Yesterday’s Voices
Moishe Antloffen2010Off the Derech[Reflections]
“Zah nisht kan naar!” thundered a voice about fifteen feet away. I turned to see a husky middle-aged clean-shaven man in a ragged suit jacket and mismatched pants conducting a domineering exchange with a bearded yingermann.
I was standing at the counter in a busy deli, the only glatt kosher one within walking distance of yeshiva, and I had come in search of comfort. Perhaps the loneliness and disorientation I felt in my first several weeks at Lakewood could be soothed for a few moments by communing with a pastrami sandwich or a meat knish. Sometimes the stomach can distract the heart.
It had taken a lot to get admitted to Lakewood. Initially, even with solid recommendations, I was turned away. But after several Roshei Yeshiva from Eretz Yisroel called or sent letters on my behalf, and other means at my disposal were employed, I was eventually accepted. It had seemed the best step for me after having learned for several years in Yerushalayim: I expected to be interacting with some of the smartest talmidei chachamim, to find both spiritual inspiration and intellectual stimulation—and, of course, to succeed with shidduchim.
“Be careful what you wish for,” goes the old proverb. I was placed in a dormitory room with four roommates, strangers to me, who didn’t get up for davening; so although they, in behavior likely very uncommon for the yeshiva, often returned at 1 or 2 a.m. from Atlantic City or other decidedly unspiritual escapades, they rested well—while I, a light sleeper, and wanting to do the right thing, stayed at yeshiva, was frequently awakened at their comings and goings, and exhausted, tore myself out of bed at 6:30 every morning to attend shachris—crowded with hundreds whose roommates were, no doubt, better rested. Looking back at those early benighted years, I see how lucky I was to have been unlucky. One does not reconsider one’s commitments from a well-contented state.
“Zah nisht kan naar!” the voice bellowed again, this time tailing off with notes of disappointment and contempt. Apparently whatever response the young man had offered was deemed foolish, and I, noting the volume and intensity with which the refrain was repeatedly delivered, and knowing how emotional needs and wounds, and verbal expressions, too, are often passed on to us by previous generations, wondered who, in forgotten days, had made the boy who turned into this bloviating bully feel stupid, or from whom he had first heard his apparently oft-used dismissive expression.
At the counter there seemed to be no line, only people milling about. Others kept ordering before I could get anyone’s attention; I stood there anticipating getting served. “Are you waiting?” the hefty proprietor finally asked. “You’re very eidel,” he said, smiling and shaking his head side to side in the unrestrained admiration characteristic of the generous-hearted and simple-minded. I gave him my order—one potato knish and one meat knish: I was to feast on side dishes. In truth, whatever eidelkeit I possessed was at best only a part-explanation of my behavior: I was also half-broken with anxiety and exhaustion, and disorientation and self-doubt had beaten me into passivity. I took the knishes “to go.”
Trudging back to the yeshiva, I thought of my chavrusas and others I’d approached in the beis medrash who seemed content to just read and memorize the p’shat of Rashi, Tosfos, and m’forshim without seeking to encounter the Gemara’s text, let alone Rashi’s, with a fresh eye, and to ask independent questions—and who weren’t bothered by a problem or an awkward wording so long as the m’forshim didn’t mention it… and who were surprised and impatient when I did want to have an authentic, autonomous learning experience. I realized that not only was there neither sleep nor friendship for me there, the vaunted institution of scholarship could not even offer what for me was any worthwhile learning. Yes, I’m sure the yeshiva flowered daily with chiddushim and pilpul aplenty—and even with what some would characterize as learning that was autonomous and authentic—but to me, like a man in a foreign landscape, though surrounded by happy natives, the vegetation was unfamiliar and the scent of the grasses unsatisfying.
The next day, during morning seder in the beis medrash where, as always, it was so loud I couldn’t think clearly, and could barely hear my chavrusa shouting at me what he had gleaned from the Ktzois, my mind rebelled at the pointlessness and inauthenticity and unredeeming assault on my senses and sensibilities of it all, and I began to get dizzy, lose my field of vision… and felt like I was going to faint. Looking back, it may have been a migraine-related episode, or a panic attack—but whatever it was, it was triggered in my body and soul by those circumstances, and I knew I had to leave not only the beis medrash for that seder, but the yeshiva for good.
Like the biblical Exodus, when freedom came, it was with a rush and a frenzy. I got back to Brooklyn; I don’t even remember how. I left most of my things in the dorm room and in storage, never to be claimed—s’forim, books, clothing, electronics, anything that didn’t fit in to the bag I fled home with.
Still, I didn’t give up on “learning.” In fact, I went on to study at a large yeshiva —with a beis medrash where I could hear myself think—and eventually got s’micha. Only later, when attending graduate school and interacting with secular students did my philosophical questions become more pressing and alive. For years I had known apologetic answers, but when encountering the up-close challenge of real human beings who believed and behaved differently, the apologetics didn’t hold up, even in my own judgment.
One simple incident comes to mind: It was a Monday afternoon in October and I was sitting in class next to Jennifer, a vivacious secular Jew from Long Island, waiting for the professor to arrive. She reached into her bag and took out some non-kosher candy. I felt pity for her, because she didn’t know the beautiful traditions of her people, and the reasons she shouldn’t be eating that candy. I began to rehearse what I would tell her.
Then it hit me with a start. I realized that I couldn’t prove to her that I was right, that there was any compelling reason not to eat non-kosher food, that I really knew my tradition to be the will of God. All my kiruv apologetics, I recognized in an instant, were at best, one “respectable” way of seeing things. But they were not persuasive to any significant percentage of objective minds. “If I can’t convince others,” I asked myself, “why am I convinced?”
I said nothing to Jennifer. She never knew about the internal dialogue on the matter of her candy—and she never knew how much I learned from almost interacting with her.
Several years of agonizing followed before I definitively concluded that I could no longer believe, and additional years passed while I lived in a Borough Park basement waiting for my sisters to get married before I left the community. I hunkered down, hoping that there were so many shuls and shtiebels nearby that nobody would notice I didn’t attend any of them, and hoping, too, that my landlord didn’t hear my blanket-wrapped modem squealing as I signed on to the Internet on Friday nights. Ultimately I moved away from NY, and away from all pretense at religion. Ironically, my sisters had married out-of-town guys who worked in kiruv: I needn’t have waited.
Over the ensuing years I’ve done worthwhile and beautiful things: survived, loved, suffered, practiced a profession, flowered creatively, helped others heal, exchanged concrete and asphalt in Brooklyn for large green fields in the heartland… and more. Yet looking back from the distance of two decades, with the silvery beginnings of age nipping at my hair, and humility and mortality speaking more loudly to my soul, over a thousand miles from New York, in a small city where few understand my beginnings (even I rarely think anymore of my childhood years at Bais Yitzchok d’Chassidei Skver) I yearn, at times, to be able to walk into a store and order a knish—to see others ordering a knish.
Recently, I visited my family for a Chanukah gathering, after not seeing them for several years. They have families of their own now, with children—two, three, five, even seven. I took a different path, and am single still. In my mind I hear Leonard Cohen, earnest and raspy with pain and age, singing, “Dance me to the children who are asking to be born; dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn…,” and I look down at my feet or across the room and see my German Shepherd, and shudder. I’ve raised not my own children, but those of wolves. The window for me to produce human progeny is still open, but it’s closing fast. And still freedom calls.
And in my melancholy moments, questioning some of my choices and wondering where all the time went, I hear the echoes of that long ago voice that, because we toil but briefly and in the shadow of ultimate existential futility, irrespective of our aims and choices, speaks in some measure to us all. That half-mad voice that can never be stilled, through the days and the nights cries over and again: “Zah nisht kan naar,” “Zah nisht kan naar,” Zah nisht kan naaaaar!”
75 Responses
The site counted 85 responses; 75 survive in the archived copies.
Marry me
)
swiss
Michael, how exciting to wake up to an essay with your byline. I was *not* disappointed, and that’s an understatement. Beautiful, beautiful piece.
The lesson for those on the fence is quite clear. The grass aint greener, and in fact, is decidely browner, on the other side.
lefk: You should never ever make such blanket statements.
Well done Michael.
I can’t help but continue wishing I had the balls to tear myself away from yeshiva when I had the chance. Away from its prison like enclosure, it’s monotony, it’s rebels, it’s rabbeim who just give you dirty looks when you don’t shvitz hard enough on a toisfos.
Now its too late and I am left to feed off others.What a fucking waste.
Swiss: How sweet! I’m definitely available– though autonomous loner that I am, I’m not easy to pin down. The first step is to find someone to “redd” the shidduch.
Laura: Thanks for your kind words, and I’m glad you weren’t disappointed. To riff on a theme from our ancient tradition, “There is a time for hiding and for pulling over oneself the cloak, and a time for casting the cloak aside and turning one’s face to the full glare of sun and crowd.”
Lefk writes: “The lesson for those on the fence is quite clear. The grass aint greener, and in fact, is decidely browner, on the other side.”
Lefk, the lesson one takes from my piece is largely determined by the reader. If you find the lesson “quite clear” in favor of staying frum, that speaks to your feeling of certitude on the benefits or correctness of religious life–not to the reality of whether religious life is either truthful or (in any universal sense) more beneficial.
I intentionally included in the piece nuance and balance, which are mandatory for a mature view of such a major lifestyle choice as leaving one’s community and belief system behind. It’s quite normal for an honest and emotionally aware person to miss some aspects of his youth, and to remember such things with longing, and to periodcially wonder what would have developed had he taken a different course.
But if I had the chance to go back in time and stay within the frum community–I wouldn’t even consider it. Authenticity and intellectual honesty on such a grand scale are not, for me, negotiable.
As for grass and fences, the existentially mature will notice that the piece ends by reminding us indirectly that whichever side of the fence we choose, the grass inevitably turns brown. But this, in my view, is no reason to remain imprisoned by fences; to the contrary, the spring turns to summer, and summer to fall–and winter comes. For someone like me “the lesson…is quite clear.” Do not refrain from jumping the fence and wandering through the fields in search of greener, sweeter grasses…and firmer ground on which to build sturdier houses, in expansive meadows and hills with healthier air and clearer sun.
I don’t say that my choices are right for everyone, or my sensibilities resonant for all. But let us not be so simplistic as to paper over complexity with a self-satisfied, self-serving comment such as, “The lesson is quite clear…the grass ain’t greener…”
Because we toil but briefly and in the shadow of ultimate existential futility, irrespective of our aims and choices… your post speaks in some measure to us all.
Profoundly moving, poignant, and piercingly honest
Chassidishebum, thank you for your personal comment. I’m sorry you find yourself feeling trapped in your situation. But please don’t kick yourself for not having left years ago; the inner equation for each of us is so complex, that we can never accurately know just how easy or difficult–perhaps impossible–it would have been for someone to take such a step at a particular point in his or her life.
Did it take a certain kind of courage for me to leave? Yes. Did I pay various prices? Yes. But you may have had more holding you there–and I may be more autonomous by temperament, and may have had, even then, a stronger need for freedom. No mortal can honestly judge another–or perhaps even oneself–on such things.
In any case, the past is truly gone. And you need not forever “feed off others.” It won’t be easy, but if you should choose to gain the means (education, skills, contacts, etc.) to be self-sufficient, you can do so. Maybe the time is not right for you now, but do not despair of achieving autonomy and greater integrity and self-respect.
I would encourage you to be compassionate with yourself, and focus on learning how to live best the years still to come. And I will try to do the same. What else can we do?
Hoezen, thank you for your generous and heartfelt words.
Michael, this was wonderful. Do you have anything published anywhere? I’d love to read more.
One more thing, I think you’d make the perfect therapist for footsteppers. Do you have a personal email address, or other way to reach you? What would I not give to get professional advice from someone like yourself!
Thank you Michael.
In my case I fought against the will of my parents to go to and remain in yeshiva as they weren’t all ‘frum’. I thought I could exercise being frum and free in yeshiva but was wrong. Nearly all the other guys in yeshiva were from opposite backgrounds and yeshiva was a great way for them to bum around. They made mincemeat out of me and I was very unhappy. As the old saying goes; ‘If you can’t beat em join em’.
Everyone has gotta make their own decisions based on their own experiences. But as one who was in Lakewood the same time as you – you simply did not look hard enough. Sure some of what you describe is true. But With massive libraries full of interesting Seforim and major Talmidei Chachamim of every style, and people into very varied types of learning – you could have had a much more meaningful experience had you tried harder.
Yitzi – I really don’t think it’s fair to tell someone who was obviously lonely and depressed that he should have “tried harder.” It simply wasn’t the place for him.
As a side point – I very much respect your decision to care about your sisters shiduchim. Far to manu people go OTD without any concern for their innocent siblings who may still love them very much. You can’t live your life for others, but its no Mitzvah to smoke or drive on Shabbos in your old neighborhood.
Sarah – I agree – no complaints on him – like I said everyone has to judge by their experiences. I just wanted to point out that his experience is by no means an objective evaluation of the place.
Yitzi, I agree that many people find Lakewood a satisfying place to learn. That’s true of any large institution. I imagine, too, that somewhere among the thousand or more talmidei chachamim there may have been a few whose derech halimud would have been more along the lines of what I was looking for.
I also think it’s true, however, that the mainstream frum/charedi learning style represented by the great majority of Lakewood and other yeshivas (and I’ve been involved with quite a few) stresses far more the assimilation and learning of existing m’forshim than they do the fresh encounter with the text or material under discussion.
And, by the way, that’s not a fault limited to Lakewood, to frum yeshivas, or the frum community overall. Institutions grow Orthodox, self-protective, and calcified over the years. Movements founded by mavericks turn into hierarchical, rigid, and defensive organizations that within a generation or two of the maverick’s passing have no patience or tolerance for mavericks. It’s been said by many–and accurately so–that Jesus, had he walked the earth again, would have been laughed out of the Catholic church for the nearly two thousand years of its existence. Rebels, visionaries, even independent thinkers, are great for stimulating new movements, but are seen as threats or annoyances to movements already established.
Indeed, the problem goes far beyond religion; it infects secular academia, too. I believe it was Walter Kaufmann who pointed out that though entire departments of philosophy study the general works of Spinoza or Schopenhauer or other classic philosophers, any student or scholar who today would dare to sit down and write a similarly general book on philosophy–without limiting himself to a tiny sliver of a tiny philosophical problem and without placing his contribution within the already established framework of the field–would fail their course, or be laughed out of the university.
Those who find enough social satisfaction in school, or those who want to be told how to study–generally because their minds are more structured and have little interest in getting too creative or original–will find such directive and trammeled approaches satisfying. Those like me, by contrast, find such approaches stifling.
And, while this piece I wrote was obviously a narrative of one fragment of one person’s experience, and again, I agree that many are satisfied within systems such as Lakewood, when it turns out that not only the predominant method of learning, but the premises undergirding the entire frum worldview don’t hold up, in my estimation, to authenticity and intellectual honesty–why I do indeed think that Lakewood and other yeshivas like it (and seminaries and schools of other religions, too) deserve to be roundly criticized–again, not because I was unhappy at Lakewood, but because it’s an intellectually limiting program discouraging individuality, and further because its Orthodox religious philosophy of life is based on intellectually dishonest premises.
FraudulentSelf, thank you for the ringing endorsement and for your questions about my work, literary and therapeutic.
I’ve recently published a book titled “The Sage and the Seekers” (and it’s available at Amazon.com). As for an email address, simply go to the book’s website, http://www.SageAndSeekers.com, and there’s a convenient email link from there.
And, yes, I have for many years, now, conducted phone sessions with people from out of state. If that’s of interest to you, feel free to email me with any follow-up questions.
Best wishes to you.
Thank you very much Dear [Dr. Rabbi] Michael,
I join the chorus of your well deserved accolades and esteem; for this enlightening writ, as well as your rich comments on previous postings on this blog. Also, I hungrily devoured all I’ve found by seeking online, beginning with the link http://www.sageandseekers.com you so graciously shared with us.
Likewise, I second FraudulentSelf’s ‘one more thing’. I believe you’re very unique life experiences can be extremely helpful practically to those of us currently going through, each in our own way, issues that you seem to have dealt with more than resilience.
It would be wonderfull to know if/when your travels bring you round oue ghetto in the near future…
Well, ya’beat to it:) thanks again!
Quasi, I appreciate your positive words and strong interest. And now I realize that you’d gathered the book’s website address on your own, and not from my posting of it on this thread. Otherwise you looked into it very quickly! (given the small time difference between my last comment and yours).
As for me doing traveling in the very near future, I have no immediate plans–but for the future, who knows?
Michael – much of what you wrote may be true with regard to Religious practice – but you are way off base when it comes to learning. In learning chidush is encouraged. The bigger the chidush, the bigger the lamdan, the more you were respected. B’kius is NOT respected – not even as much as it should be. In fact I had the exact opposite experience – if any critique can be given it is that some people tried to say chidushim that were to far removed from what say the Tur or Bais Yosef would say.
Those who were ba’aley Halacha who mastered the canonized material were not respected – a mechadesh was.
Who is respected in Lakewood – Rav Ovadya Yosef type or Rav Chaim Soloveitchik type?
All this is well known. And I was in Lakewod the same time as you – your memories are to personal to reflect reality or you confuse practice of religion with its study.
That being said – your more general point I couldn’t agree more. The Ba’al Shem Tov wouldn’t be allowed by any Chasidishe Rebbe – ecxept maybe Breslov.
But again – with learning you are simply wrong. Rav Baruch Ber and Rav Chaim would be warmly welcomed in any Litvisher Yeshiva.
Bravo, Michael, Bravo. Heartfelt story, beautifully expressed.
Speaking of intellectual dishonesty, your connotation that Lakewood Yeshiva is basically a bunch of gamblers and dimwits; could not be further from the truth, and you know it! Aside from the blatant dishonesty, it’s an obvious generalization and a narrow-minded one at that. Lakewood Yeshiva is/was home to some of the brightest (and dumbest) learned jewish men in the world. The notion that one bochur in a yeshiva of many, came to a realization that he was the only free thinker that gets IT, is……. interesting.
Your argument, that being you can’t convince others of keeping kosher and therefore cannot convince yourself, is lacking. Would it ever dawn on you to make the same claim regarding anything else in your life that’s taken for granted as fact?
Have you ever thought of the possibility that for whatever reason you were drawn to the desires of the “free world” (understandably so) and all these claims are nothing more than meager attempts at rationalization?
Well, I guess if I’m right, I just undermined the entire existence of this blog.
Hatzlacha
Yitzi,
I think we’re talking past each other. I wasn’t referring to Chidush vs. B’kius. Both of those can be done within a scripted, inauthentic academic culture. Of course “Rav Baruch Ber and Rav Chaim would be warmly welcomed in any Litvisher yeshiva.” They are the quintessential masters of complex innovation (chiddush/pilpul-giants) which in my book is better than the mere regurgitators of masters, but is far from what I was seeking. There’s a great deal of difference between lamdanus in the style of Brisk, and a straightforward, independent-minded encounter with the text.
It’s the difference between the grand and clever systems (often expressed in needlessly opaque terms and newly-coined nomenclature) of Kant or Hegel on the one hand–whom many departments of philosophy and professors and students of philosophy study hard to comprehend and emulate in all the unnecessarily complicated nomenclature and verbiage–and, on the other hand, the plain-spoken, unpretentious, free of jargon, searching after answers to life’s searing questions…an exercise generally foreign to academia.
In one yeshiva I attended (the anonymity of which I’ll protect for the moment) out of the 3 roshei yeshiva, one was a Brisker, and a second one–my rebbe–was a maverick, looking at the mishna, the gemara, Rashi, and being medakdek on the precise wording used…which often led to startling questions and beautiful answers. But the Brisker rosh yeshiva had a very different approach. When my rebbe, the medakdek, would go over to him to share his observations on the strange wording of the mishna, for example, he would be met with relative indifference. He would then press his point and ask, “If the mishna is saying what you think it’s saying, and you were writing the Mishna, would you word it that way? No? Then don’t you think the Tanna was at least as smart as you? Why did he say it in such a strange way?” And the Brisker rosh yeshiva, absorbed in far more pilpul-like considerations would shrug his shoulders, wag his head back and forth and say, “That’s what it means.”
It was at the same time sad and amusing to see how frustrated they both were by each other’s sensibilities…and there was often physical pushing and shoving between them in their efforts to get through to each other. My rebbe, toward the end of such discussions, would often get a disgusted look on his face and occasionally say, “Oib yenner p’shat is gutt far dir, is ess takke gut far dir.”
Yitzi, there is clever and complex–and there is authentic simplicity. The biggest stars of academia in most any setting, whether Lakewood or Harvard, tend to be oriented to the former. Intellectual feats–not emotionally aware intellectual honesty and meaning–is what the professorial rationals enjoy pursuing and what they most respect in others. It’s not the academics but the visionaries and poets–or the lyrical prophets in days of old–who called plaintively for people-centered values and mercy, and other warm-blooded things.
If we went back and forth for a while longer on this topic, it may be that we’d both see clearly that we’re talking about two very different ideals in learning. But we’ve probably both spent enough energy attempting to convey our point of view. I understand that you think I’m mistaken and unaware of the high-quality, innovative learning that was (and is) practiced at Lakewood. And I would ask you to understand that it isn’t that type of learning that I was looking for then, or to which I could ever see myself being drawn.
A final application: The same briliant iluy who comes up with original chiddushim that wow the roshei yeshiva, and may sport an IQ of 180, doesn’t ask himself with painful honesty why he believes that learning in yeshiva is God’s will…or, indeed, why he can be responsibly confident that he knows God’s will, or that there is a God to have a will. Nor do the roshei yeshiva apparently ask themselves such questions with any great honesty. The same channeling of brilliance into “safe” areas of thinking comes out in their learning. Lamdanus and chiddush, brilliance and innovation, have no necessary relationship to existential integriy and intellectual honesty. And if you don’t see where such latter things are lacking at Lakewood, there isn’t much more that I can say to persuade you.
In my narrative piece my aim was not to express a precise critique of Lakewood, but now that you’ve stimulated me to elaborate, perhaps I’ve explained a bit better what I didn’t find there. Yitzi, feel free to have the last word on this matter.
Yeshivaman,
A “mayseh She’Hoyoh” is just that. I spoke of my room-mates as they were. If you read the piece carefully, I also spoke of my chavrusah expressing his understanding of a K’tzois–in a Beis Medrash so full of learning that I could barely hear him. No connotation was intended that “Lakewood Yeshiva is basically a bunch of gamblers and dimwits,” and I’m happy to clarify that misperception.
You also write: “The notion that one bochur in a yeshiva of many, came to a realization that he was the only free thinker that gets IT, is……. interesting.”
Yeshivaman, have you considered the irony that the entire frum worldview is based on the notion that one small group of Jews, within the Jewish people, who are themselves a tiny group in a huge world, has a realization about God and His will and revelation, and somehow know better than the rest of the world why the story of His revelation to them is true, but other stories of later revelations are rediculously false, and that they’re the only ones who get IT?
More to the point of my narrative, you seem to be making another huge leap of inference. Nowhere do I say that I’m the only person in Lakewood who found it unsatisfying, or even who went off the derech based on philsophical considerations. Many have. And not only from Lakewood but from Brisk and Slobodka and Mir and every other yeshiva, over the past many generations. That most members of any group stay within their group is neither a chiddush nor an indication that their group’s beliefs and practices are intellectually honest or in other ways appropriate. For most, it’s far more painful to leave than to stay. So painful, in fact, that most never even let themselves realize there’s any reason to think about leaving.
You write: “Your argument, that being you can’t convince others of keeping kosher and therefore cannot convince yourself, is lacking.”
Yeshivaman, please understand the distinction between a comprehensive set of philosophical arguments and a narrative describing a brief thought. If it interests you, I’ve written a book of 600 pages on my intellectual reasons for leaving religion. (In the unlikely event you want to acquaint yourself with such arguments, the title of the book is mentioned in my brief bio on this site.) The piece you’ve commented on was a description of one brief moment that stimulated much further thought. A short story cannot be a philosphical tome. Indeed, in the piece itself I never imply that my inability to convince another told me that religion was wrong. I explicitly say that “Several years of agonizing followed before I definitively concluded that I could no longer believe.”
If you insist on ripping out of context what I wrote, or simply don’t bother reading it carefully, it’s hard to take your challenges seriously.
You write: “Have you ever thought of the possibility that for whatever reason you were drawn to the desires of the “free world” (understandably so) and all these claims are nothing more than meager attempts at rationalization?”
Yeshivaman, you apparently do not see that your argument can be applied at least as strongly against your own position. Like so: “Have you ever thought of the possiblity that for whatever reason you are drawn to maintain the love and friendship and respect of family, friends, and community, and that you are terrified of questioning whether the most important element of your existential foundation is mistaken, and that all the years you spent learning and depriving yourself of various opportunities and secular education, etc., might have been wasted time…and that all your flippant accusations that those who go off the derecth are only chasing their taivos…are nothing more than meager attempts at rationalization?
Yeshivaman, you get the last word, and I won’t respond. Let the readers of this comment section decide for themselves which line of argument they deem to be fair, honest, and emotionally and intellectually mature.
Wonderful piece. Really enjoyed it.
I think you would have enjoyed the Chazon ish/Slabodka derech halimud. They almost do not even look at acharonim, and everything is taken straight out of the gemara, and rishonim. They stress very much exactly the points that you make here, about looking at the gemara with a fresh look, without any prior ideas.
Also, as others have mentioned already, your description of the Lakewood yeshiva has no basis whatsoever in reality, sorry.
But overall, I feel that you are intellectually honest, and I like your outlook and philosophy. That makes me wonder all the more how you got that impression of BMG. I know that are not lying intentionally, but you definitely have it wrong. Is it possible that your roommates and chavrusas happenned to be a bunch of lowlives and dimwits, respectively?
Kafhakela, I appreciate your comments.
Because you are not the first to infer that I thought Lakewood was/is a place without high-quality learning, I must assume that part of the problem is that I was not sufficiently clear in communicating just what I found unsatisfying there about the predominant mode and culture of Lakewood learning. And the fact that we both use terms such as “take a fresh look at the Gemara” does not mean we’re getting at the same thing.
Bear in mind, too, that the narrative was not intended as an objectively argued critique of any derech ha’limud. It was a story. And it certainly doesn’t make any systematic arguments against the set of darchei ha’limud one might find at Lakewood. Yes, a few comments are offered about my frustrations in that department, but again only in the context of a personal story focusing more on emotion and the grand sweep of events. Neither literature nor individual experience should be mistaken for a systematic attempt at educational philosophy.
I could have been more clear in my comments about Lakewood, but I do think you go a little far when writing, “…your description of the Lakewood yeshiva has no basis whatsoever in reality, sorry.”
You may be justified in claiming that some of my experiences at Lakewood were not representative of its mainstream, or that some of my impressions of it were overly negative. But it’s simply untrue to say that my description “has no basis whatsoever in reality.” That kind of all-or-nothing formulation is almost always inaccurate, as it is here. The simple facts are that my roommates did what I said they did (and nowhere did I claim that this was the norm in Lakewood); the simple facts are that in the Lakewood beis medrash where I met for seder with the chavrusa I mentioned in the piece…the noise level was very high–far higher than any other yeshiva I’ve been to or experienced–and I truly could barely hear myself or him unless we were shouting. The facts also are that of the many people I attempted to interact with there on matters of learning, I did not find any who shared my sensibilities on derech ha’limud. They may have been there, but I didn’t meet them.
(And, K, if you didn’t quite mean to come off quite as categorical as the words you used, please give me the benefit of the doubt that if I came off as categorical about Lakewood, that wasn’t my intent, either.)
If I were to attempt a systematic critique of Lakewood it would, indeed, include my values-based objections to the predominant cluster of darchei ha’limud, but it would go far beyond that to ideals and practices and culture…which to me are all parts of the inextricable weave that constitutes the Lakewood experience, and the frum/Charedi world overall.
Again, in the piece I wrote, however, I was merely reporting in narrative form on my personal experiences, wich included a discomfort with a certain learning approach and culture…and I was not making the argument that it was objectively wrong or bad–indeed, I was not attempting to make any argument on the matter of Lakewood. I was telling my story.
I have no doubt that much creative learning goes on at Lakewood, just as I have no doubt that much creative work goes on in academic settings all over the world–the great majority of which would leave my mind bored and my heart cold.
Had I realized that my comments on Lakewood learning, in the piece, were going to meet with such scrutiny and elicit such protest, I would have done a better job at being more precise on the causes of my dissatisfaction with it, and/or would have explicitly clarified that I was not meaning to convey that Lakewood had no creative or innovative learning or learners. I will try to learn from that for the future. (See? I am capable of learning from Lakewood b’nei Toira!)
Upon reflection, it’s likely that what I objected to in Lakewood was present to some degree in other yeshivos I attended, but that I needed to experience it in greater intensity (and volume and quantity) at Lakewood before I recoiled from it. Those who have found yeshiva culture and values comfortable will likely be unable to relate to my visceral flight from Lakewood and what, to me, it represents.
But, to be clear, though for me and my needs and values Lakewood was painfully dissonant, I recognize that many people have found Lakewood a satisfying and stimulating place of learning. In my opinion, those of specific temperaments, and with certain mixes of values and interests and social connections, can find it a very enjoyable and educational experience. I did not fall into that group.
Thanks again, K., for engaging and commenting on my piece.
Can someone translate “Zah nisht kan naar” for me?
Micheal, wonderful story and wonderful writing. (And I’m glad you put Yeshivaman in his place)
“Have you ever thought of the possiblity that for whatever reason you are drawn to maintain the love and friendship and respect of family, friends, and community, and that you are terrified of questioning whether the most important element of your existential foundation is mistaken, and that all the years you spent learning and depriving yourself of various opportunities and secular education, etc., might have been wasted time…and that all your flippant accusations that those who go off the derecth are only chasing their taivos…are nothing more than meager attempts at rationalization?”
Were Avraham Avinu and Moshe Rabbeinu also “… drawn to maintain the love and friendship and respect of family, friends, and community….”
Or how about The Chazon Ish and The Brisker Rav? Or R’ Joseph B Solovetchik for that matter?
On the other hand, I can make my argument for EVERY SINGLE person that went OTD.
Baal Habos
“(And I’m glad you put Yeshivaman in his place)”
While that may be your personal opinion, I asssure you that for me it could not be further from the truth. Quite to the contrary, in fact.
“Were Avraham Avinu and Moshe Rabbeinu also “… drawn to maintain the love and friendship and respect of family, friends, and community….” Or how about The Chazon Ish and The Brisker Rav? Or R’ Joseph B Solovetchik for that matter? “
Yeshivaman,
You failed to mention Jesus Christ, the Dalai Lama, Albert Einstein, Mother Teresa, Ludwig Wittgenstein and Benjamin Franklin.
You are only familiar with the big minds and saintly personalities of your own confined and constricted ethnocentric bubble.
Getting out of Yeshiva and expanding your weltanschauung, might do you some good.
Michael, there is no point in being up so late depriving youself from sleep, to answer these people, first of all they are a bunch of hypocrits, don’t they know better than to come here and read an athiest blog? They think that they are immuned to outside world view and it won’t affect them, but they will eventualy trip and fall as it’s clearly stated “col boeho lo yeshivin”, second, they make it sound as the problem is derech halimud? You gotta be kidding! I always enjoyed learning and still learn the daf every day, that doesn’t eliminate the fact that the talmud is based on primitive perception and filled with non-sense throughout.
As a real example of an unpious in the closet, I can say undenyably, I do not have any chance of fulfilling my heart’s desires, but still find no way to believe in what my father thought me in my youth, so the chutzpah that these hypocrits have in claiming that the only reason to question them is because of someones restricted desires, makes me nauseas. Let alone the fact that most religious people do what their heart desires anyway. In my experience most of it is just a show, none of the regular everyday Joe type of folk is truly religous e.g. DVD’s, internet, cell phones, theft, cheating, mishkav zochor etc., so please go back to hydepark or vos iz naies and leave us alone thanks.
Yeshivaman, your Rab Elchonon Wasserman style issue about people going OTD to satisfy their desire for freedom has been discussed thousands of times in forums such as these, so much so that many of us are sick of it already. If you have something new to add, please do so.
He certainly did put you in your place. You just don’t know it.
Very interesting story, Michael. I have traveled in the opposite direction. I came from a secular background (I was in graduate school) and went to a baal teshuva yeshiva in Israel after I became convinced in graduate school that the Torah is true and from G-d. I was agnostic before I started learning Torah. I wrote the following, which explains how I became convinced: http://www.chidusheibetzalel.blogspot.com. I don’t understand how anyone born frum can reject the Kuzari argument.
At the same time, after being religious for 13 years, I can understand why someone who grows up religious would choose to go of the derech. Now that the novelty of Torah for me has worn off, I see that there is a great temptation to cast off the yoke of Torah and be “free”, and I would assume that this temptation is especially present if one has never been “free”. Who wants to follow rules that one doesn’t understand? Not only this, but who wants to follow rabbinic ordinances (from human beings, not G-d) that were made thousands of years ago? Nevertheless, I believe with all my heart and brain the Torah is from G-d; hence, I cannot honestly stop doing mitzvos. And I can’t complain either. I am much better off now than before I learned Torah and this is all due to my learning Torah. But I am still tempted to stop and live a secular life again. G-d forbid I should act this way.
I also understand what you were saying about those people who learn Torah but never question whether it is true or not. To me, knowing in one’s heart that it is true is a prerequisite for actually doing it. I could never do mitzvos if I didn’t know in my heart that it is the right way.
It was very difficult for me to find frum people to talk with who could convince me that the Torah is from G-d or even explain why they believe what they believe. I had to do research in the library and on the internet (in 1997, which didn’t have much information about Torah, only a few websites which were primitive by today’s standards).
Michael, could you summarize your intellectual reasons for not believing the Torah?
I think that the main difference between yeshiva learning and the study of philosophers is where they begin their questions. Philosophers begin without any preconceived notions, at least they try to. They look purely at the world around them and then try to understand it. In yeshiva and seminary, it is taken as fact that there is a God, that he gave us the Torah and the oral Torah. Whenever they discuss chumash or gemara there is an unspoken, “Given that everything in the Torah is true . . .” If you start to question that belief you will be told that this is not the place for you. It is hard for frum people to remember that there are other people who do not take these things as fact, who need to question and think about everything. If I complained about any of the learning in Seminary, I was told that I wasn’t the smartest girl in the school. There were smarter girls than me who thought the learning was fine, so obviously the problem was with me. Yeah . . . good times.
Yeshivaman, it is very easy for you to say that you know all “off the derech” people were following their tayvas. Everyone desires things that are forbidden by the Torah. Just as you claim that you fight those desires because you believe in the Torah (and I will take you at your word) others claim that they do not follow the Torah because they don’t believe in it, not because they just want to eat traif (and I will take them at their word) You have no right to tell other people why they do things.
Farchapt, I did not realize this was an atheist blog. Should I go away because I am not an atheist? I do not think that people should come to this website simply to argue with or insult it’s writers, but I do think that it is an open site for people to come and read about other people’s experiences and beliefs and perhaps share their own. I like to know what other people think, even if (or especially if) it is different than what I think.
Unilingual,
“Zah nisht kan naar” translates to “Don’t be a fool.”
My apologies for the lack of footnotes with translations. If this were not written for a (chassidim on the fringe) audience that generally is bilingual/trilingual, I would have included such footnotes.
Sarah very well put, as for your comment I’m sorry that it came out that way, I don’t think this blog is for athiests by athiests, neither am I if I were I wouldn’t even take the time discussing it, the reason for writing it was meant for the people who come here trying to convince us and they DO believe we’re athiests.
Betzalel, I can’t believe I took the time reading your blog, but since you consider yourself educated I gave you the benifit of the doubt, I would want to answer you word for word but I don’t have the time nor the will. So much I would like to ask you, was the fact that the sun goes under a curtain at night and comes back out in the morning also given by god? Or the fact that it goes undefneath us and warms the waters of tveryeh? What about the idea that the sun is a planet? Is there any mathemetical proof that the sun orbits the earth? I can go on and on for why I believe it’s all non-sense, but I don’t have the time for such so I will leave it at that.
P.s. not that anyone will ever become convinced and changed their mind from our babling, but I didn’t want you to have the satisfaction thinking that you have so called PROOF.
Baal Habos, it’s good to “see you around” again. And thanks for joining the discussion.
I find it tricky when encountering primitive arguments (such as that the only reason people go OTD is because of taivos) to decide when to ignore them and when to respond. The one who makes the argument is unlikely to be influenced by reason, but no matter how often these arguments and their responses have been kicked around, some who read the give-and-take might not yet have been exposed to them. Most of the time, therefore, especially if someone directly addresses me in a public forum I provide at least some response.
HT
“You failed to mention Jesus Christ, the Dalai Lama, Albert Einstein, Mother Teresa, Ludwig Wittgenstein and Benjamin Franklin.
You are only familiar with the big minds and saintly personalities of your own confined and constricted ethnocentric bubble.
Getting out of Yeshiva and expanding your weltanschauung, might do you some good”
What shaychus!?
You completely missed my point.
Getting back to Yeshiva might help you in your
הבנה
Now to borrow the authors מהלך, I’ll give you all the last word.
Dr. Posner, hatzlacha to you.
Kol Tuv
Farchapt, I know it wasn’t really directed at me, I just sort of bristled at it. And I pretty much agree with you. I understand their temptation to try and convince you, they think they are right. I don’t think they realize how patronizing they sound or how ridiculous it is to go to a blog about people who are off the derech and then try and convince them they’re wrong. They mean well . . . mostly.
Farchapt Innetz said: “Betzalel, I can’t believe I took the time reading your blog”
Sorry to waste your time.
“So much I would like to ask you, was the fact that the sun goes under a curtain at night and comes back out in the morning also given by god? Or the fact that it goes undefneath us and warms the waters of tveryeh? What about the idea that the sun is a planet? Is there any mathemetical proof that the sun orbits the earth?”
Yes, the sun goes under a curtain at night and comes back out in the morning is true. The statement that the sun goes underneath us is true. It also warms the waters of tveryah when it is underneath us. (I am in America, so it is true for me.)
The sun is a planet, since it goes around the earth. You don’t need mathematical proof that the sun orbits the earth. Just go outside and watch it do this. If we lived on the sun, we would say that the earth orbits the sun. But we don’t live on the sun, so it is correct for us to say that the sun orbits the earth.
Betzalel,
Thank you for sharing your story, and for your gentle tone. You seem like a good and kind person.
I appreciate you providing a link to your blog post on the Kuzari argument and one of its variations.
Because my piece at this site is a narrative, and not a philosophical work, I will refrain from here going into details about my reasons for leaving Judaism and religion, overall.
I should add that I did look through your post on the Kuzari argument variation and I did not see addressed some of the major–and to me compelling–arguments against it. And such arguments are posted in numerous places online, and have been kicked around in skeptic blogs and forums for many, many years now. It happens, too, that I’ve written several pages in my book directly addressing the Kuzari argument…with, I think, a novel point or two.
Again, I admire your earnestness and gentleness, but a comment thread on a narrative piece really isn’t a place I think wise to wade into a detailed philosophical debate.
May we all shoulder as much truth as we can bear.
Michael:
Very interesting article. Poignant.
You intrigue me.
You respond to each and every comment, and in great detail. You care deeply enough to want to discuss this issue in depth. I’m not exactly sure what that indicates, but it certainly says something………;-)
You have a dog, and a big one at that. Very un-heimish.
You live out in the country, far out in the sticks, also very un-heimish.
You seem to have been gone for a good while………
You come accross as having loads of humility and “eidelkeit”.
Yet you are still interested enough to have happend upon thi swebsite to debate something long gone, and one would assume, well and truly burried.
Interesting also how you hide your Jewishness on your website. “Raised on the East Coast in a strictly religious family”……
I am puzzled how one goes from a “nice Yiddish family” to a single guy with a only big dog for company. I’m also puzzled that you seem to be considering the dog as replacement for kids, and family. Never mind all the reasons for having a family, but even just taking the selfish viewpoin, the dog aint going to take care of you when you are old and infirm.
(What a megilla! or in other words , a ramble without a specific point…….)
Considering all the above, I would guess, that for OTD’s, you with your doggie are somewhat unique.
Michael, and I’m glad you did. It has been discussed often and you’re right, never has never been with great affect. But I think it’s important that the believers don’t think they’ve got some sort of ace up their sleeves that will sheepishly turn us into believers. Though, I admit that this argument made me question my own doubts until I finally met-up with like minded doubters. What is needed is a definitive grand reply to that issue of “Lo Uvdo Avoda Zara…”, some masterpiece along the lines of Zeligman’s Letter to My rabbi.
(Yeshivaman, if you’re curious you can check these two posts – http://baalhabos.blogspot.com/search?q=uvdo
It’s too bad those Blogger comments are not viewable.
Betzalel, with your second post you just showed how ignorant you are, I’m starting to doubt if your claimed biography is true, what person in the world still believes that the sun orbits the earth? Even in the most constricted chasidic circles it’s already ok to believe common era perception, sorry to tell you but you come off as someone who just popped out from yeshivah and is still wandering like a hatchling not knowing what’s flying.
“Again, I admire your earnestness and gentleness, but a comment thread on a narrative piece really isn’t a place I think wise to wade into a detailed philosophical debate.”
“I did not see addressed some of the major–and to me compelling–arguments against it.”
Believe me, I’m not trying to debate you and I agree that it’s usually a bad idea to do such on this kind of a forum. I am trying to understand your point of view. Can you or someone else direct me to some places on the web which discuss compelling arguments against the Kuzari argument, which my article doesn’t address?
Farchapt and Sarah, I appreciate you wading into the discussion. On matters of religion, most mean well even when they come across as patronizing, ignorant, and incredibly self-referenced. I try to be patient with such people so long as they aren’t rude.
If it helps any, consider that I get the same well-meaning and ignorant patronizing treatment from fundamentalist Christians here in heartland. It’s a mixture of touching and maddening when people pray for you and bless you in the name of Jesus, and pity you for not knowing the Lord. Heck, there’s such a nice lady collecting money on the street for her church, that after months of her smiling and blessing me on my way to work, yesterday I finally gave her a dollar–for her good attitude.
Frummer,
You make some good straightforward observations. And I agree that I’m unusual, but I think that this holds true whether I’m compared to OTDs or people, overall. (Not that it’s all that unusual to be unusual in one way or another.)
If you’re puzzled by me, I guess life in many of its forms and manifestations can be puzzling.
And, of course, if you consider unusual a bad thing, and if you are truly a “frummer,” look at yourself in the mirror, and then at your daily frum practices, and compare these to the more than 99% of the world that is not frum, and behold–you are very unusual.
As for me, I think some kinds of unusual are admirable, some kinds are unhealthy even despicable, and many kinds of unusual are neither good nor bad–they just are.
Farchapt Innetz said, “Betzalel, with your second post you just showed how ignorant you are, I’m starting to doubt if your claimed biography is true, what person in the world still believes that the sun orbits the earth?”
Let’s stop the name-calling, OK.
Your point would have some validity had it been made before the 20th century. But now, your point is completely invalid, scientifically speaking – Einstein’s Theory of General Relativity, which almost all scientists accept is based upon the premise that there are no absolute frames of reference (in contrast to what people thought before Einstein). So I can say the sun revolves around the earth. I can also say the earth revolves around the sun. Both statements are right, scientifically speaking.
Betzalel,
A simple Google search immediately delivers the following web page, which provides links to many articles debunking the Kuzari proof, including writings which deal with Rabbi Gottleib’s attempted defense thereof.
http://kiruvawarenessnetwork.blogspot.com/2007/12/links-to-kuzari-posts.html
I hope you find something of value in those articles, but because this is not the place for philosophical debate, I won’t add anything further to this issue.
I wish you the best.
Michael
Nice response, but not the one I was hoping for. In fact the opposite occured. Desppite you penning a seemingly detailed response, you actually clammed up!
“and compare these to the more than 99% of the world that is not frum, and behold–you are very unusual.”
Indeed I am, but I am happy to be so, because I am happy with my acceptance that I am doing the right thing. It took a while, and there used to be a question mark after my name, but I got back on track in the end. My being different to the rest of the world population doesn’t reduce my belief in my relegion at all.
As well as being different to people, I am also different to monkeys and there are probably more of them than people, yet I am certainly not going to become a monkey. (And no. I am not saying that all non Jews are monkeys. Well, OK then. Only in the context of my point!)
Michael said: “I hope you find something of value in those articles, but because this is not the place for philosophical debate, I won’t add anything further to this issue.”
Excellent, thank you.
Betzalel, you can start here http://larrytanner.blogspot.com/2010/04/kuzari-principle-ultimate-proof-of-gods.html
for what looks to be promising.
This one is simple and elegant -http://groups.google.com/group/soc.culture.jewish/msg/d94826c6e2485b5c?dmode=source&pli=1
Editing note: Some early comments (especially by Yitzi and Kafhakela) pointed out with justification that my experiences at Lakewood were not representative of what most experienced there, most of the time–and that my story therefore reflected an inaccurate picture of Lakewood and the type of people and learning to be found there.
Because it wasn’t my intention to convey an inaccurate impression of Lakewood–but rather to tell my story–I’ve taken their protests seriously, and edited the piece slightly. No words were removed, but several sentences of elaboration and clarification were added. The result is, I think, more precise and fair.
I thank them for their critiques, and I thank Hassidic Rebel, the kind and patient editor/manager of this site, for agreeing to post the changes. They should be visible within a few hours.
Frummer,
You seem like a friendly person, and I’m happy to answer a question from you…if you’d like to formulate one.
To say that I’m unique is an observation, but I’m not sure where it gets us. The homeless man on the corner is unique, but so were Einstein, Shakespeare, Beethoven, and the Vilna Gaon.
And to say that I’ve “clammed up” is rank psychoanalyzing from a distance. If you have a question or a point, simply state it, and I’ll try to address it so long as it isn’t inappropriately intrusive or asking us to go into extended philosophical matters.
If you simply wanted to say that I seem unique to you, and you don’t have a further question or point, that’s okay too. I wish you well.
Betzalel, I wanna apolgize for the way I responded I try very hard to discontinue socializing the way I was brought up, (to which I must admit, is quite the contrary on your end seeing how gentle you responded), somtimes I still slip when I get pissed off on people who consider me/us so stupid that they can make such lame arguments and expect us to take it torah misinai. Now to the point, as I said before no one is gonna change anyone’s belief just by babbling on a blog, on either side, so what’s the point in arguing? you make some interesting mathemetical calculation, I did like the algebraic part of it, as I like a good math chalange, but the context does not amuse me, I have studied way more books and sforim than what would fit on a blog post, and I still do, I have no personal gain in affirming my belief since I still do everything that a chasidic Jew does, but this blog is a place for people like myself, who want to discuss isuues they can’t talk at home or in shul.
Again I do admire your personality, you don’t sound like the typical chareidy, and I hope it will stay that way even if you are now indulged in such surroundings.
Farchapt Innetz said: “Betzalel, I wanna apolgize for the way I responded I try very hard to discontinue socializing the way I was brought up, (to which I must admit, is quite the contrary on your end seeing how gentle you responded), somtimes I still slip when I get pissed off on people who consider me/us so stupid that they can make such lame arguments and expect us to take it torah misinai.”
No problem.
“Again I do admire your personality, you don’t sound like the typical chareidy, and I hope it will stay that way even if you are now indulged in such surroundings.”
Even though I am on the derech, I see myself as having more in common with people who were born frum and went off the derech than people who were born frum and still on the derech or people who were born fry and still off the derech. I think if I were born frum, I would have probably gone off the derech. I guess I just have a rebellious personality.
Michael – what you correctly describe in the comments is a far cry from what you describe in the original. In the original you describe mediocrity (at best) – in the comments you acknowledge the possibility of brilliance but not of the style you want.
I actually figured you would respond as you did. And that is totally legit – you find Yeshiva style learning, even at its best, unsatisfying. I value your experience – but I feel accuracy is of utmost importance, especially when their is insinuation of fault. In this case, your expectations were unrealistic. Its like complaining that Biblical criticism isn’t addressed in a Yeshiva Parsha class. There is no way any intelligent bachur would go to Lakewood expecting what you were looking for. You want that you go to Halivni. Its like complaing Lakewood didn’t focus enough on Navi. Duh! You were looking for love in all the wrong places. If that’s all you wanted to portray – and you do a good job of it in the comments – then fine. But accuracy is key in all these descriptions.
All this being said – if you would hang out in BMG in the right places – even this you could have found. Some very famous blogs (bein dam lidam and ishim) come straight from Lakewood. I know I found it.
And that goes with those who debate deeply what is ratzon Hashem. Sure the mainstream I what you describe (n the comments not the article) but you – as with so many others – gave up far to soon.
Yitzi, I continue to appreciate your comments and intelligent challenges. A few thoughts:
1. I’m not sure if you noticed my comment posted today at 12:54 p.m., which explains that in the effort to be more precise, and fair to Lakewood, I added a few sentences to the story. If you see the slightly revised version (which is currently posted), though I assume you still won’t love it, I think you’ll find it improved on the matter you protested about.
2. I again want to underline that–although both essential accuracy and impressions conveyed are important, and for these reasons I have added some sentences of clarification to the piece—this is a narrative, a story, a set of artistically rendered subjective and individual experiences, not an attempt at objectively analyzing or defining Lakewood, its derech ha’limud, or its students or alumni in any general sense. Individuals have different experiences of the same place, and writers of memoir and narrative aim to share their experience, not to provide a well-rounded, objectively accurate sense of every element of their story. If I were to speak fondly of the NYC of my childhood, and then say that I was mugged on a recent trip there, one might protest that the NYC crime statistics of recent years are much better than those from the days of my childhood, and that I’m being unfair and unrealistic about NYC. Actually, had I been mugged and had I written about it, it would simply have been my story of what happened to me—and anyone reading it as an objective analysis of NYC crime rates is, to riff on something someone recently told me, “looking for analysis in all the wrong places.”
3. That’s why the comment section, where there’s more time and room to get into detailed discussions and relatively objective analysis of things is the more appropriate place to explore analysis—if one were so inclined—than in a story. Look at the stories in our own tradition: There’s a reason there’s plenty of room for commentary—indeed, plenty of need for commentary. Stories don’t attempt to provide a comprehensive vision let alone a comprehensive analysis, but rather to bring alive one angle or perspective on an event or series of events. And to speak only of representative events would leave out the most interesting, exciting, and inspiring stories of every tradition. It wasn’t every day that worlds were created, that angels visited Avrohom, that Yosef’s brothers sold him into slavery, or that Korach rebelled against Moshe. All of these are misrepresentations of the great bulk of normal life for these people. And the story does not claim otherwise—but it does not bother with trying too hard to provide scrupulously objective context. (Indeed, my revisions to be extra careful and accurate on the matter of Lakewood probably detracts from the flow and intensity of the story.)
4. You’re clearly right that my expectations of Lakewood were off the mark. That goes without saying; had I known what I was getting into I would not likely have found it unbearable. But it isn’t like I had a brochure explaining to me just what to expect there, of derech ha’limud and other matters. And once I realized it wasn’t for me, I changed yeshivas. Again, it’s a story of my personal experience; it’s not a manifesto about education. If you find classical music boring or maddening, and it gives you migraine headaches, you’re entitled to write a story about that. If, on the other hand, you write an analysis or research paper purporting to make objective claims about all classical music, then of course debate and universal accuracy become more relevant.
5. It shouldn’t be a surprise that one who either enjoys yeshivishe learning or is comfortable living in the yeshivishe/frum world or believes that its foundational tenets are true—or all three—will have little in common with my perspective, and will think I didn’t give Lakewood, or the frum world, overall, enough of a chance. From my viewpoint, however—not enjoying yeshivishe learning, not being comfortable in the yeshivishe/frum world, and, most important, not believing its tenets truthful—I look back and see that I gave it far too much of a chance, and lost many good years and opportunities that I’ll never get back.
I wish you the best.
Michael, I appreciate your acknowledging that your article might have given a wrong impression of BMG. It is that intellectual honesty that I seek, and I am glad that there are enough people here striving for that, to have a decent conversation.
I have been following your posts on other articles, and on this one, and I believe that you have a beautiful mind aand soul, and who was it above that offered to marry you? I would second that… had I been a female…
Farchaptinnetz; ” I try very hard to discontinue socializing the way I was brought up”
I don’t think it is fair to blame your rude reply on your “upbringing”, there are rude people and the opposite in every culture. I don’t think that arguing in a childish manner, with personal insults and name calling is only found among the Orthodox, just go online on any blog and you’ll find the same thing. You only have yourself to blame, and it is only you who can change that, and I am happy to see that you have acknowledged the fact that you make an effort to argue like a mature adult.
On a side note, you say you do everything a chasid does. I am just wondering what you do about davening? Do you really daven 3 times daily, or do you just stand there shaking and mumbling so it looks like you’re davening? Or, do you perhaps find clever ways to skip davening without anyone noticing? Are there any other aspects of living a double life that you find to be harder to accomplish? I would like to hear about that, and others can also jump into this conversation. We should start a group to help each other out to come with schemes to make our lives easier in this regard…
Thanks for the translation. I loved this piece, and went back to reread it.
I imagine that 99% of the people who come to this site had an orthodox upbringing, but a few of us are conservative, reform, secular or whatever and don’t know yiddish. I don’t think you have to be or have been OJ to appreciate the wonderful literature that appears here as it speaks to the struggles inherent in the human condition and not just the struggles of being raised orthodox in a secular (western) world.
Unilingual,
Thanks for your kind words. And I agree with you that people of various backgrounds and cultures can enjoy each other’s literature, and share many similar challenges and struggles.
I do have a footnoted version of this story, which translates nearly every non-English term it uses. If you’d like, I’d be happy to email you a copy. The simplest way to get through to me is to go to http://www.SageandSeekers.com and to use the “contact” button (and email form) from there.
Thanks again, and my compliments on your open-spirited literary orientation.
Kafhakela writes:
“I believe that you have a beautiful mind and soul, and who was it above that offered to marry you? I would second that… had I been a female…”
Kafhakela, how does one respond to such a heartfelt and generous compliment? I will simply say thank you. And I respect you for valuing intellectual honesty; it’s one of my deepest values, too.
I’ll add that if Swiss (the author of the first comment on this thread) is truly female and truly single, I’d be happy to hear from her. Never having communicated with each other, it’s a little soon to marry, but exchanging a few emails might be a good start.
Khafkeleh, I don’t know where you grew up but in my background we used to debate talmud that way, “die beheimah die farshteist nisht vos de ktzos zugt, bist doch azah tipesh” etc., and so on and so forth we don’t mean it in a bad way it’s just culture.
For your question, they walk between us, just look around, most chasidic otd’s in the closet lead a normal life, davening I even chazunetz with a bren by a hartzige shtikel, nothing wrong with acting people do it for a living.
Kafhakela, if we form such a blog, what will it be called? Farchapt in Kafhakela?
Farchapt in netz;
What makes you say out the words when you stand shmonei esrei, instead of just doing the easy thing and just mumble a bit, shaking your lips? Why would you take the effort of going through the davening? I can understnd doing it once in while for the sake of acting, but 3 times daily?! Why in the world would you want say the entire pesukei dezimra when it is meaningless?
Actually Michael I AM happy with your clarification & editing of the original post.
My last point was that even what you were looking for you may have been able to find.
This guy is in lakewood shteiging away:
http://bdl.freehostia.com/
He doesn’t give his name but it is known he is learning in Lakewood. And he gave himself away to those in the know when he refernced an article he wrote in a Lakewood Yeshiva journal.
Other famous fascinating & original blogs are coming from lakewood as well.
A lakewood guy:
http://bdl.freehostia.com
Well known that the above guy is from Lakewood and he gave himself away by a comment where he referenced an article he wrote in a Lakewood Yeshiva journal. But don’t worry I am not giving him away. it would take hours to find the reference and I’m prob the only guy who read it that acrually recognized the name of the journal and has it.
I point it out to show how “out of the box” a guy shteiging in Lakewood can be.
But Michael – I very much DO like your update of the article – thanx for your post and all your comments.
Kafhakela, I had the same question myself, I realized it’s just easier that way, i know the words by heart anyway, I’m not comfortable babbling, it’s much easier to actualy say the words.
you have to understand one more thing, I’m very much comfortable in my current way of life, this is how I grew up, and how I will probably die, I just need to have freedom of thought, I don’t ask much from life, just being able to support myself and family, and being able to explore my mind, if I have my internet connection and my library I don’t need much more.
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Michael – you are also correct that your editing slightly takes away from the flow and intensity of the story. I actually feel bad for being partially responsible for that.
But it is precisely because art is so personal and powerful that its accuracy is important. That is exactly the critique of religion – it offers passion and inspiration based on a falsehood.
But I do think you over compensated. All you had to add were the words “what for me” without the delineated portion that starts “and even”.