In the last seven years, we have witnessed a watershed in the history of
Judaism that cries out for explanation. With minimal resistance, in the
full view of world Jewry, two propositions from which every mainstream
Jew in the last millennium would have instantly recoiled have become
legitimate options within Orthodox Judaism:
1. A specific descendant of King David may be identified with certainty
as the Messiah even though he died in an unredeemed world. The
criteria always deemed necessary for a confident identification of the
Messiah—the temporal redemption of the Jewish people, a rebuilt
Temple, peace and prosperity, the universal recognition of the God of
Israel—are null and void.
2. The messianic faith of Judaism allows for the following scenario:
God will finally send the true Messiah to embark upon his redemptive
mission. The long-awaited redeemer will declare that all preparations for
the redemption have been completed and announce without qualification
that the fulfillment is absolutely imminent. He will begin the process
of gathering the dispersed of Israel to the Holy Land. He will proclaim
himself a prophet, point clearly to his messianic status, and declare
that the only remaining task is to greet him as Messiah. And then he will
die and be buried without redeeming the world. To put the matter more
succinctly, the true Messiah's redemptive mission, publicly proclaimed
and vigorously pursued, will be interrupted by death and burial and then
consummated through a Second Coming.
While the vast majority of Jews continue to perceive these as alien
propositions, and the Rabbinical Council of America has declared
that there is no place for such doctrines in Judaism, the assertion
that contemporary Orthodox Jewry effectively legitimates these beliefs
rests on a simple observation: A large segment—almost certainly a
substantial majority—of Chabad hasidim affirm that the Lubavitcher
Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, who was laid to rest in 1994,
did everything subsumed under proposition two and will soon return to
complete the redemption in his capacity as the Messiah. Adherents of this
[End Page 103]
belief, including those who have ruled that it is required by Jewish law,
routinely hold significant religious posts with the sanction of major
Orthodox authorities unconnected to their movement.
These range from the offices of the Israeli Rabbinate to the ranks of
mainstream Rabbinical organizations to the chairmanship of Rabbinic courts
in both Israel and the diaspora, not to speak of service as scribes,
ritual slaughterers, teachers, and administrators of schools and religious
organizations receiving support from mainstream Orthodoxy. Shortly after
signing a public ruling that Jewish law obligates all Jews to accept
the messiahship of the deceased Rebbe, a Montreal rabbi was appointed
head of the rabbinical court of the entire city. In summer, 2001, one
could pick up a flyer in Jerusalem advertising a program for children
run by a local Chabad house that begins with the logo of the Jerusalem
Department of Torah Culture and ends with the slogan, "May our Master,
Teacher and Rabbi the King Messiah live forever." For much of Orthodox
Jewry, the classic boundaries of Judaism's messianic faith are no more.
I take it for granted that a typical Orthodox Jew ten years ago would
have questioned the sanity of anyone asserting that adherents of such
posthumous messianism would be recognized as Orthodox rabbis in perfectly
good standing. If this assumption is correct, then the current status quo
represents a startlingly swift, profound transformation. I refer not to
the messianist belief itself but to the failure of mainstream Orthodoxy
to marginalize the believers. What can account for such acquiescence
in a community that prides itself on strict adherence to tradition and
often denies that social factors play any significant role in shaping
its beliefs and practices?
Let me begin with a broad, theoretical consideration and then move to a
constellation of more specific factors that render this development not
merely comprehensible but so ineluctable that efforts to roll it back
face almost insuperable hurdles. I do not command sufficient expertise
in the comparative sociology of religion to set up rules of general
applicability governing such transformations. It seems to me,however,
that Chabad is marked by a combination of characteristics critical
for making this sort of religious upheaval possible. Both an in-group
and an out-group, it is sufficiently self-contained, even sectarian,
to generate a deviationist ideology and sufficiently integrated to make
that ideology an acceptable option within the larger community.
On the one hand, Chabad hasidim see themselves as bearers of an expression
of Judaism radically superior to all others. It is through their leaders
that the progressive revelation of the inner Torah has taken place; it is
their rebbes who have been the potential messiahs of recent generations;
it is their emissaries who are the agents of the redemptive process,
destined to be granted front row seats near the Messiah when
[End Page 104]
he comes;
1
it is to a location adjoining their headquarters in Crown Heights that
the ultimate, heavenly Temple will descend before moving to Jerusalem.
2
The sense that they are different not only facilitates the creation of
a theology undisciplined by mainstream consensus; it leads mainstream
Jews to minimize the impact of that theology because it is perceived as
marginal and hence not threatening.
On the other hand, Lubavitch hasidim engage in outreach to all Jews,
emphasize the value of loving all of Israel, make highly sophisticated
use of mass media, retain ties with other hasidim and Orthodox Jews
even as they refrain from participating in many common endeavors, hold
posts integrated into the warp and woof of Orthodox communal life, and
establish deep reservoirs of sympathy through activities that almost all
Orthodox Jews cannot help but admire. Thus, their beliefs can decidedly
change the Jewish religion writ large.
Within this framework, then, let us turn to specific causes, reasons,
and rationales—stated and unstated—for the effective Orthodox
decision to allow this process to unfold.
The Ideal of Unity and the Avoidance of Communal Strife
The point is self-evident. Every practicing Jew has heard countless
sermons about the imperative to love one's neighbor, particularly
one's Jewish neighbor. At the barest minimum, the annual Torah reading
about Korah's rebellion against Moses (Numbers 16–17) generates
discourses about the severe prohibition against fomenting disputes
within the community. While rhetoric about this value cuts across all
Orthodox—and Jewish—lines, it is especially compelling
for Modern Orthodox Jews, who maintain cordial, even formal relations
with other denominations and pride themselves on embracing an ideal
of tolerance.
The impact of this tolerant self-image, which borders on self-definition,
can cut very deep. It is nurtured not only by a positive ideology but by
disdain for the narrowness and intolerance that are seen as quintessential
traits of the orthodoxies of the Right. It is reinforced by humorous
putdowns whose power to mold as well as express self-perceptions should
not be underestimated. Thus, a widely repeated jokeexplains that God
serves Leviathan fish at the messianic banquet out of solicitude for
those participants who will not eat the meat because they do not trust
God's shehitah. Modern Orthodox Jews who have made a habit of
poking fun at the Traditionalist Orthodox for divisive hyper-religiosity
are now faced with the prospect of evaluating the status of Lubavitch
shehitah in light of the belief of some hasidim that the Rebbe
is not only the Messiah but pure divinity. Even the few who take this
matter seriously can find it psychologically impossible to don the
[End Page 105]
mantle of those they see as religious fanatics and engage in the very
behavior they have been mocking for years.
From the perspective of the abstract principles of Orthodox Judaism,
the argument from tolerance and unity is beside the point. A few weeks
after the Torah reading about Korah, very different sermons are preached
about the zeal of Phineas (Numbers 25). No Orthodox Jew believes that
everyone committed to the Jewish community has the right to serve as
an Orthodox rabbi irrespective of his religious outlook because of
the value of unity. To resort to this principle is relevant only after
one has concluded that Lubavitch messianism is essentially within the
boundaries of Orthodoxy. Since this is precisely what is at issue,
the argument begs the question, and its powerful appeal is rooted in a
different instinct to which we now turn.
Orthopraxy and Appearance
Though my presentation in this scholarly venue is academic in substance
and largely irenic in tone, it is no secret that I have pursued
a rhetorically charged campaign to change the widespread Orthodox
indifference to this development. Two distinguished academic observers
of contemporary Orthodoxy have chided me for incurable naiveté
in imagining that matters of faith play any significant role in the
community. Anyone who looks and acts the way Lubavitch hasidim do will
be treated as an Orthodox Jew. Period. A traditional talmudist in full
agreement with my position told me, "If the messianists looked like you,
people would react differently." Similarly, two other academics argued
that issues of faith can be relevant, but only when the deviations come
from the left, that is, from a group seen as more modernist than that
of the critic.
In several conversations with fully Orthodox Jews, both Traditionalist
and Modern, I have heard formulations that come close to an unalloyedly
orthoprax position, to wit, that any Jew who observes the commandments
remains within the fold. It is no accident that enemies of Lubavitch
through the years have laid special stress on deviations from the
straightforward requirements of halakhah. This argument rests upon
Chabad justifications for not sleeping in a sukkah, not eating
the third Sabbath meal, waiting till well into the night to recite
the afternoon prayer upon the Rebbe's return from his father-in-law's
gravesite, and, on one occasion in 1991, delaying the morning prayer on
Sukkot till 3:30 P.M.3
The theoretical superstructure of Orthodoxy insists on the importance
of doctrinal as well as behavioral criteria in defining membership in
the group.
4
Nonetheless, my critics are certainly correct in arguing
[End Page 106]
that an instinct placing almost exclusive emphasis on observance of
the commandments has played a key role in discouraging a serious,
effective reaction to Chabad messianism. In pre-modern times, when
visible conformity to ritual standards was taken for granted, it could
not overwhelm all other criteria in determining an individual's communal
standing. For contemporary Jews, full observance of Orthodox law is so
clearly seen as an unambiguous marker that theology can become virtually
irrelevant.
This instinct extends even to areas of belief that technically impinge
on halakhah. Observers cannot imagine that some Lubavitch hasidim
really maintain beliefs about the Rebbe's divinity amounting to avodah
zarah, which roughly means the formal recognition or worship as God
of an entity that is in fact not God. Sociologically, then, a proviso
needs to be appended to this definition: such recognition or worship is
avodah zarah provided that the believer is someone other than a
Sabbath-observing Jew wearing a wig or a black hat. Judaism, which was
once a great faith, has become an agglomeration of dress, deportment,
and rituals.
This very point about external appearance and ritual observance was
made in Yated Ne'eman, a newspaper published in Israel by
one group that does delegitimate the messianists and, indeed, all of
Chabad—the followers of R. Elazar Menachem Schach of the Ponevezh
yeshiva in Bnei Brak.
5
The challenge, said the author, is to transcend externals and recognize
the illegitimacy of these superficially Orthodox Jews. This sector of
Israeli Orthodoxy and its counterparts in some American yeshivas do not
act on this issue because they believe they have already acted.
The Balkanization of Orthodoxy, Or the Orthodoxy of Enclaves
Why do such Jews remain relatively passive at this point despite the
evident ineffectiveness of their efforts in the wider community? While
part of the explanation lies in despair born of frustration and another
conflicting part in a rose-colored belief that by now everyone sees that
R. Schach was correct, there is a deeper issue that plays a very important
role in other sectors of the Orthodox community as well. The challenge
of modernity and the growth of religious deviationism have impelled much
of Orthodoxy to turn inward. One consequence of this orientation has been
the attenuation of the instinctive sense of a Jewish religious collective
extending beyond one's own group. Moreover, and very much to the point,
"group" does not even refer to Orthodoxy as a whole but rather to a much
smaller entity.
[End Page 107]
The main focus of many Orthodox Jews is on their own subgroup,
anshei shlomeinu in the terminology of hasidic communities,
yeshiva layt in non-hasidic groups, and so on. Consequently,
the argument that something called Judaism, even Orthodox Judaism, has
changed because of the legitimation of Lubavitch messianists, invokes
categories that have lost much of their force. I do not mean to suggest
that Orthodox Jews—even in Traditionalist circles—have
entirely rejected their responsibilities to the larger community, but
instincts have undoubtedly changed. The question posed—even in
Modern circles—is, "Does anyone in my immediate environment believe
that the Rebbe is the Messiah?" If the answer is no, then the rise of this
movement becomes a curiosity or at most a mildly disturbing development. A
blinkered, myopic question produces a blinkered, myopic response.
Orthodox Interdependence, Or the Interlocking of the Enclaves
Paradoxically, another critically important explanation stands in stark
contrast to the psychology of balkanization, namely, the reality of
interdependence. Lubavitch messianists, for all their sectarianism, are
so entwined in the larger Orthodox community—and even the Jewish
community as a whole—that excision is extraordinarily difficult.
I have had more than one conversation in which an Orthodox Jew would argue
that Lubavitch is after all a relatively small, ultimately peripheral
movement and then agree under questioning that he or she would have
considerable difficulty living without it. Rabbinic courts headed
by messianist rabbis interact regularly with other courts. How should
they be regarded? Scores of Israeli rabbis holding posts throughout the
country have signed a halakhic ruling requiring belief in the messiahship
of the Rebbe.
6
How easy would it be to remove them from office? Messianist rabbis play
a significant role in countries throughout the world. How realistic
is it to propose that they be marginalized? A respected, Lubavitch-run
kashrut organization is the supervisor of choice for restaurants
full of messianist propaganda. How does one deal with it? Rejecting
Lubavitch ritual slaughter or refusing to attend a messianist
synagogue would cause no little inconvenience to religiously observant
travelers—Orthodox and non-Orthodox—and require significant
modification of vacation plans. How realistic is the expectation that
concern with a matter of abstract theology will change established
behaviors? A significant number of Jews reside in places to which most
Jews merely travel. How can they be expected to react to the assertion
that the food, the synagogue, and the school upon which they rely have
suddenly been rendered unacceptable?
[End Page 108]
The matter is complicated further by the fact that not all Lubavitch
hasidim are messianists and not all messianists endorse a theology
of avodah zarah. It is much easier to accept false assurances
that a majority maintain Orthodox beliefs than it is to take the very
difficult steps implied in the previous paragraph. Rather than face
these consequences, Jews force themselves to conclude that second-coming
messianism promoted by people whose services they need is not really
second-coming messianism, that legitimation is not legitimation, that
avodah zarah is not avodah zarah. Of all the causes of
inaction, this is the most intractable, and it may well result in a
permanent and profound transformation of Judaism.
"Good Things"
"But they do so many good things." I cannot count the number of times I
have heard this sentence or its equivalent. Some of these "things" are
acts of kindness that are not specific to Judaism; others involve the
teaching of Torah and the successful dissemination of Jewish rituals to
the proverbial four corners of the earth. Much of the loyalty to Lubavitch
on the local level flows from personal relationships established with Jews
of all stripes—Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, even secular—in
need of an understanding heart, a sympathetic ear, a favor large
(sometimes very large) or small. In an increasingly impersonal society,
Lubavitch emissaries exult in the joy of others and empathize with their
sadness, forging bonds that cannot be broken by mere theology. On the
ritual level, they not only encourage the wearing of tefillin
and the lighting of Sabbath candles; they provide travelers with kosher
food, a Passover seder, a prayer service, and more. The beneficiaries
of this largesse cannot help but feel the most profound gratitude.
Once again, looking at this consideration through a purely theoretical
Orthodox prism renders it highly problematic. If the recognition of
Lubavitch messianists as Orthodox rabbis really destroys the parameters
of Judaism's messianic faith (as it surely does), then the issue needs
to be framed in global terms. You can gain ten thousand (or one hundred
thousand, or one million) additional observant Jews at the price of
accepting a fundamental change in a core belief of Judaism. Are you
prepared to pay that price? Posed in the abstract to an Orthodox audience,
this should be a rhetorical question. But people are rarely motivated by
abstractions or by concern for the course of history writ large. How,
they ask, can we not be impressed with this selfless family that has
established a synagogue in a spiritual wilderness and persuaded people
who would have lost their Jewish identity entirely to
[End Page 109]
observe the Torah? In such a struggle between heart and mind, the mind
stands little chance.
7
Transient Insanity
I have heard the assertion that the messianists are crazy no less
frequently than the argument that "they do good things." Sometimes
this appears to mean that because the belief is insane it will
surely not last and should therefore be treated with benign—or
malign—neglect. In this version, the contention is problematic
but coherent. In most cases, however, the word meshugoyim
(crazy people) or meshugaas (craziness) seems to be intended
as a self-contained argument. Because they are crazy, they cannot be
taken seriously and should be ignored—or even supported for their
"good things." Precisely because it is so difficult to assign a coherent
meaning to this argument, it reveals once again the operation of a deep
instinct that seeks any avenue to avoid the unwanted conclusion that
messianists should be excluded from Orthodoxy.
Most people who proffer this argument appear to agree that the messianist
belief stands in contradiction to the classical Jewish messianic
faith. But if this is so, it is difficult to see how the "fact" that it
is also a form of craziness qualifies the believer to be a rabbi, judge,
principal, or teacher. Does the very fact that it is crazy somehow make
it compatible with Judaism?
8
Imagine a colloquy in which someone objects to hiring a messianist
rabbi. A supporter of the appointment responds, "It is true that he
maintains a profoundly un-Jewish belief, but this drawback is neutralized
by a countervailing consideration that works in his favor. He is crazy."
Moreover, the large majority of messianists are not crazy in any clinical
sense; to suggest that they are is crazy. The non-messianists in Chabad
face daunting obstacles in their efforts to interpret teachings of the
Rebbe that appear to point to his messiahship. Against this background,
for a hasid to defend the messianist position through a variety of learned
and complex strategies is decidedly not a violation of the canons of
reason. An outside observer is, of course, free to argue that belief in
the resurrection of the dead, or in a personal Messiah, or, for that
matter, in God, is itself irrational. By that criterion, however, all
serious Orthodox Jews (and, for that matter, Christians) are crazy.
This is not to deny that the percentage of unbalanced individuals is
probably somewhat higher in the messianist population than in the Jewish
population as a whole. Extreme doctrines like the belief that the Rebbe
is fully alive can easily elicit contemptuous jokes, and this too is an
important factor in preventing serious responses. The assumption
[End Page 110]
that only meshugoyim could possibly believe that the Rebbe is the
Messiah also contributes to a dramatically unrealistic underestimate
of the extent of messianism in Chabad. After all, say many observers,
since I know that Rabbi so-and-so is a perfectly normal person; it
follows that he could not possibly be a believer.
9
The association of messianism with insanity also bears on the
confident predictions of the inevitable, imminent disappearance of
belief in the messiahship of the Rebbe. The fact that a religion called
Christianity, which also believes in a dying and resurrected redeemer,
has not yet disappeared ought to give at least some pause to these
prognosticators. Let me reinforce this point by adducing a much more
recent and hence even more apt example.
Mormonism was born in modern times as a dramatically deviant form of
Christianity. It makes highly problematic historical assertions about
relatively recent events. Its theology makes that of Lubavitch messianists
appear like the very soul of rationality. It has a sophisticated,
well-educated constituency. It sends emissaries to the ends of the earth
to make converts and is, I believe, the fastest growing religion in the
world. Whatever one thinks of the rationality of the first generation
of believers, children brought up in such a faith can surely accept it
without damage to their rational faculties. If Mormonism flourishes,
why is Chabad messianism necessarily condemned to extinction?
I will not hazard a prediction as to the medium- or long-term survival
of this belief. Menachem Friedman, the most distinguished sociologist of
Orthodoxy in Israel, believes that in a leaderless movement, the group
with the most fervent message is likely to prevail. If so, then all the
worldwide institutions of Chabad will eventually be mobilized to spread
this version of Judaism. However that may be, I certainly do not see
what will destroy this faith as long as the rest of Orthodoxy legitimates
messianist rabbis and the bulk of the Chabad educational system remains
in messianist hands. Confident prognostications of imminent demise fly
in the face of reason.
10
The Waning of a Christian Threat and the Atrophy of Jewish Messianic Instincts
With the decline of a pervasive Christian threat, familiarity with
messianic texts and sensitivity to messianic deviationism has waned to
the vanishing point even among learned Jews. Jewish polemical texts are
not part of the Orthodox curriculum nor (outside Chabad) are treatises
dealing with redemption. Moreover, I think that the celebrated observation
that many Orthodox Jews no longer trust the traditions with which they
were raised is also germane to this development.
11
In previous
[End Page 111]
generations, Jews would have paid little attention to messianist
sectarians who "proved" that their belief is acceptable by pointing to one
line in Sanhedrin 98b. Now, unbound by a consensus once imbibed by
every Jewish tailor and shoemaker with his mother's milk, and oblivious
of a rich polemical literature, they function as tabulae rasae
for every unfamiliar text introduced to them. While they will not go
so far as to embrace the belief in the Rebbe's messiahship, they can be
persuaded that there is nothing fundamentally wrong with it.
Just Another Change
Finally, several people who understand very well that Lubavitch messianism
has no legitimate precedent in Judaism have nonetheless chided me for
attributing so much significance to this development. After all, they
say, I am a historian, and a historian of ideas no less. I should know
better than most that beliefs change, that religions evolve. Hasidism
itself was an innovation. Religious Zionism was an innovation. Why must
I remain in a state of arrested development, embalmed in the world of
the Barcelona disputation?
I am inclined to think that this argument is not a primary cause of
Orthodox inaction because it appeals only to the most modernist worldview
within Orthodoxy. Some Lubavitch hasidim, however, have also mobilized
it for polemical purposes. Since it involves an issue of religious
judgment and has been posed to me in a personal way, I take the liberty
of injecting an overtly personal response into this analysis.
It should not be necessary to say that historians are permitted to have
commitments to abiding principles. The decision to study history is
not a decision to embrace change as one's supreme value. All religious
traditions have boundaries, and any adherent of such a tradition faces the
challenge of deciding whether or not a particular innovation subverts core
elements of that tradition. Here is my response to one of these critics:
I consider this issue [especially] serious for roughly the following
reasons: 1–It involves a key element in the understanding
of one of the iqqarei ha-emunah (fundamentals of the
faith). 2–Comparable movements throughout Jewish history have been
thoroughly, vehemently, angrily delegitimated by klal Yisrael [the
Jewish collective]. I refer both to the movements that persisted after the
candidate's death and the movements that died with his death precisely
because their posthumous survival was unthinkable. 3–Denial of
such a belief has been a part of the very definition of Judaism in
innumerable confrontations with the Christian mission. Accepting it as
a harmless enthusiasm awards victory to Christianity on a fundamental
matter of principle. 4–It has led to avodah zarah in both
past instances and shows signs of doing so again.
[End Page 112]
The Difficulties of "Starting a Fight with Lubavitch"
Finally, there are pragmatic obstacles that beset any effort to
delegitimate this belief and its adherents. Lubavitch messianists
are the dominant part of an influential movement with impressive
human, financial, and political resources that defends its interests
vigorously. Few people have the stomach to pursue a campaign that will
cause them to be publicly labeled—as I can testify from personal
experience—haters, dividers, liars, heretics, egotistical seekers
of fame and fortune, ignoramuses, snakes, asses, and pigs. The reluctance
to "start a fight with Lubavitch" is palpable, particularly on the part
of those whose institutions might lose support from Chabad sympathizers
or whose positions might even be jeopardized. Since a large majority
of Orthodox Jews rely on a very small number of rabbinic authorities to
make decisions of such moment, it is only necessary to deter a relative
handful of people from taking action.
* * *
A phenomenon that appears at first, uncritical glance to be inexplicable
turns out upon examination to be overdetermined. Primarily social factors
abetted at critical points by religious sensibilities can sweep away a
central doctrine of a well-established faith with a millennial history
of withstanding the most severe pressure. Had this change been imposed
from without, Orthodox Jews would have resisted at all costs. But it
came from within, and to this point it has prevailed.
Brooklyn College
David Berger is Broeklundian Professor of History at Brooklyn
College and the Graduate Center of the City University of New York. In
addition to The Rebbe, The Messiah, and The Scandal of Orthodox
Indifference (2001), from which the essay in this issue is adapted, he
is author of The Jewish-Christian Debate in the High Middle Ages
(1979) and co-author of Judaism's Encounter with Other Cultures:
Rejection or Integration? (1997).
Notes
This article is an adaptation and elaboration of chapter 13 of my The
Rebbe, the Messiah, and the Scandal of Orthodox Indifference (Littman
Library of Jewish Civilization: Oxford and Portland, Oregon, 2001). The
first few paragraphs, which set the stage for the subsequent analysis,
are adapted from the book's introduction.
1.
Note the little vignette in Kfar Chabad 731 (Eve of Sukkot,
5757; Sept. 27, 1996), where the Rebbe tells the discouraged wife of
an emissary, "We are on the verge of being privileged to experience
the coming of the Messiah. You must decide where you want to be at
that time—pushed far back among the masses or together with the
emissaries who see the face of the king and sit first in the kingdom."
2.
See R. Menachem Mendel Schneerson, Kuntres be-Inyan Mikdash Me'at
Zeh Beit Rabbenu she-be-Bavel (Brooklyn, 1992).
3.
With respect to the first two issues, the problem was less with the
practice itself than with the seemingly principled rejection of the
requirement. On that Sukkot day in 1991, see Binyamin Lipkin,
Heshbono shel Olam (Lod, 2000), pp. 112–113.
4.
See my review of Menachem Kellner, "Must a Jew Believe
Anything?" Tradition Vol. 33, No. 4 (Summer, 1999),
pp. 81–89.
5.
See Natan Ze'ev Grossman, in the Hebrew Yated Ne'eman, March 13,
1998, pp. 15, 22.
7.
Arguments for the delegitimation of Lubavitch messianism can, of course,
also appeal to the heart, and I have attempted in other forums to evoke
such emotions to the best of my ability. See, for example, The Rebbe,
the Messiah, and the Scandal of Orthodox Indifference, where I
argue that Orthodox Judaism has effectively declared that "on a matter
of fundamental principle our martyred ancestors were wrong and their
Christian murderers were right" (p. 75).
8.
For those concerned with the posthumous destiny of people who might be
heretics, the assertion that they are crazy can serve as mitigation. This,
however, does not appear to be the primary context in which the argument
is used.
9.
It is not uncommon for ordinary Orthodox Jews to find themselves subjected
to analogous misperceptions. Many years ago, a non-Jewish colleague
in my department took it for granted that I did not follow a bizarre
practice that she had just been told about, to wit, that Orthodox Jews
will not drink wine handled by Gentiles. Somewhat more recently, two
Jewish colleagues asked me about an article in the New York Times
describing a shatnez-testing laboratory in Brooklyn. When I
proceeded to show them the non-shatnez label in my jacket, they
managed to remain polite but were clearly non-plussed to discover that
a person who usually appeared reasonably sane actually adhered to such
outlandish regulations. All this notwithstanding the fact that I wear
a yarmulke at work and make my Orthodox affiliation clear in more ways
than I can recount.
10.
The failure to take this development seriously has led more than one
person to suggest that I stop wasting my time on it. A very distinguished
scholar who is an observant Jew urged me to remain focused on the area
where I do important work, the Middle Ages. In other words, I should
spend all my time studying what is really significant, namely, Jewish
arguments against Christianity in the Middle Ages, rather than diverting
my attention to the trivial issue of whether Jews still believe those
arguments. I wonder what this scholar tells his students about the uses
of history.
11.
See Menachem Friedman, "Life Tradition and Book Tradition in the
Development of Ultraorthodox Judaism," in Judaism from Within and
from Without: Anthropological Studies, ed. Harvey Goldberg, (Albany,
1987), pp. 235–255; Haym Soloveitchik, "Rupture and Reconstruction:
The Transformation of Contemporary Orthodoxy," Tradition, Vol. 28,
No. 4 (Summer, 1994), pp. 64–130.