Anyone with a cursory knowledge of Jews and Judaism should be well aware of the fractured nature of the religion. Some may be able to identify a denomination or two, and the differences between them. Certainly most would recognize the superficial differences between Orthodox, “ultra-Orthodox,” and everyone else.

There are of course many more nuances within each denomination, with a seemingly endless supply of labels to classify each of them. Some Orthodox are “modern” others “yeshivish” and varying shades of “frum.” Not surprisingly, the definitions for these terms are elusive and will vary depending on your background and biases.

There is however one common theme to these distinctions; the labels, camps, and denominations, all reflect differing religious practices and/or ideologies. This of course is not surprising considering that we are discussing sub-groups within a religion. What is notable however, is that within the Orthodox camp, there are fundamentals to which all people allegedly adhere. Specifically, Orthodox Jews tend to believe in the religious authority of the written and oral laws.

Here is where everything breaks down, and again, not surprisingly, the problem is one of conflicting definitions. What is considered part of these canons of Jewish law? Furthermore, assuming one can define these canons, what are the correct, legitimate, and plausible interpretations of these sources? The answers to these questions will most likely determine your religious practice and thus your place in the Orthodox spectrum.

Despite the importance of simply defining halakha, there are few if any coherent and descriptions for how halakha works. There are numerous codes, collections, and letters, but each author is usually working with a different set of assumptions or perspectives – not all of which will be articulated, or even written as an objective model applicable to all Jews at all times.¹

The consequence of such ambiguity is that effectively how Halakha is interpreted does change from time to time.²

Furthermore, resolving such issues will inevitably lead one back to the questions of canon and authority. Some would argue that the Halakhic system allows for changes to be made to Jewish law. However, if changes are not regulated somehow, the result could easily be anarchy. Others prefer to restrict any changes by creating a myth of an uninterrupted chain of authentic tradition dating from Moses to contemporary times, ignoring or suppressing any uncomfortable historical data.

There is of course an alternative, and conveniently enough, it is found in the oral law itself.
The oral law does not only contain random acts of jurisprudence, but it also outlines the system of how Jewish law ought to work. It describes the nature of rabbinic authority and the rights and limits of personal freedoms within the law itself. Granted, most Orthodox Jews do not follow this system in practice and some reject it outright and we will deal with the reasons in due time.
However, one could assume that as Orthodox Jews, we would first know how the universally canonical Torah Shebe’al Peh defines Halakha, so that we can intelligently apply Jewish law to our ever changing world. For the sake of efficiency, the next post will focus specifically on the role of custom and the role of Jewish society in determining Jewish law. This will help elucidate not only individual practices, but what role a communal consensus plays in determining Jewish Law.

1. One notable exception would be Rambam’s introduction to the Mishnah Torah. However, many disregard that halakhic system saying, “that’s only for Sephardim” and “we don’t pasken like that.” It is also no coincidence that most of Judaism’s socio-religious divisions developed within the Ashkenazi communities.
2. By “Halakha,” I do not refer to the specific interpretations and rulings, but of the rules and system through which such rulings are formed and evaluated.

It is never easy for someone to simply compose a document explaining one’s world view. For one, it is difficult to organize one’s thoughts and present them coherently when there are numerous interrelated concepts. On a micro-level each word and phrase must also be carefully analyzed for they too impact how one’s position will be received. Then, regardless of how well (or poorly) one succeeds in writing one’s thoughts, is of course the inevitable criticism which will follow.

Because it is a personal exercise, critiques are more likely to be taken personally. As such, whoever would accept such a challenge must be able to balance between ideological and personal rejection.

Simply put, people don’t like being told that they’re wrong, especially regarding their essential fundamental beliefs.
This is especially true when the topic at hand is religion for one’s opinions often result in serious repercussions.¹ In Judaism for example, arguments over kashrut affect who can eat someone’s house. If someone is thought to be a Shabbat violator, then his overall halakhic status is aversely affected.

Furthermore, disputes over the fundamental nature of halakha may lead to someone being branded a heretic and/or be socially excommunicated as being “beyond the pale” of Judaism. In such cases, a person might not be counted in minyan. If the person in question is a Rabbi, this could lead some to question or reject someone’s marriages, or worse, divorces.
Despite all these reservations and potential repercussions, I am finding it more and more necessary to explain my opinions on Judaism, especially regarding halakha. The main reason is simply for clarification. Many people have had isolated conversations with my father, and as such many people have incomplete or incorrect views of what his system is. I have also had similar results from similar limitations; a typical conversation does not allow for a full explication of one’s ideas. Given the potential consequences outlined above, this has led to much confusion as to what we actually believe.² Rather than rely on other’s labels and assessments, I can let my own words express my opinions.

Secondly, in the process of the next few essays, I hope to redefine and clarify many of the misconceptions people have about halakha. As most Orthodox Jews have found, halakhaic arguments are generally pointless or counter-productive, most likely because people have their own definitions and frequently talk past each other. What I will show is that in many cases people are not necessarily as far apart as their arguments may indicate.

Finally, the opinions set forth here while not necessarily innovative, will probably be unique to most readers. Few if any orthodox Jews have coherent or consistent perceptions of halakha or Judaism as a whole. Some prefer not to think about things, others are just comfortable with whatever inconsistencies they might have. In the forthcoming essays I hope to at least call attention to certain issues. You may agree with my perceptions and conclusions, or you may find them unconvincing. Minimally, I hope that the issues raised will be thought-provoking.

And perhaps realize that maybe I am not as crazy as you’d think.³

1. See Strauss, Leo.
2. Although, based on blog feedback and comments, I have found that putting things into print does not always help matters. Still, having something I wrote in print makes for easier referencing and correcting.
3. Or of course, perhaps more than you ever imagined.

Last week was Edah’s 4th International Conference. The stated theme of this year’s conference focused on Modern Orthodoxy’s challenges and opportunities. No stranger to controversy, Edah had listed as a session, “The Legal Philosophy of Rabbi Hershel Schachter and Its Challenge to Orthodox Moderns.”
Most of the pre-conference buzz was devoted to guessing what this session would be like. The initial schedule did not list the presenters, so there were several theoretical possiblities. Most of the people I spoke with before the conference were concerned that this would simply be a “hatchet job” on Rav Schachter. Certainly Edah would have the motive to “bash Rav Schachter”, considering his positions on Edah and his recent controversial comments. Consequently, the opinions I had seen ranged from skepticism to outright pessimism.
By now, most of you will know that the lecture was given by my father, Rabbi Alan J. Yuter, and it was upon his request I didn’t enter into the pre-conference fray,¹ and as such I had some insider information. First, the title of the session was not his, and it was eventually changed to the more neutral “The Legal Thought of Rabbi Hershel Schachter.” Second, I knew it wasn’t going to be the hatchet job people were expecting. Those who have heard and/or read my father’s academic presentations know that he doesn’t resort to personal attacks and any statement he makes will be supported.
As it turned out, after the conference, people were disappointed that my father didn’t take the shots at Rav Schachter that they were expecting. It appears that some just wanted to see someone give Rav Schachter his comeuppance or perhaps exact a measure of ideological revenge. For one example, when my father began by saying Rav Schachter is neither a fanatic nor a sexist, one friend of mine admitted tuning him out. What I find interesting is that this mentality justifies the skepticism levied upon the conference. Many didn’t give Edah the credit to present a critical analysis of Rav Schachter because of emotional reactions or personal biases. If some attendies had their way, the critics would have been right.
In truth, the nature of the presentation really speaks more to the skill of my father. There were criticisms of Rav Schachter in the session², but it was done such that only those interested in first understanding Rav Schachter would notice. Those that were interested in a verbal smackdown left empty handed – no catchy sound bytes and no critical comprehension of what they had just heard.
For those who missed the session – either literally or figuratively – worry not. The presentation was a condensed version of a comprehensive fully footnoted article which is nearing completion.

1. My father’s position was that Edah would eventually publish the speaker’s list. He was more focused on preparing the actual session than dealing with the rampant online speculation.
2. Although I wasn’t there, I’ve discussed the topic with him enough to know approximately what he said.

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“Whoever invalidates a person (in the context of marriage) is himself invalidated” Shmuel says, whoever invalidates does so though the faults with which he has himself.

– Kiddushin 70a

“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?”

– Matt. 7:1-3

“He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

– Friedrich Nietzsche

“I know you are, but what am I?”

– Anonymous / Pee Wee Herman

Long before Freud gave it a spiffy name, many cultures and people have addressed or acknowledged the concept of Psychological Projection. The basic theory is that instead of dealing with your own faults, you “project” them on to other people by holding them accountable for your own shortcomings or by screwing around with their heads such that they’re as messed up as you are. Though not always intentional, projection can still be harmful. Not only does it make insecure people feel even worse, it may also make satisfied people start to question themselves.
We’ve all had such experiences, and for me this has been an especially busy week.

Of the positions in the orthodox rabbinate, perhaps the two most noticeable and influential are those of the Rav and the Rosh Yeshiva. The Rav is more commonly known as a “pulpit rabbi” and is employed by a community to oversee and establish religious policy for his congregation.¹ The Rosh Yeshiva is not necessarily the “head of the school” as its title translated,² but rather is a Torah scholar who often teaches those who will eventually become Rabbis.

In contemporary halakhic disputes, it is not uncommon to find these two groups on opposite sides – especially regarding modifications to existing practices or customs. A Rav may wish to innovate, and a Rosh Yeshiva would wish to preserve the status quo. The real question is not the nature of the new or modified practice, but who has the real authority to promote change in normative Judaism.

Introduction
For most of my life, I have been involved in the rabbinate. I grew up with a father who was a pulpit rabbi for almost 20 years. I was in the YU system for 7 years, studying with many rabbis-in-training and eventually becoming ordained myself. Most recently, I served as intern for at the “Bridge Shul” in Washington Heights.
Between my varied experiences with the rabbinate, my studies this year, and the evolving nature of the profession, I have been constantly refining my thoughts on the rabbinate. This week, I?ll be posting a series of essays about the rabbinate based on my studies and experiences from just about every perspective.
I have decided to organize my thoughts into three or four posts. The first will be about the Rabbi as an abstract institution, focusing on the halakhic role and authority of a contemporary Rabbi. Then I will address the realities of the current state of the rabbinate, including the nature of communities and how it effects the future of rabbinical schools. Finally, I?d like to elaborate on the existential side of being a rabbi while maintaining a personal identity (such as it is). If there is time or interest, I might add in a post on why I made the educational decisions that I did. I?ll probably conclude with a post responding to comments.
Disclaimer: Although I will focus on the pulpit, I will not be referring to any specific community or congregation in particular, but to my collective experiences.

Recently, I submitted a paper for a class titled “Theology and Mythology of Evil.” The class read texts from several cultures and religions, each attempting to resolve how Evil could exist, especially in a world of an omniscient and beneficent God (or Gods as the case may be).

I noticed in the class a tendency for people to assume that there exists a particular “Jewish” attitude regarding Evil. Although this is true to some extent, the overall perception mirrors the attitude of the yeshiva – that one or two opinions believed by Jews makes the opinion “Jewish” – to the possible exclusion of everything else.

This attitude is precisely what prompted me to start the Mahshevet Hazal shiurim. With this in mind, I collected several sources from the Talmud which illustrate the plurality of opinions regarding the problem of theodicy. While retaining the multiple and often mutually exclusive positions in the Talmud, I offered my suggestions for a unified Rabbinic approach to Evil.