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Reimagining Judaism after COVID-19
Will Jewish life undergo a metamorphosis the day after the pandemic?
Education
The astronomical cost of private Jewish education, particularly in the Diaspora, has been a frequent topic of discussion among parents, educators, communal leaders and philanthropists. Many innovative solutions have been proposed with varying degrees of success.
Philanthropic efforts have increased substantially over the years, but this might been more difficult in the postCOVID-19 economic era. The problem is real and has put much economic strain on young couples – and even grandparents who feel obligated to help while worrying about their own financial resources for a long retirement and its associated healthcare costs.
I have even heard of committed couples having to forego a yeshiva education for their children, which certainly impacts on their future choice of professions and potential domestic harmony.
Perhaps the lessons we have learned during the pandemic can point a way out of this quagmire. Can more yeshiva education be done online, thus decreasing the need for physical space and its associated costs? I envision a scenario in which master teachers can record lectures for hundreds of students, thus freeing up time for in-person teachers to give more personal attention to each student.
Can’t secular subjects take advantage of all the resources available on the Internet to teach music, art and even enrichment classes and some special services that many students require? Many students already use this model on their own, and many Jewish organizations and educational institutions are already pooling their resources and expertise in these areas.
In the medical profession, to which I belong, we rely on data and evidence to make life-and-death decisions. In education, too, studies are needed to ascertain whether these new kinds of education lead to the desired outcome of well-adjusted, committed and knowledgeable Orthodox Jews. We can also learn from other groups such as Chabad, which has had much experience with on-line education.
Cost-effective education does not have to be inferior, and it can reach from the simplest to the most advanced levels. This model might be appropriate for Jewish university education. Of course, there are social issues involved in this model and they also need to be addressed.
Community life
The second-most common topic among committed Jewish families is the astronomical cost of weddings and bar and bat mitzvahs, which in some ways are a reflection of the consumer-driven culture to which we in the Jewish community have also become captive. The cost of having these extravagant affairs has put more strain on many families.
It is unconscionable that financial considerations are part of the equation in choosing whether or not to live a committed Jewish life. Initiatives to decrease the costs of events and limit the number of celebrants have been developed, but they have been mostly unsuccessful in the Modern-Orthodox community.
Life during the COVID pandemic has shown us that we can celebrate our smahot, joyous occasions, with fewer people and less extravagance, and still celebrate these important life-cycle events. We should not lose this opportunity. As the government has limited our affairs to 50 or 200 people, we as a community should continue to do so in the post-COVID world.
This will make the smahot one goes to more meaningful and lessen the burden of living an Jewish life. And believe me, no one will miss another smorgasbord (maybe we will all be healthier, too).
In my community (and many others in Israel) street minyanim (prayer quorums) have proliferated. People stand outside their homes or in their gardens, and if there are 10 men present (there are various guidelines in Jewish law regarding specific conditions), they form a minyan for davening, (praying), for Torah reading and for saying Kaddish, the mourner’s prayer.
In many of these minyanim, families sit together outside their homes and daven together. They follow the opinion in Halacha, Jewish law, that since they are not in a synagogue, a mehitza, a physical barrier between the sexes, is not required. Some of these groups resemble the Havurah minyanim in private homes that were popular in the 1970s.
When Israel first lifted corona-related restrictions, some of which have since been reimposed, many of these street minyanim were reluctant to stop functioning. Synagogues have to provide congregants with reasons to come back. Synagogue-centered adult education might not be a sufficient reason for many, as congregants can now listen to world-class scholars, from their homes, on the Internet.
This might be a bigger problem in the non-Orthodox community, where so much of Jewish life is centered on the synagogue. These communities have to find ways to energize their congregants to live a committed and ful
If synagogue life has suffered, the value of community has not lessened
filling Jewish life without the benefit of a unifying physical space. There is an opportunity to engage with the youth, as they are much more comfortable than their parents’ generation when it comes to this mode of interaction.
If synagogue life has suffered, the value of community has not lessened. For example, people have recognized the importance of mourning rituals, such as the seven-day period of sitting shiva. They are starving for personal interactions and support during these difficult times.
The community has also been a beacon of strength and support for many people, including the homebound elderly, and has helped organize and focus the altruistic motives of many young people through various volunteer initiatives.
Family
While many families have struggled and suffered through these many months of quarantine, others have been reinvigorated because of the experience. Instead of adults and children spending time outside of the house, they have been forced to spend quality time together.
We already discussed the challenges to education as a result of COVID-19, however, we must remember that the primary educational responsibility for transmission of our faith falls upon the parents, not the schools.
Too often, families transfer this obligation to the yeshiva, forgetting that the primary responsibility is on them. For many families, this time spent together has been an opportunity for parents to retake their roles as primary transmitters of Jewish learning and traditions.
Likewise, one must not forget that the primary responsible to care for our elderly parents lies with the children and not with the caregivers, to the point that there is an extensive discussion in Jewish law about whether one is even allowed to deputize this care.
With parents living longer, the known dangers of being in a long-term care facility, and the unknown long-term availability of foreign caregivers, more of the responsibility for the care of elderly parents will likely fall on their children.
The pandemic has also accelerated the process by which the social life of adolescents and young adults takes place over the Internet. This has obvious ramifications for the functioning of Jewish social and youth groups, Jewish singles’ life and dating.
Authority
COVID-19 has had a complex impact on the relationship of the laity with the rabbinical leadership. With the advent of modern technology, laypeople can approach “super rabbis” virtually with their halachic questions, bypassing their local rabbis. That has also increased to a great extent during the current crisis.
The pandemic seems to have accelerated the process to a point where the local rabbi is no longer the final decisor but is subject to the authority of a halachic expert who is not part of the community. Rabbis who recognized their limitations were quickly accepted as moral, spiritual and halachic authorities.
The lesson that needs to be learned from the crisis is that rabbis are halachic, moral and spiritual experts but not medical, economic or political experts.
The belief in “da’at Torah” – the idea that rabbis have special wisdom in non-halachic or “non-spiritual” matters – failed during the crisis and did not serve their communities well.
The pace of the modern world and the rapid transfer of information makes it impossible for rabbis to be experts in areas outside of Torah. It is crucial for the future of rabbinic leadership that this lesson is taken to heart.
But the crisis also offers an opportunity for rabbis to lead their communities, not only through educational and intellectual initiatives, but also by increasing personal interactions and ensuring the social welfare of their communities in these difficult times.
Israel-Diaspora relationship
It is obvious to all observers that there is a dichotomy in the relationships of the Orthodox vs. the non-Orthodox to the State of Israel. Many in the non-Orthodox world, and particularly the young people, have grown distant from Zionism and Israel. The reasons for this distancing have been much discussed and are not the subject of this essay.
But for all denominations, visits to Israel are crucial to maintaining a relationship. From summer programs, Birthright, gap-year programs, missions and family trips, these experiences strengthen the relationship and are crucial. If travel to Israel is limited for the near future, perhaps more efforts can be made to forge virtual relationships between Israeli and American youths either through schools or youth groups.
In addition, while clearly not a direct result of the limited social interactions during the crisis, but perhaps exacerbated by it, there is the recent intensification of the cultural wars in America. This might make support for Israel a litmus test for certain political affiliations, supplanting the traditional American bipartisan support.
This can also exacerbate the distancing of the non-Orthodox from Israel, and be disastrous for the idea and belief in the unity of the Jewish people. New initiatives to strengthen the Israel-Diaspora relationship, based on our common heritage and values, are desperately needed.
Theology
A new Jewish theology is waiting to be developed and debated. I don’t mean that we should try to find reasons and people to blame for the pandemic. Rav Soloveitchik has taught us that this is a useless endeavor, as man cannot even pretend to know or understand God’s actions. But for those of us brought up on a theology that extols man’s desire and ability to control the natural world, the pandemic has taught us humility and the limits of human power and achievement.
I am afraid that the pandemic might be the harbinger of new global diseases that threaten humankind. In addition, the looming climate catastrophe that threatens our planet might bring more social distress and economic uncertainty to a world already struggling with inequality and conflict between the haves and have-nots.
The 20th-century technological and scientific revolution that was supposed to bring prosperity to the world seems to have bypassed many of the world’s citizens. In order to stay relevant, a new Jewish theology has to be developed that recognizes the precariousness of our natural resources, balances man’s quest for innovation with the limits of its power, and advocates for equality and justice.
As Rav Soloveitchik taught, a true Jewish theology has to be anchored in the Halacha, and many of these ideals find expression in the Torah and mitzvot.
Conclusions
Jewish life has been hit from different directions by the cataclysmic effect of COVID-19. But it also offers opportunities to renew Jewish life and practice in this age of globalization and social media. Individuals and organizations that take advantage of these new realities can renew and energize a committed and socially conscious Judaism. Nothing less than the future and unity of the Jewish people are at stake.
Igrew up hearing my father singing the songs from Fiddler on the Roof with such gusto; so on the occasion of his 22nd yartzeit, I was in New York (last year, when we could still travel) and went to see Fiddler – in Yiddish! I was a bit worried about the Yiddish, but was pleasantly surprised to see that while the English subtitles were a huge help, I have a large vocabulary of Yiddish words and sayings. Wow, what a show! It was like my childhood came to life. Seeing Tevye as the dedicated family and community man was very nostalgic for me. My dad was so much like Tevye.
This time I watched with different eyes, more mature, not little “Mammela” anymore, but a grown woman with grownup children. The story is actually quite tragic and has deeper meaning and ramifications for how we continue our rich Jewish tradition and religion. One of the highlights is the opening song of “Tradition.” I can see in my mind’s eye how my father would shake his forefinger, singing, “Tradition... Tradition!” any time a situation arose that veered off the path a bit. When the song was sung in the show it got me thinking deeper as to how exactly we have survived as the Jewish people. What is the secret? It is said that Napoleon, upon seeing the Jews crying about the destruction of their temples on Tisha Be’av, exclaimed, “A nation that can mourn for so long the loss of its land and temple will return one day to see it rebuilt.” How is it possible that we have survived for thousands of years in spite of every imaginable persecution? No matter where we have been exiled to, we have clung to the continuation of our past through the rich culture and nuances of our tradition. Furthermore, Tevye demonstrates a connection with God as a way to maintain tradition. Throughout the show he is always quoting “The Good Book” and is constantly in dialogue with God. He explains that God’s laws keep the lives of the people in balance, and if they didn’t have their traditions, their lives would be “as shaky as a fiddler on the roof.” This deepened my understanding of how we have survived; it is through commitment to our heritage. When we were threatened with death and annihilation, we chose to enmesh ourselves in our laws.
Two important traditions that have ensured our survival are that of marriage and Shabbat. Enter Yenta, the dedicated matchmaker, a feisty nagging old lady who never lets up! I feel there is a piece of her in each of us as it doesn’t matter what our religious level is, we have a strong pull to set people up, almost as if it is part of our DNA. Judaism’s deeper idea behind marriage is not just physical love and commitment, but the spiritual union of two souls. The traditional aspects of the ceremony which have been performed for thousands of years weaves something from past generations into this new couple and they, in turn, form a link with the past for future generations.
Watching the play, I felt sad to see that as each of Tevye’s daughters married, this concept became more and more diluted. The first marriage was one of love and spiritual commitment, the second of love and common national ideas, and the third of love but a rejection of her religion and faith altogether.
This felt tragic as I watched it unfold. It is not just a play, it is what is happening all around us today as well. And what of the generation that marries out? How can we keep our tradition alive when we are faced with so many leaving?
Growing up, I remember my father constantly warning us children about the importance of marrying Jews and continuing the tradition. Back in the early ‘90’s, after five years of dating, Ian and I got engaged. What a celebration! “To life. To life. L’Chaim!” I remember as we excitedly made the wedding plans, my dad was literally like Tevye, and each time I discussed costs, he would jump to his feet and burst into song, “If I were a rich man, daidle-deedle-daidle-deedle-daidle-deedle-daidle-dum.” He would have loved the Yiddish version of “Ven Ikh Bin a Rothschild.” It was at this stage of the performance that I turned to the empty seat next to me and “asked” my dad, “Are you enjoying the show?” When I got married I realized the importance of marrying a Jew, but only now do I see how fundamentally crucial it is that marrying Jewish is the only way to ensure the continuation of the tradition. It is this same message that I pass on to my four daughters, because I see myself as a link in the tradition, and if the chain ends with me, then that will be tragic.
“Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset.” This song brought a flood of tears to me as I recalled dancing with my dad to this song at my own wedding. “Is this the little girl I carried? Is this the little boy at play? I don’t remember growing older, When did they?” It dawned on me that weddings are a bittersweet time where parents hand over their precious children into the hands of their soulmate. I remember the joy and blessings I felt as my dad and I danced, the privilege I experienced of having this wonderful person as my father, role model and faithful cheerleader. I didn’t even consider any sadness that he might be feeling with his “mamella” leaving home. As I watched Fiddler now, more mature, I thought about all the years of loss and absence I have felt since my dad died. Had I only known as I danced with my dad that night that there wouldn’t be many more sunrises or sunsets for him. The lesson I take from this is to be fully in each moment experiencing them and “live deep and suck out all the marrow of life,” as Henry David Thoreau said.
Thankfully our religion offers us a magnificent way to be fully present without distraction, and that is the gift of Shabbat. Ahad Ha’am, the poet and philosopher, said, “More than Jews have kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jews.” For me, it is a two-way relationship. I stop and take a break at creating and do
ing in my world for Shabbat, and as I do this, Shabbat nurtures me. Shabbat is a sacred time, to take a break from the physical and material world where we do, do, do, and to encounter the spiritual. It’s a time to be, a time where we disconnect in order to really connect with those around us and our Creator. It’s a humbling time where we realize that the world continues to exist perfectly without our input.
Growing up we were lucky to have “dinner time” each night when the family assembled to eat. There was even dessert during the week! Supper lasted half an hour, if that, but on Shabbat there were guests, cousins, delicious delicacies and special foods which we would never eat during the week. Friday night was made special by blessings from my father, home-baked challot, tinned asparagus (which we were allowed to eat with our fingers because the Queen of England eats hers with fingers), roasted turkey, chopped liver, hand-painted chocolate leaves, doughnuts and singing! And it went on for hours. Nobody was off rushing anywhere and there were general knowledge questions being asked, and lots of “How was your week?” As the characters were running around the stage preparing for Shabbat, it brought me right back to my childhood Shabbatot.
Today, I love that on Shabbat everyone dresses up, no phones come to the table, and I, too, continue the traditions I grew up with (even the asparagus. I still can’t bring myself to eat them during the week). I think my dad would have loved Shabbat meals in my home. It frames my life as it is looked forward to and planned for from Tuesday, and after it finishes, it leaves me replenished to enter the new week. So, Shabbat is this great gift, a great tradition that we have to reconnect, recharge and replenish; in fact, it is probably a gift that the whole world would benefit from. Ironically, being in ‘lockdown’ during this COVID-19 pandemic time, surrounded by my daughters and husband all the time has felt nurturing, like a taste of Shabbat everyday of the week.
WHILE TRADITION for Tevye is something rooted in the ancient past, for me it includes the passing down of traditions I live by which are also strong themes in Fiddler. I resonated deeply with the songs “Miracle of Miracles” and “Now I have Everything.” Their themes have had a large impact on me as foundations with which I live my life, and I am hopeful that I am passing these attitudes on to my children; like my own tradition. “Miracle of miracles” is about seeing miracles in our lives. Albert Einstein once said, “There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” When we recognize miracles, it brings us to a place of gratitude as to just how much we have been abundantly gifted. The other song, “Now I have Everything,” is also impactful in my attitude. What is “everything”? It’s a perception, a perspective about appreciation, an attitude in life. Can we thank God for the millions of individual blessings we have been given? Do we ever consider a perfectly functioning liver or hearing? What about the people in our lives? Do we tell them on an ordinary Tuesday how our lives are richer because they are in it? Or are we still waiting for more? We say in the morning blessings, “Bless are You, King of the universe, Who has provided me with everything that I need.” We don’t say “Who WILL provide me.” We say “provided,” in past tense. Everything we need, we already have. These attitudes are something else that Coronavirus has highlighted for us. What are the essentials in my life?
As the show drew to a tragic end, following the pogrom and expulsion of all the Jews from Anatevka, I had a heavy heart as I saw the repetition of our history: Babylon, Rome, Spain, Poland... and more. Frantically, they all prepare to go in their own directions, families being torn apart and the rich shtetl life abandoned. The heart-breaking performance ends with a glimmer of hope where Yenta the matchmaker announces that she is going to the Land of Israel, finally ending her status as the “wandering Jew.” Similar to Yenta, at this stage of my life, I feel privileged to have made aliyah and am now living in Israel with my precious family. My father would have been so proud! As Tevye’s family leaves Anatevka, a fiddler plays and follows them off the stage. What will be in the future? I hope I am passing on the legacy of my father and ancestors to my children who will, in turn, continue to do so for the next generation.