Part I
Growth and Challenge
Rav Yaakov Emden zt'l writes that Am Yisroel's
survival in the face of the efforts of all those who have
arisen to destroy us -- like a sheep among seventy wolves --
is the greatest miracle in all of history. A similar
observation can be made about the growth and expansion of the
chareidi community in the Holy Land despite all the attempts
to halt and contain it. The survival and flowering of the
Torah world in the face of overt sabotage and persecution
must also be reckoned as one of the miracles of the survival
of the Torah nation.
In recent decades, with siyata deShmaya, we have seen
the growth of wonderful Torah institutions, the expansion of
centers of chareidi population, the peopling of new housing
projects by thousands of families, the proliferation of an
array of outreach, welfare and medical and support
organizations and swelling in the ranks of activists and
communal workers attending to our community's needs. For all
this we must thank Hashem yisborach, who bestows His
abundant goodness and kindness upon us and protects us from
those who would harm us.
At the same time however, we are also witness to other signs
that are far less desirable (to say the least) on the fringes
of our camp. We are seeing the development of a new sub-
group, the "new chareidi," with which the secular
establishment is enraptured. These folk wear black
yarmulkes but define themselves as having minds that
are "open to the wide world." In their daily lives, they do
not abstain from practices that do not befit Torah
families.
In an earlier discussion of this subject in these columns, we
expressed astonishment at the classification of such people
as chareidim merely on the basis of such externals as garb
and domicile, when they do not behave as though they tremble
over Hashem's word, and raise their families in lifestyles
that are hardly designed to emulate the spiritual goals for
which our Sages exhort us to strive.
Although they are hardly part of the chareidi mainstream,
they will never agree to exchange their headgear for a
different type. They do feel a part of the chareidi
community. They will occasionally be very stubborn about
attempting to enroll their children into chareidi educational
institutions, defending their "right" to conduct themselves
as a "new breed" of chareidi. The secular media and academic
world rub their hands in glee at this phenomenon and publish
articles, studies and books that examine and dissect it, but
the giant dimensions that they portray it as having reached
are hopelessly out of touch with reality.
Just the Same?
For the sake of the normative majority, it is essential to
respond clearly to the question, "Who is a chareidi?"
Those who are striking new paths on the one hand while
clinging to their chareidi label on the other would also do
well to realize that it is not a name- tag but a status that
confers obligations. It is highly doubtful though, that they
can be influenced to change their ways. Our recent history
shows that once the process of being drawn towards the
irreligious world and becoming imbued with "the spirit of the
times" has started, it is virtually irreversible.
Our message here is thus directed principally at ourselves.
Unless we can identify the differences between what we shall
call the normal Torah family and those on the fringe, showing
exactly how and where we differ, we are laying ourselves and
our impressionable youngsters open to an hidden but dangerous
influence from a quarter that looks outwardly benign.
The need to make this type of distinction is the subject of
an original idea expressed by Rav Zalman Sorotzkin zt'l,
based upon Rashi's well-known comment at the beginning of
parshas Emor. In telling Moshe to instruct the
cohanim about avoiding the impurity of the dead, the
posuk (Vayikra 21:1) uses the double term emor . .
. ve'omarto. Rashi explains that this alludes to an
obligation for adult cohanim to keep young
cohanim, who are otherwise exempt from mitzvos, from
becoming impure. Rav Boruch Sorotzkin zt'l used to
quote his father, the Lutzker Rov, who explained why
cohanim in particular are instructed to train their
youngsters (brought in Peninim Mishulchan HaGra by
Rabbi Dov Eliach).
It can be argued that raising an ordinary Jewish youngster is
in one sense not a terribly difficult or complicated task.
Even a child can understand that he must not copy the
despicable ways of the gentiles. A young cohein on the
other hand, has to be raised to avoid impurity while he sees
that all his friends, who otherwise observe the very same
mitzvos that he does, are completely free of these
restrictions. This makes his education that much harder and
the need to supervise him closely that much greater.
It is important to bear this in mind when approaching one of
the common difficulties of child-raising in recent
generations. Placing the example of the young cohanim
into a broader context, children often want to know why their
parents will not allow them to go to certain places, engage
in certain pastimes etc. when other children who outwardly
seem no different from them are allowed to. "Why is he
allowed to and I'm not?" your child might want to know. The
child he is talking about looks and dresses like your own and
moves in the same social milieu, enabling his behavior to
serve as a basis for comparison, even though his parents'
lifestyle is not exactly a Torah one.
Another Judaism?
Everyone has faced this kind of problem to an extent, in
recent generations, since the propagation of the myth
invented by irreligious inciters of a secular Jewish culture -
- that really only imitates gentile ways -- and the
distortion of the secular Jew to which it led.
A secular Jewish environment is far more spiritually damaging
to weak-minded observant Jews than a wholly gentile one. Even
a moderately religious Jew understands that a gentile is
different and his innate pride in his Jewish identity
prevents him from considering his neighbor as his peer and
equal. However, when "we are all Jews" defenses are down and
the surroundings can exert a far-reaching influence.
This was recently illustrated by someone who grew up in a
religious home in a gentile neighborhood in America. He
maintained his faith for many years over there but ultimately
abandoned it upon arriving in the State of Israel and
encountering the secular Jewish environment. In a media
interview, he said that at that point he started defining his
Judaism "in a cultural sense."
"Where I grew up," he continued, "there is no such thing as
being culturally Jewish. Only during my first week in Israel,
aged eighteen, did I finally give up my religion. Then, for
the first time in my life, I profaned Shabbat when I boarded
a bus to Tiberius after Shabbat had come in. Before coming to
Israel, I had never seen people whose identity as Jews
depended on Jewish culture.
"Today I am completely irreligious and when someone becomes
secular then there is usually no real difference for him
between eating on Yom Kippur, shaving his side locks with a
razor or eating pork. For me, everything just gave way. I
simply no longer feel the need to observe mitzvot."
Weak characters of this sort experience culture shock and
feel as though their eyes have been opened when they
encounter the lifestyles of Jews by descent who no longer
feel bound or obligated by their Judaism and their ancestral
heritage. Although they would never compare themselves to
their gentile neighbors, when the neighbor is a "different"
kind of Jew, these people are easy prey for the yetzer
hora.
We are Different
This can help us understand the present situation within our
own camp. The average chareidi child is not subject to the
pressures just described. He knows that the secular way of
life is abhorrent. He understands that he has nothing in
common with irreligious youth who lead spiritually bankrupt
and rotten, hollow lives of materialism and pleasure-
seeking.
However, when confronted by a chareidi family who look
similar to his own, who live in his neighborhood and who
often patronize a standard Torah educational institution,
things are different. Then the questions start being asked.
"Why can they do it and we can't? They're also chareidim!"
The challenge for parents and educators is to explain firmly
and clearly that "we are different" and that the "new
chareidim" might be something new but they certainly aren't
chareidim.
Being chareidi isn't just a matter of belonging to a club. It
is an exalted way of life involving more of an ongoing
internal process -- self-discipline, working on character,
advancement in Torah and in yiras Shomayim -- than
external appearance. Building a life around self-growth
however, requires absolute separation from the superficial
"street" mindset that is always finding diversion in some new
sensation. It also precludes casting frequent glances towards
the secular world and its array of glittering nothings --
even and especially those that bear a "kashrus stamp" and
swiftly find their way into the homes of the "new chareidim"
because "the Shulchan Oruch doesn't expressly forbid
it."
End of Part I
