the halakhic tradition, and assuming the petitioner uses some discretion, s/he will not offend the social tradition.

Conclusion

Throughout the Jewish history, Rishonim and Achronim have reinterpreted Jewish laws to reflect the religious needs of the community.⁷ However, due to the fragmented nature of the Jewish community, there are rarely new religious needs which are applicable to all. It is not surprising that different communities will have different needs. Therefore, I cannot claim that there is a universal religious imperative for egalitarian prayer. I can say that it exists for certain individuals throughout all communities, and for separate communities themselves. However, so is the religious imperative of "Tradition" equally applicable across the spectrum of Judaism. When faced with this conflict, it is up to the communities to reconcile them for themselves. Each has free will to decide which imperative will take precedence. However, in the areas of conflict, both sides must realize there will be consequences � most often the ostracization of one community by another. This too is a religious imperative - and perhaps the real ethical imperative.

In one of the more enlightening distractions of the day, I had a long conversation with the Elder Avraham on the nature and merits of forgiveness. The specific issue at hand was a recent Dr. Laura column in which she tells her readers "Don't be so quick to forgive" because "knee-jerk forgiveness...will likely make you feel less important and make your pain feel inconsequential. " In one example, she describes a caller who's sister had an affair with her husband. Although the sister never expressed remorse, the father wanted the caller to forgive her sister for the sake of "peace" in the family.

On the other hand, it's clearly not healthy if not prohibited (Lev. 19:18) to bear the grudge. Avraham was reading some texts for Kavvanah which apparently encouraged the offended party to forgive more easily.

How can we then reconcile two conflicting values? What is the middle ground between not becoming obsessed with revenge or self-pity, and not becoming a doormat?

There are several factors to consider. First, what is the nature of the offense? Eating someone's donut should be easier to forgive than adultery. Not all offenses are equal in their severity and therefore not all forgiveness are equal in their absolution. Second, what is the nature of the apology? Is the offender sorry that s/he committed the wrong or that s/he got caught? Furthermore, there is a difference between saying "sorry" and being sorry. An empty apology serves the offender more than the victim as it gives the offender a sense of absolution and it obviates the guilt. A sincere apology would not only include remorse, but some matter of restitution if possible.

During the IM conversation, Avraham and I reached a similar conclusion from different perspectives. On one hand, a person should not be consumed by hatred, and on the other, shouldn't be so quick to absolve the offender. Emotional wounds, like physical ones, take time to heal. The more severe the wound, the longer the recuperation. Just as discharging onesself from the hospital too early can have lasting physical effects, so can forgiving a person before s/he is ready. Therefore following this analogy, a person must come to terms with the action before any forgiveness may be given.

Sometimes we are too quick to forgive, or even worse, we're expected to forgive. People feel obligated to forgive before they're ready and consequently feel guilty in addition to whatever pain they have suffered. This forgiveness serves the offender more than the victim and is as empty as many apologies. This doesn't mean a person should be consumed by the pain. Quite the contrary - s/he must undergo the process of healing. This process will vary from person to person and from offense to offense, but in all cases, it must be performed. Only when a person has "healed thyself" can forgiveness truly be given - and received.

We're in the "Marxism" section of the required "Perspectives in Social Science Analysis" class. If you've never read Marx inside, let me warn you it's some of the most boring dense reading out there. Anyway, in one of his rants on alienation, Marx claims "all objects become for him objectifications of himself." (not in the linked page, but you get the idea) Basically, when man produces an object, he invests part of himself - his essense - into creating this object. Thus, part of his essense is now "alienated" from himself, which for Marx is one of the worst things imaginable.

As I recall, the Keddushat Levi has a similar approach in explaining mishloah manot but with a positive spin. (Surprise - I do learn hassidut on occasion). Like Marx, he views the mishloach manot as the fruits of one's labor, and consequently giving someone mishloach manot implies giving someone else a part of yourself. However, whereas Marx emphasizes the alienation factor of man losing himself, Keddushat Levi stresses the community building process of receiving the other.

This got me thinking that for all Marx talks about alienation and what the worker loses, I haven't seen him discuss where the worker gets anything back. If a worker produces something in which he invests himself, and someone else acquires said object then following the Marxian analogy that person has also acquired the essense of someone else. Thus it's not simply man losing his essence, but he is necesarilly gaining others in his role as a consumer.

I guess now would be the time to write a warm fuzzy derasha on the individual and his larger role in the community for Marxian and Hassidic thought. I have too much reading to do tonight, so I leave this as an excersize for the reader.

Rabbi Dr. Jacob Neusner writes an opinion piece lamenting the lack of scholarship in the Rabbinate across all denominations. Protocols covered the editorial and it was met with some criticism from the Elder Avraham. I quickly posted a comment, but I feel this topic deserves some extra attention.

First, consider the different perspectives of Prof. Neusner, and Avraham. Prof. Neusner is an academic and so he thinks like an academic, valuing the formative intellectual development a PhD provides. (Although he has ordination from JTS, he is more known for his numerous writings than his pastoral skills). Second, Professor Neusner comes from a different generation where almost all Rabbis had PhD's or equivilant degrees. Nowadays, they are a rarity. (As I mentioned in my comment, R. Aharon Rakeffet-Rothkoff made a similar observation in one of his classes in Gruss). Today's Rabbis - or at least from what I've seen of those leaving YU - are as a whole less knowledgeable, less worldly, and less thoughtful than the rabbis of the previous generation.

Avraham's response (aside from the dig at Neusner's own acceptance in the academic field - a debatable point in its own right) is that it doesn't really matter for the average pulpit rabbi. Most congregations would not want to sit through an hour long dissertation comparing Sir Isaac Newton and Maimonides. Many congregants are either unable or unwilling to concentrate on complex ideas before mussaf, especially if their tired and/or hungry. Assuming people are paying attention, you also have to be careful in terms of how far you can interpret. I once got flack for interpreting Leah as in some ways superior to Rachel. My sense is that most congregants are not interested in serious intellectual stimulation, or at least not at the level which requires a PhD education.

Consider the following quote from Neusner's editorial: "But they stand for a religious system and are woefully unprepared to carry out their intellectual tasks." [emphasis mine] It is this point where the divergence occurs. Neusner's concept of the role of the Rabbi is different than Avraham. While at one point the Rabbi was looked upon as an intellectual as well as a religious leader, today most rabbis are simply pastors (although many would like a larger role). Perhaps Neusner is also lamenting the diminished role of the Rabbi as well (ignoring for the moment the question of causation).

Avraham is correct in that academic credentials are not essential for many pulpits. I'm sure many rabbis can go through their careers and not be seriously challenged intellectually. However, I think Neusner is correct that to some extent Rabbis do still stand for a religious system. I say this because as a Rabbi, I get questions about every aspect of Judaism - halakha and hashkafa. On some level I'm expected to know everything - otherwise people wouldn't think of asking the Rabbi. I am viewed by others as someone who has, or more importantly should have all the answers. As I'm sure Avraham will agree, the RIETS education is hardly that thorough.

For a more specific example, assume a congregant goes off to a secular college and is exposed to bible criticism for the first time. The bewildered student then turns to his/her rabbi for some reconciliation. How can the rabbi respond effectively? Telling the student to drop the heretical class will not be helpful as it doesn't answer any of the arguments. Nor would resorting to blind faith quell the student's conflict. In order for an Orthodox rabbi to seriously answer this question, he must know the bible criticism as well as the critics, and know enough to formulate an intelligent response.

PhD's are not magic pills which bestow knowledge - rather it is the culmination of a process of intellectual growth. Although the topic of one's dissertation might never come up in one's pulpit, minimally, the analytical skills will assist the Rabbi in formulating and articulating intelligent responses to the most difficult questions.

I'd like to add that I am turning into my father. Not that this is a bad thing, just a little scary.