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FEATURES

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TRIBUTE

Reflections on the Life and Legacy of Joe Lieberman—On the Occasion of His First Yahrtzeit

By Rabbi Menachem Genack

JEWISH LIFE

The Making of a Mezuzah: New efforts are being made to raise oversight of the mezuzah industry. Why?

By Rachel Schwartzberg

EDUCATION

Taking Back our Schools—and Childhood: How Day Schools are Doubling Down on Student Cell Phone Use

By Barbara Bensoussan

COVER STORY

Leaving the Fold: The OU’s new study provides insights into attrition

Why Study Attrition?

By Dr. Moshe Krakowski

Parenting on Different Pages

By Merri Ukraincik

When School and Family Don’t Match

By S. Schreiber

ISRAEL

OU Israel Inaugurates New Headquarters

Cover Design: Bacio Design & Marketing, Inc.

DEPARTMENTS

LETTERS

By Naomi Ross 2 8 16 76 78 81 88

FROM THE DESK OF RABBI MOSHE HAUER

How Will We Face Our Father?

MENSCH MANAGEMENT

Change of Pace, Change at Pace: Managing Gradual Transformation

By Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph

JUST BETWEEN US

It’s Okay to Eat by Yourself: Advice from a Widower By Efraim Jaffe

KOSHERKOPY

Kosher Conundrums: More answers to year-round and Pesach kashrus questions you never thought to ask

LEGAL-EASE

What’s the Truth about . . . a Dairy Meal on Shavuot?

By Rabbi Dr. Ari Z. Zivotofsky

THE CHEF’S TABLE

Erev Pesach: Whoever is hungry, let them come eat!

COMING SOON FROM OU PRESS

Megillat Ruth Mesorat HaRav— Wintman Family Edition

With commentary on Megillat Ruth and the Torah Readings of Shavuot. Based on the teachings of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, compiled and edited by Reuven Mohl.

BOOKS

Torah in a Connected World: A Halakhic Perspective on Communication Technology and Social Media By Rabbi Jonathan Ziring

Reviewed by Rabbi Steven Gotlib

Kosher ADHD: Surviving and Thriving in the Torah-Observant World By Simcha Chesner, PhD, and Sara Markowitz, PhD

Reviewed by Olivia Friedman

Rakafot Aharon: Timeless Halakhah and Contemporary History (4 vols.) By Rabbi Aaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff

Reviewed by Rabbi Ron Yitzchok Eisenman

REVIEWS IN BRIEF

By Rabbi Gil Student

LASTING IMPRESSIONS

Frozen Parking Lot

By Rabbi Ilan D. Feldman

THE MAGAZINE OF THE ORTHODOX UNION jewishaction.com

Editor in Chief Nechama Carmel carmeln@ou.org

Associate Editor Sarah Weiner

Assistant Editor Sara Olson

Associate Digital Editor Rachelly Eisenberger

Literary Editor Emeritus Matis Greenblatt

Rabbinic Advisor

Book Editor

Rabbi Yitzchak Breitowitz

Rabbi Gil Student

Contributing

Book Editor

Editors

Rabbi Eliyahu Krakowski

Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein • Dr. Judith Bleich

Rabbi Emanuel Feldman • Rabbi Hillel Goldberg

A TRAGIC RIFT

As an Israeli Religious Zionist, I very much appreciated Rabbi Moshe Hauer’s praise of the mesirut nefesh of our soldiers in the fall issue of Jewish Action (“Lema’an Achai V’Rei’ai: Pursuing Unity”). However, this praise was undermined by Rabbi Hauer’s statement earlier in the same article that “genuine respect is due to the approaches of others faithful to Orthodox halachah and mesorah.” In a by-gone era, such a statement would be unremarkable and even laudable. But since October 7 everything has changed. The implication of Rabbi Hauer’s statement in the context of his article is that we must also respect those who call on their followers to refuse to serve in the IDF. That is a deeply insensitive and unfair demand to make of those of us among his readership who belong to a community that has sent so many of its children to fight, and in too many cases, to be injured or killed, in the nation’s service.

Contributing Editors

Rabbi Sol Roth • Rabbi Jacob J. Schacter

Rabbi Berel Wein

Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein • Moishe Bane • Dr. Judith Bleich

Rabbi Emanuel Feldman • Rabbi Dr. Hillel Goldberg • David Olivestone

Editorial Committee

Rabbi Sol Roth • Rabbi Jacob J. Schacter • Rabbi Gil Student

Rabbi Dovid Bashevkin • Rabbi Binyamin Ehrenkranz

Rabbi Berel Wein

Rabbi Avrohom Gordimer • David Olivestone

Gerald M. Schreck • Rabbi Gil Student

Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb

Editorial Committee

Moishe Bane • Rabbi Dovid Bashevkin • Rabbi Yaakov Glasser

Design 14Minds

David Olivestone • Gerald M. Schreck • Dr. Rosalyn Sherman

Rebbetzin Dr. Adina Shmidman • Rabbi Gil Student

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Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb

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Copy Editor Hindy Mandel

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ORTHODOX UNION

Design Bacio Design & Marketing

President Mark (Moishe) Bane

Advertising Sales

It should be clear, this is not about whether serious, full-time yeshivah students should be exempted from the draft. Neither is it about legitimate concerns regarding the religious challenges of serving in the IDF. The mainstream rabbinic leadership of the Israeli Chareidi community has adamantly refused to agree to anyone from their community being drafted, regardless of whether they are learning at all. These rabbis have rejected army service under any conditions, attacking in the most extreme terms those Chareidim who are working with the army to create frameworks that are conducive to Chareidi needs.

Chairman of the Board Howard Tzvi Friedman

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Vice Chairman of the Board Mordecai D. Katz

ORTHODOX UNION

President Mitchel R. Aeder

Chairman, Board of Governors Henry I. Rothman

Vice Chairman, Board of Governors Gerald M. Schreck

Chairman of the Board Yehuda Neuberger

Executive Vice President/Chief Professional Officer Allen I. Fagin

Vice Chairman of the Board Barbara Lehmann Siegel

Chief Institutional Advancement Officer

Arnold Gerson

Chairman, Board of Governors Avi Katz

Senior Managing Director Rabbi Steven Weil

Vice Chairman, Board of Governors Emanuel Adler

Executive Vice President, Emeritus Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb

Executive Vice President

Chief Financial Officer/Chief Administrative Officer

Rabbi Moshe Hauer

Shlomo Schwartz

Executive Vice President & Chief Operating Officer

Chief Human Resources Officer

Rabbi Hauer sees this dispute as an ideological one, in which each side needs to relinquish its quest for “victory” for the greater good of the Jewish people. But this is a matter of life and death. We cannot relinquish our objective of victory against those who would destroy the Jewish people. There is a very severe shortage of combat soldiers in Israel. All students in Hesder yeshivot have had their mandatory service extended for up to six months. Many fathers and husbands have done hundreds of days of reserve duty in the past year, some over 300 (!) days, while their wives struggle to keep their families together. The crushing emotional burden of worrying about loved ones at the front and mourning the many friends, children of friends and children’s friends whom we have lost is overwhelming. We cannot go on like this. The days in which we believed that we could get by with a “small and smart” army are gone. We desperately need more soldiers. This is not a dispute about which we can say both sides represent “the words of the living G-d.” Our soldiers need and deserve the complete backing of the entire Jewish people.

Rabbi Josh Joseph, Ed.D.

Rabbi Lenny Bessler

Chief Information Officer

Executive Vice President, Emeritus

Samuel Davidovics

Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb

Chief Innovation Officer

Jewish Action Committee

Rabbi Dave Felsenthal

Dr. Rosalyn Sherman, Chair

Director of Marketing and Communications

Gerald M. Schreck, Co-Chair

Gary Magder

Joel M. Schreiber, Chairman Emeritus

Jewish Action Committee Gerald M. Schreck, Chairman

We have reached a pivotal moment in Jewish history when, as Rabbi Hauer wrote, we are called to “put our divisions aside and . . . rush to the aid of . . . Jews anywhere who . . . are in distress.” But there are those who refuse to recognize the demands of the hour. They choose to continue to follow their strategy separating themselves out from the rest of Klal Yisrael while others fight and die on their behalf. The national unity that Rabbi Hauer seeks cannot be achieved until these concerns are acknowledged and addressed by the Chareidi community and its leadership in both Israel and America.

Joel M. Schreiber, Chairman Emeritus

40 Rector Street, 4th Floor, New York, NY 10006

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Moshe Simon-Shoshan

Professor Shoshan teaches Midrash and Aggadah at Bar-Ilan University. His son, who is currently studying for semichah at a Hesder yeshivah, served in combat in Gaza for eight months following the attacks of October 7 and has already served more than five months beyond his regular obligations. His studies will continue to be interrupted by extensive reserve duty for the foreseeable future.

Training future rabbis goes beyond the beis midrash—it’s about sharing inspiration and forming lasting relationships.

Rabbi Aryeh Lebowitz

Abraham Arbesfeld Torah Dean RIETS

By advancing our academic excellence and providing a values-based education, Yeshiva University is preparing the next generation of leaders for both personal and professional success poised to transform their communities and the world around them.

RABBI MOSHE HAUER RESPONDS

I would like to thank Professor Simon-Shoshan for expressing his view on my article and for our subsequent correspondence and conversation. He has helped me gain a deeper understanding of and sensitivity to the current attitude of the Religious Zionist community towards the Chareidi draft, especially in light of the crushing burdens and enormous losses that have been borne by its soldiers and their families during the current conflict. I certainly regret any implication of an expectation that those who have sacrificed so much must respect those who disrespect and fail to appreciate their enormous sacrifice. My intent was solely to acknowledge the same divergent opinions on the core issues of principle and practice that he too acknowledged.

I and others have heard privately from Chareidi leaders on all levels—including some of their leading roshei yeshivah who recognize the clear need and moral obligation for the Chareidi community to contribute meaningfully to the ranks of Tzahal in religiously conducive frameworks. Many describe working to create such frameworks for Chareidim who are not serious full-time yeshivah students, yet they are exceedingly cautious and insist that those efforts and their words could not be shared publicly in their names as that could jeopardize their efforts. The resultant lack of public communication of these values and goals and of actual progress has left a profound void that has been filled by rhetoric that represents them and their community as uncaring and ungrateful, leaving many Chareidim confused and causing growing resentment and disrespect from many in the Religious Zionist community who deeply value Torah and crave to feel kinship and connection with the Chareidi community. This growing rift between those deeply faithful to Torah is tragic, frightening and unnecessary.

MORE THAN DOORWAYS

In the last issue of Jewish Action, Rabbi Dovid Bashevkin argues that in order to reach our unaffiliated brothers and sisters post–October 7, we need to be “building better doorways for engagement” (“Jewish Identity Post–October 7,” winter 2024). I wanted to add my thoughts to this.

In my twenty-five years of outreach, I’ve seen many successful new programs introduced. The Maimonides tenweek crash course on Judaism, with a $500 stipend, created by the “father of kiruv” Rabbi Avraham Jacobovitz, was so successful that Chabad and Hillel created similar programs. Partners in Torah’s successful one-on-one learning also spawned similar programs by other organizations.

The Podcast Fellowship, where students get paid $15 to listen to a podcast and then discuss it with a mekarev/es, took off during Covid. It is our most successful program at University of Illinois (U of I), where I serve as the director of a campus outreach program. Our mekareves meets with four or five students, and they go around sharing what they’ve learned. It’s a great way to reinforce their learning.

jInternship, which sets up internships in Israel in partnership with yeshivahs and seminaries, took off when internships in the

US became popular. Birthright, Momentum, the list goes on. New programs and ideas will arise. We are a creative people.

Yet the simple truth remains that effective outreach is about quality time spent with individual students. What we really need is more people reaching out. This is what Rabbi Noach Weinberg, the legendary founder of Aish HaTorah, recognized with his “awaken the sleeping giant” idea. [The sleeping giant refers to the frum community, which has tremendous potential to reach out to unaffiliated Jews.] Olami has recently seen enormous success with its mentorship program, pairing up “regular” frum men and women with college students and young professionals as learning partners.

Just as important—we need more partnerships similar to the way NCSY and Olami are working together through Olami Launch to bring young people to Israel for their gap year. Kiruv organizations in general should be working more closely together with one another.

Just this past month, I was mesader kiddushin at the wedding of two former students of mine. The mother of the chassan had participated in the Maimonides program fifteen years ago. My wife encouraged her to send her son to Camp Nageela. We stayed in touch over the years. When her son went to U of I, he joined Jewish Education Team (JET), went on jInternship, became shomer Shabbos and met his wife-tobe (also a Camp Nageela camper) on a trip to the Washington rally. Outreach is one neshamah at a time. But no doubt, it could be exponentially increased.

Rabbi Zev Kahn Director, Jewish Education Team

(JET)

Chicago, Illinois

ONE SHUL FITS ALL?

I’m writing in response to your article “Start-Up Shul: How to Build a Welcoming Kehillah,” by Rabbi Binyamin and Avital Goldschmidt (winter 2024). When we talk about making our shuls more welcoming, we often mean creating an inviting atmosphere for observant Jews who aren’t regulars, as Rabbi and Rebbetzin Goldschmidt describe in their article. But what about non-observant Jews—a demographic that comprises the bulk of North American Jewry? For the typical non-observant Jew walking into a typical Orthodox shul on a typical Shabbos, the experience is anything but typical. Even if the congregants and leadership are (hopefully!) warm and friendly, the service can feel foreign. The Hebrew is unfamiliar, the pace is daunting, and the baseline Torah knowledge of the average congregant is beyond their reach. Sadly, for many unaffiliated Jews, an Orthodox davening is not very meaningful.

On the other hand, if we adapt our minyanim to include more English explanations, slower pacing or more congregational singing to accommodate non-observant Jews, we risk alienating the very people for whom the traditional structure of davening is so meaningful. Understandably, many in the frum world are not looking for what might seem a watered-down or altered davening experience. One size does not fit all. What to do?

I came to Yeshiva University for the unique opportunity to advance academic excellence within a Torah framework. I AM

Dr. Rebecca Cypess Mordecai D. Katz and Dr. Monique C. Katz Dean of the Undergraduate Faculty of Arts and Sciences

Orthodox shuls need to take a dual-track approach. We need to create programs, services and classes—led by highcaliber, engaging educators—that run concurrently with the traditional davening. Imagine your welcoming and friendly shul offering a class or discussion specifically designed to meet Jews with limited Torah backgrounds where they are. These programs can provide inspiration, meaningful engagement and a connection to Torah in a way that resonates with them. After the regular davening and the outreach class conclude, everyone then joins together for the kiddush—where the magic of community and social connection happens.

Sure, a warm smile and a heartfelt hello are essential first steps to making our shuls welcoming places. But if we’re serious about engaging non-observant Jews, we need realistic, inclusive approaches that meet them on their level.

Rabbi Nachum Meth

Executive Director/Rosh Kollel

Community Kollel of Greater Las Vegas Las Vegas, Nevada

MOVING A SEFER TORAH

In his discussion of relocating a Torah to a private venue (“What’s the Truth about . . . Relocating a Sefer Torah,” winter 2024), Rabbi Dr. Ari Z. Zivotofsky mentions the Beit Yosef’s and the Aruch HaShulchan’s admonitions requiring three readings to allow the practice. He cites many authorities to the effect that this ruling has no source.

When I was a child, one summer in Far Rockaway, someone asked my father, z”l, a Chassidic rabbi, to help make a minyan for Shabbat Minchah in a shivah house to enable a third Torah reading. My father refused, on the grounds that, as Rabbi Zivotofsky cites, that amounted to public mourning, forbidden on the holy day.

My father explained to me that in Galicia, shivah minyanim skipped reading the Torah, unless they could take out the scroll three times. The idea seemed to be that doing something three times evinced a form of permanence.

In fact, when we recite Hatarat Nedarim (“Nullification of Vows”) on erev Rosh Hashanah, we express regret for having observed a minhag three times without having said “bli neder—without a vow.” The three repetitions created a permanent obligation. Similarly, occupying land for three years gives the person permanent title. To bolster this rationale, I cite the ruling of Rabbi Gedaliah Anemer, z”l, of Young Israel Shomrai Emunah of Greater Washington (a student of Rav Moshe) that two readings established permanence, so he allowed removal of the Torah in those circumstances. Having an aron did not figure into this. Finally, in my recent shivah, I allowed the Torah into my house only because we had Rosh Chodesh on Sunday and Monday and a regular reading on Thursday.

Joshua Z. Rokach Silver Spring, Maryland

WHAT ABOUT THE MATZAH?

One aspect of city eruvin was unfortunately not discussed in the expansive Jewish Action eruv article, “The Eruv Revolution” by Merri Ukraincik (fall 2024). While the walls and strings are what we commonly refer to as the eruv, they are not actually what Chazal refer to as the eruv. Rather, when Chazal use the term “eruv,” they mean a box of matzah generally kept in a community shul or in the rabbi's house. In order for an eruv to be considered valid for use, a food item—generally a box of matzah—is set aside as belonging to all members of the community. That box of matzah symbolically binds the community together, making it as if all the community members are residing in one location, jointly owned by all Jewish city inhabitants and guests. Walls and strings alone without the food item would not be a valid eruv.

Rabbi Ezra Sarna Director of OU Torah & Halacha Initiatives

CORRECTION: In the winter 2024 issue, Rabbi Gil Student incorrectly wrote in his review of Dr. Moshe Miller’s Samson Raphael Hirsch’s Religious Universalism and the German-Jewish Quest for Emancipation that Rabbi Hirsch believed that the commandment to “love your fellow as yourself” applies to all of humanity, not just Jews. Rather, Rabbi Hirsch believed that “love and justice for all creatures” lies at the “heart of Judaism” even though the commandment to “love your fellow as yourself” applies specifically to Jews.

Transliterations in the magazine are based on Sephardic pronunciation, unless an author is known to use Ashkenazic pronunciation. Thus, the inconsistencies in transliterations in the magazine are due to authors’ or interviewees’ preferences.

This magazine contains divrei Torah and should therefore be disposed of respectfully by either double-wrapping prior to disposal or placing in a recycling bin.

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HOW WILL WE FACE OUR FATHER?

By Rabbi Moshe Hauer

One of OU-NCSY’s outstanding educators, Rabbi Yisrael Lashak, recently received this stunning note:

Hi Rabbi Lashak,

You don’t know who I am, but I want to share with you a story of how you changed my life.

About six and a half years ago, I was a confused ninth grader trying to figure out my life. I had just started high school but was looking into switching to a different school. I had always been serious about my religious growth, and the school I was attending at the time didn’t have the strongest learning or the most spiritually conducive environment. I was looking to switch elsewhere, but something was holding me back. I knew that if I stayed in the

school I was at, even though I wouldn’t necessarily be learning as much, I would be able to make an impact on the environment around me. I would have the opportunity to be a role model and inspire people religiously.

When I shared my dilemma with some of my mentors, many of them told me a variation of the same thing: “If you want to overflow your cup onto others, you have to make sure you fill up your cup first.” I would never be able to impact others if I didn’t first work on myself. As much as that answer made sense, it didn’t sit well with me, so I kept looking for answers.

At that time, I attended the NJ NCSY Spring Regional Shabbaton, where you were a guest speaker. I slipped into the back of a Q&A session you were running and was amazed by the thoughtfulness and wit with which you answered every question. I soon found myself raising my hand and being called on. I shared my dilemma with you and asked what your opinion was: Is it better for me to be in an environment where I can help myself or in an environment where I can help others?

I remember you pausing to think. Then you looked me in the eye and told me the following: “It definitely is important to work on yourself. The more you have in your toolbox, the more you are able to give to others. But,” you said, and I have never forgotten it, “in Parashat Vayigash, 1 Yehudah turns to Yosef and asks rhetorically, ‘Ki eich e’eleh el avi vehana’ar einenu iti—for how can I go back to my father if the na’ar, the lad, is not with me?’ I sometimes ask myself the same question. When I get to 120, how will I be able to ascend to my Father in Heaven if I don’t bring the na’ar with me? There are

so many ne’arim (youth) out there who are disconnected from their Judaism, who are so lost. I would never be able to face Hashem if I didn’t do my part in helping to bring them up to Him.”

Rabbi Lashak, I am not exaggerating when I tell you how much that answer has changed my life. Not only did I choose to stay in the school I was at, where, thank G-d, I was blessed with the opportunity to make an impact on those around me, but as the years went on, I used your answer as a guide when I made important life decisions. Now I am a college student making plans for my future. Because of you, I have decided to go into chinuch (education), to impact the ne’arim around me. Because of you, every day I try to find ways, both formally and informally, to make the world just a little more cognizant of Hakadosh Baruch Hu’s presence. Because of you, please G-d, when I eventually ascend to Heaven at 120, I won’t be doing it alone.

There is much to unpack in this powerful note, from the impact of Rabbi Lashak’s words on a young student, to the question of balancing personal growth and impact on others, to the haunting reading of the verse, “How will I ascend to my Father in Heaven without bringing along His children?!” All of it helps us focus on what is—and ought to be—our preoccupation as individuals, as an organization and as a community: identifying what we can do better to ensure that our own connection to Judaism is compelling and enduring, that we will successfully transmit it to our children and students, and that we are able to effectively introduce and welcome others to Torah and to the Orthodox community.

To help us approach these existential questions in an informed manner, the Orthodox Union undertook and recently

Rabbi Moshe Hauer is executive vice president of the Orthodox Union.

LATZA MATZA

released the results of a qualitative study on attrition and connection in the Jewish community.2 It is a very worthwhile read, and some of its critical findings are highlighted in this issue of Jewish Action. The following is intended to provide a conceptual and Torah-based framework for those findings.

1. Caring

Essential to our effective transmission of Torah, emunah (faith) and mesorah (tradition) is that the children or students clearly sense our overall concern for them and their well-being. This was the model of Avraham, whose influence began with his care for others, providing them with food and shelter,3 and heeds Hillel’s instruction4 that we act as disciples of Aharon, who loved people and (thus) brought them close to Torah. Lessons and values are always best absorbed in a caring and trusting environment; this is especially true of religious teachings that can be easily interpreted as puzzling, limiting and imposing rather than as clarifying, liberating and uplifting.

The study demonstrated in multiple ways the negative religious impact on children and students whose social and educational well-being was not prioritized by their parents and teachers. Conversely, there is an inestimable positive impact when parents and teachers show consistent care and concern, when their own choices prioritize stability in the lives of the children, and when they build resilience in their children and students by their effective response to trauma.

2. Modeling

While trauma, misalignment and serious negative interactions with parents, teachers or community are demonstrable push factors leading individuals to want to leave the fold, the strength and staying power of their bond to Orthodoxy will be built significantly on the power of the authentic connection to Judaism they observe in their parents and role models. An astute observer of human nature5 noted what he saw over time between fathers and sons in his own

community. Inevitably, the parents who paid the most attention to what their children were doing during davening and Torah study times were responding to them with a constant feedback stream, such that they spent all their time together critiquing them rather than modeling their own engagement in Torah and tefillah. Other parents displayed greater ease and confidence, bringing their child along to shul and paying far less attention to what the child was doing while there; the child would then see the parent and the other congregants engaged in their davening and learning.

One senses this same attitude in the Haggadah’s story of the sages who were engrossed in discussing Yetziat Mitzrayim (the Exodus) throughout the night of the Seder until their students came to inform them that it was time for the morning Shema. Those sages certainly conducted the Seder with their students but continued afterwards until the wee hours on their own, carried away by their interest in the subject. Rather than alienate the students, their example of passionate engagement was observed and appreciated by them.

3. Listening

Effective communication requires a clear understanding of the intended audience, the questions that are on their mind and their level of openness to what is being shared. The study demonstrates the disenchantment experienced by students who felt that their questions were not welcome and who could not fully meet the religious expectations of parents and teachers.

It is noteworthy that at the Seder, an event dedicated to sharing our past with our future by transmission of the mesorah, we encourage and even stimulate the children’s questions, as we recognize that teaching children what we think is important without being aware of and responsive to what is on their minds will be ineffective. In a broader sense, when considering the Talmudic statement6 that we learn most from our students, mitalmidai yoter mikulam, one may wonder why questions posed by

Lessons and values are always best absorbed in a caring and trusting environment; this is especially true of religious teachings . . .

students teach us more than those raised by our peers. Rabbi Aharon Schechter, zt”l, suggested that while one may be able to dismiss the questions of peers, we do not have the luxury of doing that to the students who are dependent on us for their understanding. As those charged with their education, we must instead enter their world and see the matter through their eyes until we are just as troubled by their questions as they are. That process, undertaken by a teacher or parent who is entirely focused on addressing the students where they are, is what teaches us the most.

In this vein, Rabbi Levi ben Gershon (Ralbag 1288–1344) offers an entirely novel understanding of Moshe’s initial failure to communicate effectively with Klal Yisrael due to kotzer ruach, a shortness of spirit.7 While this verse is generally understood as referring to the shrunken spirit of the enslaved Jewish people, Ralbag understood it as describing Moshe’s own limited ability to focus on how to communicate most effectively to the Jewish people, because of the amount of time he was spending in the loftier spheres of attaining prophecy.8 Especially because of Moshe’s higher personal standard of engagement, he needed to spend time understanding his audience and formulating his message to them in a way that would be received by them where they were. Like Moshe, we need to bend down to reach our students and children.

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. . . if all involved in raising the child are not on the same page, that may increase the likelihood that the children will discard the entire book.

4. Prioritizing

Many, like Rabbi Lashak’s correspondent, have grappled with the balancing act between nurturing one’s own Judaism and impacting others. The Chatam Sofer (Rabbi Moshe Sofer 1762–1839) is perhaps best known for his uncompromising commitment to tradition and his readiness to confront and dissociate from promoters of reform; yet he defined himself by his dedication to positively educating others, such that he noted with pride that from when he was eighteen years old until his passing sixty years later, he taught Torah to others every day other than Tishah B’Av.9 He would explain to his students that Avraham was called G-d’s beloved specifically because of his untiring dedication to spreading belief in G-d to non-believers. In a classic insight, the Chatam Sofer asked why Hashem needed to justify sharing with Avraham His planned destruction of Sodom,10 and he answered that Avraham had made a choice to prioritize his kindness and outreach to the simple and unlearned, feeding and entertaining them. This left him little time to nurture his own spirituality in the manner that would typically result in attaining the lofty spiritual experience of prophecy. G-d nevertheless communicated with Avraham because He knew “that he would instruct his children and his household thereafter to safeguard the way of G-d, to do charity and justice.”11 Avraham’s prioritization of

teaching G-d’s Torah to his children and students could not and would not result in a reduction in his own access to G-d’s word; quite the opposite. The greatest spiritual and scholarly attainments come to those who focus on growing the connections of others, mitalmidai yoter mikulam

It is striking that both paragraphs of the Shema that we read daily to express our commitment to G-d and His mitzvot include the mandate to teach the Torah to our children and students.12 This clearly demonstrates how our own spiritual aspirations may never be entertained without our being mindful of how those values are being communicated forward, and without asking ourselves constantly how our halachically discretionary religious choices will influence our children and students for better or for worse. As the study demonstrates, misalignment in the religious values and aspirations of family, school and community profoundly affect the ability to transmit our values. Our personal and organizational religious choices must be made with the awareness that if all involved in raising the child are not on the same page, that may increase the likelihood that the children will discard the entire book.

Conclusion: Bringing Along the Na’ar A vibrant Jewish present requires a focus on the Jewish future. While both the Jews and the Egyptians were equal witnesses to the miracles of Yetziat Mitzrayim, the Egyptians allowed what they learned to be forgotten, while millennia later we continue to teach it to our children, remember it daily and commemorate its anniversary. This contrast is on display when Pharaoh seemed to bend and grant us leave to serve Hashem but asked, “Mi vami haholchim—Who would be going?” Moshe responded that to serve G-d we would go with young and old, with both our sons and our daughters, which Pharaoh refused, saying, if you are going to serve G-d then only the adult males need to go.13 While for others the service of G-d may be reserved for the man of the house,

for the Jewish people it is a way of life that includes all of us, young and old, male and female. Our experiences, our values and our religious practices shape and form our lives and the direction we provide our children. Our success in providing that direction will derive from our genuine care for those children, from the strength of our own engagement with G-d and Torah, from our humbly listening and responding to those children’s questions and fears—and from the priority we place on bringing home to Hashem every one of our children and every one of His.

Notes

1. Bereishit 44:34.

2. https://research.ou.org/research/.

3. Bereishit Rabbah 43:7.

4. Avot 1:12.

5. Lada’at Ba’aretz Darkecha, Yehuda Greenwald, p. 283.

6. Makkot 10a.

7. Shemot 6:9.

8. Ralbag conveys this idea several times in his commentary to Shemot, chaps. 4–7. I am grateful to my friend and colleague Jeffrey Korbman who made me aware of this gem.

9. See extensively the introductory essay to the responsa of the Chatam Sofer, entitled Pituchei Chotam

10. Bereishit 18:17.

11. Bereishit 18:19.

12. Devarim 6:7 and 11:19.

13. Shemot 10:8–11.

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CHANGE OF PACE, CHANGE AT PACE: Managing Gradual Transformation

By Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph

In any sphere of life, whether spiritual, personal or professional, change is inevitable. It’s also usually really hard. The process of transformation can be disorienting, even disruptive. Our challenge lies not in avoiding change, but in understanding how to navigate it—how to approach it thoughtfully and, perhaps more importantly, how to manage its speed.

The recent study on attrition in the Jewish community by the OU’s Center for Communal Research (CCR) showed the impact of significant life changes—such as moving to a new city, shifting religious practices or transitioning between schools—and revealed a profound truth: abrupt changes can disrupt lives in ways that are not always healthy, even when the change itself may be positive. This insight, gathered from qualitative research (hopefully to be verified through quantitative methods) invites us to reconsider how we approach change in all facets of our lives.

One fundamental finding of the study points to a key psychological truth: even

traversing small distances—whether geographic, spiritual or cultural— can create a gap that disorients and destabilizes individuals. When people experience a major life shift, like a religious awakening or a significant change in environment, the resulting friction between their previous and current selves can be profound. The risk of “flipping out”—a term often used to describe extreme or unbalanced reactions to change—is high. To make change healthy and sustainable, it must be approached gradually. It’s not about avoiding the necessary transformations but about moderating their speed and scope, allowing the individual and their community to adapt.

Ben Azzai teaches (Avot 4:2) that a person need not make drastic changes in his behavior all at once. Instead, one should take gradual steps toward improvement, following the principle of “mitzvah goreret mitzvah”—one good deed leads to another good deed. This approach is seen as a way to ensure that the individual does not become overwhelmed or disheartened by trying to accomplish too much too quickly. If we try to take on all 613 mitzvot at once, we will be overwhelmed and risk not even doing one. “A journey of a thousand miles,” said Lao Tzu, “begins with a single step.” Or, as the saying goes: “How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.”

This is true in the spiritual realm, but also in business and leadership, where abrupt shifts can destabilize not only the individual but the entire organization. When Covid-19 hit in mid-March 2020, we followed the early zeitgeist and ordered thousands of plastic gloves—which are still sitting in a box somewhere since shortly thereafter the experts shifted the focus to masks.

When changes are thrust upon us— whether through external factors like a pandemic, geopolitical instability or an economic crisis—the natural instinct may be to embrace change management, rushing forward to implement sweeping adjustments, alterations and modifications. But transformational leadership works best when it is balanced with a degree of continuity, with leaders maintaining a clear focus on stability while guiding their teams through disruption. In the case of the Covid-19 pandemic, and in some cases in the aftermath of the October 7 massacre and ensuing war, business and political leaders were faced with the challenge of maintaining continuity while pivoting rapidly to new realities. Yet even in such a crisis, a nuanced approach to change—one that allows for small wins and gradual progress— can prove to be more sustainable in the long term.

The guru of change management, John Kotter, in his “8-Step Process for Leading Change,” highlights the importance of urgency, building a guiding team and developing a compelling vision. However, he also reminds us that the process must be adaptive, recognizing that not all change can be implemented immediately. As Kotter advises, you can “keep a complicated system of people and technology running smoothly,” and “leadership is a set of processes that creates organizations in the first place or adapts them to significantly changing circumstances.” In the last few years, we have endeavored to promote a culture

Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph is executive vice

president/chief operating officer of the

Orthodox Union.

REACH

PE Â K FOR THE

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Whether it’s a business undergoing restructuring, a family dealing with a religious shift, or an individual undergoing a personal transformation, the healthiest way to approach change is with patience and nuance.

both internal and external to the OU focused on becoming more aware of what each part of the organization is doing and alignment across the organization. This process started slowly with periodic Town Halls and opportunities for the whole organization to learn more about other OU departments and programs, and even about individual professionals and their challenges and successes. Instead of mandating cultural change, we took small but meaningful steps—we introduced an internal podcast where we interview the incredible people who work at the OU, we provided settings and trainings for people to engage cross-departmentally, and we advanced collaborative, cross-programmatic solutions to help the klal

This principle is not only true in the world of business but in every system that involves human beings—whether it’s a family, a religious community or an organization navigating a shift in culture or policy. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, in his essay “Pacing Change” (Parashat Pinchas 5771, https://rabbisacks. org/covenant-conversation/pinchas/ pacing-change) offers a valuable perspective on spiritual or cultural change, wherein the importance of a gradual, adaptive approach cannot be overstated. He reflects on the story of Moshe Rabbeinu, who led Bnei Yisrael out of Egypt but ultimately did not enter the Promised Land. Rabbi Sacks observes that the change Moshe sought to bring about in Bnei Yisrael was not something that could happen overnight. The Children of Israel were not ready for their own transformation from a slave nation to one that owned

its destiny and land. They had to undergo a process of personal and collective growth that would take time. In the episode of the meraglim, the spies countered Moshe’s desire for immediate change, which ultimately led to failure at Merivah. This tragic series of stories highlighted the people’s inability to change quickly enough, which resulted in their denial of the Promised Land. This story underscores a key principle: change, especially deep, spiritual transformation, cannot be rushed. True leadership requires patience and the ability to manage gradual transitions.

“Vayedaber Moshe kein el Bnei Yisrael velo sham’u el Moshe mikotzer ruach u’mei’avodah kashah—Moshe related Hashem’s message to the Children of Israel, but they did not listen to Moshe because of their anguished spirit and harsh labor.” Moshe says Bnei Yisrael won’t listen to him. But to what extent does this go? In the context of finally escaping Mitzrayim to their freedom, would they really not listen to him regarding something they so desperately wanted?

The Meshech Chochmah explains: When you paint a picture of something that feels too far off, you can’t even imagine it—it feels unattainable, inaccessible. Only when Moshe Rabbeinu says “veheiveiti etchem—I will bring you to the Land, I will make it happen” can Bnei Yisrael begin to see and feel it.

The fact that the process is laid out in the four languages of redemption, and in five verbs—“vehotzeiti,” “vehitzalti,” “vega’alti,” “velakachti” and “veheiveiti”—reminds us that we cannot

rush into Geulah. Chazal teach us the Geulah will be kim’a kim’a, step by step, slowly and incrementally.

Change is not simply about achieving an end goal; it’s about the process by which we get there. This is beautifully encapsulated in the metaphor used by Vivian Greene: “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass; it’s about learning to dance in the rain.”

Life—and leadership—often feels like driving through a storm. In moments of uncertainty, the key is not to wait for the storm to pass, but to learn how to navigate through it, adjusting the course as needed and embracing the discomfort along the way. The art of leadership is often about managing that discomfort, maintaining focus and leading people toward small, meaningful wins—the sixth of Kotter’s steps—that, over time, add up to transformative results.

Change is an inevitable part of life, but it need not be feared or resisted. The key is in how we approach it. Whether it’s a business undergoing restructuring, a family dealing with a religious shift, or an individual undergoing a personal transformation, the healthiest way to approach change is with patience and nuance. Like a shepherd guiding his flock, leaders must sometimes lead from behind, recognizing that change must occur at a pace that allows people to adapt. Leadership, in its most effective form, is not about forcing people to leap ahead, but about guiding them step by step, with understanding, empathy and a vision for the future. When change is managed thoughtfully, it can be the very thing that leads us to greater strength, wisdom and fulfillment.

Joe Lieberman REFLECTIONS

on the Life and Legacy of

By Rabbi Menachem Genack

Former US Senator Joseph Lieberman (1942–2024) at the OU’s Torah New York event in 2018. Photos: Kruter Photography

In a political landscape often defined by ambition, selfpromotion and partisanship, Senator Joe Lieberman, whose first yahrtzeit is Adar 17, stood apart. He distinguished himself not only through his legislative accomplishments and willingness to work across the aisle but also through personal qualities rare in the halls of power: a keen sense of humor, genuine humility and a firmly grounded moral compass. His approach to public service was informed by his upbringing, his faith and his profound respect for tradition and law.

Lieberman’s life was shaped by his parents. His father, Henry, was not from an observant background; Henry’s mother died during the Great Flu Pandemic of 1918 and he was placed in an orphanage—he did not receive any Jewish education and did not even have a bar mitzvah. However, Lieberman’s mother, Marcia, was from an observant home and passed on to him the emotional resonance of Judaism. His father eventually found his own connection to belief and instilled in his son the rational framework for faith. In this way, Lieberman understood religion with both his head and his heart.

This faith underpinned a life of public service—and nowhere was it more evident than in Lieberman’s observance of Shabbat. Even while serving in the US Senate, he refused to let pressing schedules trample upon his beliefs. If a critical vote needed to be cast on a Friday evening or Saturday, he would walk miles to the Capitol rather than drive, thus honoring both his commitment to the law of his faith and his duties to his constituents.

He was fond of quoting the Hebrew writer Ahad Ha’am’s adage, “More than the Jews have kept the Sabbath, the Sabbath has kept the Jews.” In other words, Shabbat was not an impediment to his Senate career but actually gave him the strength to continue on and stay connected to his family, his community and his faith. This devotion was striking in a world where conscience and character are too often compromised by the demands of politics and power. Lieberman’s commitment to principle not only did not harm him politically but, on the contrary, made him a much beloved and admired figure by his colleagues and the public alike. That same moral fiber manifested in the most competitive arenas. In

Even while serving in the US Senate, he refused to let pressing schedules trample upon his beliefs. If a critical vote needed to be cast on a Friday evening or Saturday, he would walk miles to the Capitol rather than drive.

the exceedingly close and contentious 2000 presidential election—in which he served as Al Gore’s running mate— Lieberman exemplified grace under pressure. When the close contest was called for George W. Bush, Lieberman, along with Gore, graciously accepted the outcome, modeling a sense of integrity that transcended partisanship. He was admired not only because of what he stood for but also for how he conducted himself.

Lieberman understood that politics is not an end in itself, but a means to achieve meaningful goals for the nation. This perspective informed his bipartisan efforts and helped him create enduring friendships. He worked seamlessly with Republicans and Democrats alike, forging alliances based on shared values rather than narrow political expedience. He was well known for his close ties to Republican Senators John McCain and Lindsey Graham—the trio came to be known as the “three amigos.” Graham once quipped, “When I grow up, I want to be like Joe Lieberman.” McCain’s friendship with Lieberman was also legendary. McCain once told me about a joint trip to Iraq with Lieberman, on which Lieberman woke up early to recite the morning prayers. When McCain awoke and saw his fellow senator all wrapped up in tallit and tefillin, he said he thought he had died and gone to Heaven. McCain was fond of complaining about how his friendship with Lieberman meant having kosher restrictions imposed on him too. In Lieberman’s office after he had retired from the Senate, he had a picture on which McCain inscribed: “Joe, we miss you here in the Senate, but I sure don’t miss the salmon.”

Lieberman’s devotion to bipartisan cooperation stemmed in part from his larger view of freedom and law. His book With Liberty and Justice

Rabbi Menachem Genack is CEO of OU Kosher.

reflects this perspective. In it, he seeks to restore recognition to the oftenoverlooked Jewish festival of Shavuot, pairing it with Pesach as essential bookends of a moral narrative. Pesach celebrates the liberation from bondage; Shavuot commemorates the giving of the law at Sinai. For Lieberman, these two holidays are “two acts in the same drama,” inextricably linked, because genuine freedom demands the guidance of moral law. This belief mirrors his political stance: without the rule of law and the responsibilities it entails, freedom can descend into chaos. Through law, society safeguards its liberties and ensures that freedom remains a structured, enduring inheritance. Before Pesach each year, Lieberman would hold a model Seder for his Senate colleagues to help them understand this central institution of Judaism whose underlying message extends to all of humanity.

Lieberman’s passion for freedom and faith found expression in his attention to correcting an unfortunate omission. The Liberty Bell in Philadelphia was rung in 1776 when the Declaration of Independence was first read to the public, and the bell is famously inscribed with the verse “Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof,” a citation from the Book of Leviticus (25:10). In 2009, my good friend Dr. Joel Wolowelsky informed me that a visitor to the Liberty Bell saw this text translated into many languages—with one conspicuous absence: the original Hebrew version of this verse was absent from the Liberty Bell Center, operated by the National Park Service. I brought this to the attention of thenSenator Lieberman, who immediately conveyed this message to the National Park Service. After some of the usual bureaucratic wrangling, Lieberman made sure that the original Hebrew text was added to the monument, serving as a fitting reminder that the ideals of this country are rooted in the Hebrew Bible.

Lieberman’s devotion to his family life was as unwavering as his

commitment to public service. He cherished his wife, Hadassah, a strong and compassionate partner who shared his values and supported his career with grace and dignity. Recently, their daughter Hani welcomed a baby boy into the family, whom she and her husband named Yosef, after her father.

Ultimately, Joe Lieberman was a statesman whose principles went beyond partisan labels. He showed that legislative success and cross-party friendships were not merely possible, but vital. His humility, faith-infused worldview, and belief in law as the necessary guardian of liberty set him apart in Washington and won him near-universal admiration. For Lieberman, the Senate was never just a platform for personal gain; it was an arena in which to pursue the common good, guided by reason, tempered by faith and suffused with that rare humility so needed in the nation’s capital. In his books, Joe refers to me as his teacher and friend, but while I did study Torah with him, in truth he was my teacher—not for what he taught me about a specific text but for

what he demonstrated through his life as a whole, in his personal character and in his moral qualities. Having reached the pinnacle of public life, Joe Lieberman embodied the Gemara’s teaching (Yoma 86a) about the mitzvah to “make the name of Heaven beloved” such that people say, “See how pleasant are his ways, how proper are his deeds. The verse states about him: ‘You are My servant, Israel, in whom I will be glorified’ (Yeshayahu 49:3).”

Rabbi Menachem Genack, CEO of OU Kosher, with Senator Lieberman.

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The Making of a

Rachel Schwartzberg

New efforts are being made to improve oversight of the mezuzah industry. Why?

Aterrible accident took place in Manette Mayberg’s home in Silver Spring, Maryland, several years ago. She was hosting an event and a guest leaned on a railing at the top of a staircase—and it gave way. The crowd watched in horror as the woman fell to the floor below.

While waiting in the hospital emergency room for news, Mayberg called her rabbi and asked him to check the mezuzahs in her home. “To this day,” she says, “I don’t know why that was my first thought.”

As it turned out, the mezuzah on the door next to the fallen railing wasn’t kosher. “It had a mistake in the word ‘she’arecha—your gates,’” Mayberg says. She was so shaken by this discovery that when she visited the injured woman in the hospital, she asked the family if they had checked their own mezuzahs recently. With their permission, Mayberg sent her rabbi to check the mezuzahs in their home as well.

What he found was almost unbelievable. “He sent me a picture of my mezuzah and theirs side by side,” Mayberg recalls with emotion. “The mezuzah on their bedroom door had the identical mistake as our mezuzah. It was clear to me there was some connection between us that we couldn’t understand.” Mayberg continued to visit the woman throughout her long road to a full recovery.

The mezuzah experience stayed in the back of her mind for many years, until Mayberg came across a published letter written by the late Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson. He indicated that women have a special responsibility to make sure there are kosher mezuzahs on the doorways of Jewish homes.

“The light went on in my head,” Mayberg says. “This is my tikkun! I couldn’t have prevented what happened, but it wasn’t an accident that it happened in my house. I want to make sure that every Jewish home in the world has a kosher mezuzah as a tikkun for the accident.”

With that, MyZuzah was born.

Mayberg, who with her husband, Louis Mayberg, serves as a trustee of the Mayberg Foundation, founded MyZuzah in 2018 with the mission to put a kosher mezuzah on the front door of every Jewish home in the world. Since its founding, the nonprofit has distributed more than 20,000 mezuzahs to Jewish homes in seventy-two countries. A well-known entrepreneurial philanthropist and national vice president of the OU, Manette Mayberg, is also the founder of the Jewish Education Innovation Challenge (JEIC) and co-founder of Momentum (formerly Jewish Women’s Renaissance Project). MyZuzah provides kosher

How do you know if the sofer has yiras Shamayim? How do you know what kind of parchment and ink were used? We realized a mechanism needed to be implemented to protect the consumer.”

mezuzahs at a highly subsidized rate along with educational resources. “Mezuzah is beautiful and unique in that it’s a mitzvah that applies to Jews everywhere and all the time,” explains Alex Shapero, MyZuzah’s program director. “And the majority of people who reach out are not part of an organized Jewish community.”

But the founding of MyZuzah has had a ripple effect, leading to new and important efforts to restore transparency and accountability to the mezuzah industry. In fact, a recent partnership between the OU and The STa”M Project is set to radically change the field of STa”M (an acronym for sifrei Torah, tefillin and mezuzah). “We want to see a revolution,” says Rabbi Avraham Lessin, a Jerusalem-based sofer who is the director of The ST”aM Project, also known as STAMP, which is dedicated to restoring transparency and reliability to the field of STa”M.

Rachel

is

A mezuzah has to be written carefully, with every letter formed properly and in order. Photos: Michael Weichbrod/ Jerusafilm, courtesy of STAMP

Schwartzberg

a writer and editor who lives with her family in Memphis, Tennessee.

THE “WILD WEST”

As MyZuzah got up and running, Mayberg’s team set out to find a large and reliable supply of kosher mezuzahs to distribute. Their efforts brought them up close and personal with the mezuzah industry.

Rabbi Lessin was hired to begin checking mezuzahs for MyZuzah. At the time, he had been working for about ten years as a sofer STa”M. He was also involved in the field as a magiah, a certified checker of STa”M written by others. After a while, the MyZuzah staff began to understand the distressing reality that Rabbi Lessin had been seeing for years. “We had a bigger problem than MyZuzah could address,” Rabbi Lessin says. “Not only were there homes without mezuzahs, but there are also people who have mezuzahs, but they’re simply not kosher.”

Mayberg and her MyZuzah team found a non-transparent international supply chain rife with problems, including abysmally low wages, substandard products and even outright fraud. “My eyes were opened to a whole world I knew nothing about,” recalls Mayberg. “We thought we had a simple mission, but it turned out it was anything but simple.”

“As I was checking mezuzahs, it was clear that these mezuzahs had issues that had been there all along,” says Rabbi Lessin. “We found problems with the writing itself, such as spelling errors and improperly formed letters. This wasn’t a matter of wear and tear. These items were not good from the outset.”

“It was like the Wild West,” says Shapero. “For starters, there is no way for a consumer to know if a mezuzah is kosher. There are lots of halachot involved, and most people aren’t familiar with them. And to make matters worse, mezuzahs

are often already wrapped up when you buy them. There are barriers to even seeing what you’re getting.”

One challenge, Rabbi Lessin explains, is that in North America, most mezuzahs available for sale in Judaica or book stores are written in Israel and purchased by a middleman (or two) who then sells them to store owners. Understandably, the middlemen rarely disclose who wrote the mezuzahs they’re selling, out of concern that buyers could go around them and undercut their business.

“Halachically speaking, we are to believe honest Jews if they tell you something is kosher,” explains Rabbi Ezra Sarna, director of Torah and Halacha Initiatives at the OU. “If the store owner is trustworthy, and they trust the businessman they bought the mezuzah from, then the customer isn’t doing anything wrong at all. And yet that doesn’t change the fact that a lot of mezuzahs are pasul,” he says.

The situation reached a point where there were “simply too many problems to ignore,” Rabbi Sarna adds—even without cases of outright fraud. “The sofer gets paid per mezuzah, not by the hour, so he’s incentivized to write as quickly as possible. That makes him much less likely to even check his own work, let alone pay a magiah to review his mezuzahs. And the middlemen often simply trust the sofer that the mezuzah is kosher.”

Rabbi Sarna underscores that communal leaders have long been concerned about problems within the mezuzah market. “Solutions have been tried multiple times,” he says. He notes that there have been successful efforts to raise the standards for mezuzahs sold in certain stores, or in a specific neighborhood, and there are organizations that vouch for the trustworthiness of certain soferim. “But no one had a wide enough reach to change the system.”

A magiah (a certified checker of STa”M) examining a mezuzah written by others.

MEZUZAH 101

The creation of a mezuzah involves three basic ingredients: the materials, the writing and the sofer himself.

The materials include the klaf (parchment) and the ink. What type of skins are being used? What kind of ink? These are questions few consumers ask. Additionally, the handwriting is critical, says Rabbi Moshe Elefant, chief operating officer at OU Kosher and co-author of The Complete Mezuzah Guide Does the sofer have the proper knowledge to write the letters accurately? Safrut (the ritual writing penned by a sofer) adheres to a strict set of rules, and seemingly small details can disqualify a mezuzah. Misspelled words or misshapen letters can render a mezuzah pasul, for example. If the sofer does not have the proper halachic knowledge, it doesn’t matter how beautiful the mezuzah looks. [See the sidebar on page 30.]

Finally, there is the sofer himself. A sofer may be a highly skilled expert in the halachot related to STa”M, or he may be an individual who took a crash course in safrut and has nice handwriting. And critically: is he a G-d-fearing person?

A mezuzah has to be written carefully, with every letter formed properly. The halachah states that if one wrote a letter and then the following letter and then realized that there was an error in the previous letter, he cannot go back and fix it. This is because the letters must be written “k’sidran,” in order; if they are written out of order, the mezuzah is not kosher.

“Let’s assume a sofer writes an entire mezuzah, and when he gets to the last letter he realizes there’s a problem with the second-to-the-last letter,” says Rabbi Elefant. “Halachically speaking, he cannot fix it; he must start all

over again. You need a sofer with genuine yiras Shamayim, because only Hashem will know if the sofer started over again or chose not to.”

“So when you buy a mezuzah, how do you know if the sofer has yiras Shamayim? How do you know what kind of parchment and ink were used? We realized a mechanism needed to be implemented to protect the consumer,” says Rabbi Elefant.

“Dishonest people will always take advantage,” continues Rabbi Elefant. “They’re motivated to make products at low cost and sell them at high prices. Plus, sophisticated technology that didn’t exist previously has introduced new ways to mimic a real mezuzah.”

Unfortunately, those in the field have no shortage of horror stories to share—of high-end copiers being used to print mezuzahs, or non-Jewish workers hired to handwrite the words on parchment.

Rabbi Elefant shares one such story. An Israel-based sofer with a solid reputation called a technician to fix his copy machine. The technician was quite surprised to see that the copy machine was located in the bathroom. He couldn’t understand why anyone would do that. He soon discovered that the sofer was not actually writing the mezuzahs he was selling. He was using one perfect mezuzah and feeding klaf into the machine to produce hundreds of mezuzahs. The technician, who wasn’t religious, realized something was wrong. It was clear that the copy machine was being deliberately kept in the bathroom to hide unethical behavior. “The technician went to the local rabbi of the community, and that’s how the sofer was exposed,” says Rabbi Elefant. “Who knows how many people purchased those mezuzahs?”

Soferim must be well versed in the halachot of writing mezuzahs— and they must write with the intention of fulfilling the mitzvah.

TIME FOR CHANGE

The best solution to the problems afflicting the mezuzah market, Rabbi Lessin thought, would be to make a clear delineation between the mitzvah and the money by having a nonprofit organization oversee the production and checking of STa”M.

“There was no transparency in the industry,” says Rabbi Lessin. “We felt it was time to tackle the problem. We needed to do for STa”M what the OU did for kashrus on food so many years ago.”

With support from the Mayberg Foundation, Rabbi Lessin founded the STa”M Project, or STAMP, an Israel-based nonprofit, in 2019. STAMP’s mission: to create a worldwide STa”M market that is transparent and regulated, and to educate the public about the halachic requirements, and importance of the mitzvot, related to STa”M. “Remember the great slogan of the famous men’s clothing store Syms: ‘An educated consumer is our best customer,’” says Rabbi Lessin. “When it comes to STa”M, the idea is the same.”

STAMP’s flagship initiative has been to create an official process to verify and certify that mezuzahs are kosher. Rabbi Lessin envisions a world where everyone looks for certification on a mezuzah before they buy it, just like they check for a hechsher on their food. Three years ago, STAMP partnered with the OU to advance its mission and reach a wider audience. The OU contributions to the project are both internal and outward facing. “OU Kosher is a supervisory agency and we were approached to advise on certain aspects of their supervisory program,” explains Rabbi Elefant. Beyond that, as a result of the OU’s continuous oversight of STAMP’s operations, the OU places its logo on each mezuzah. “The well-known OU logo that has earned the trust and confidence of kosher consumers tells the consumer that this is a mezuzah you can trust,” says Rabbi Sarna.

“Nowadays, no one who keeps kosher would ever consider buying meat without certification,” says Rabbi Elefant. “No one would say, ‘well, this looks kosher to me, I’m sure it’s

There was no transparency in the industry. …We felt it was time to tackle the problem. We needed to do for STa”M what the OU did for kashrus on food so many years ago.”

OU mezuzahs from Israel have started to arrive in the United States and are now available for purchase via various vendors listed on ou.org/mezuzah.

fine.’ We want to achieve the same standards when it comes to mezuzahs.”

In fact, he says, the halachic issues around mezuzahs are arguably more complicated than for kosher food. “You could have a mezuzah on your door for your whole lifetime—and it’s pasul,” Rabbi Elefant says. “You’d never know, because the issues are not discernible. That’s very serious.”

A STAMP OF APPROVAL

Under the guidance and supervision of STAMP’s rabbinic board, comprised of leading posekim in the area of safrut, all STAMP soferim must pass a series of tests confirming their halachic knowledge. They must also submit character references and writing samples to compare against the mezuzahs they hand in, in order to ensure that they actually wrote them.

Through the OU STa”M Pikuach (oversight) Initiative, consumers can now ask for OU mezuzahs. “When a consumer buys a mezuzah with an OU/STAMP certification, he can be assured that the mezuzah underwent a rigorous quality assurance process,” says Rabbi Sarna. The certification guarantees that the mezuzah was written by a vetted sofer with the proper materials and that it was checked by two magihim as well as an AI-powered computer scan. Those checks and scans deem the mezuzah to be kosher according to generally accepted halachic standards.

Once a mezuzah is deemed kosher, it is packaged in a tamper-proof sleeve accompanied by a certificate of authenticity, which includes the mezuzah’s basic biography and history and contains a QR code leading to a highquality image and additional information. The certificate includes STAMP and OU logos.

Yehuda Neuberger, chair of the OU’s board of directors and a board member of STAMP, was involved in the development of the computer program used by STAMP, which took teams of programmers more than two years to build. The technology uses computer vision and machine learning to improve the process of checking mezuzahs and includes several measures for fraud protection as well.

Continued on p. 32

WHAT COULD BE WRONG WITH YOUR MEZUZAH?

By Rachel Schwartzberg

While nearly all Jewish day school graduates have learned how and where to hang a mezuzah, the many halachot related to the scroll itself are often unfamiliar.

A kosher mezuzah is handwritten on parchment, or klaf, usually between seven and fifteen centimeters high, by a trained sofer. The text consists of the two first paragraphs of the Shema (Devarim 6:4–9 and 11:13–21). The parchment is scored with twenty-two lines, and the letters are written with black ink in Ketav Ashurit—the same font used to write a Torah scroll.

In order for a mezuzah to be kosher, the sofer must be well versed in the halachot and traditions of writing mezuzahs—and he must write it with the intention of fulfilling the mitzvah. The parchment must be made from certain types of animal skins, with the express purpose of being used for the mitzvah. And finally, the halachah requires that the letters of a mezuzah be written “k’sidran,” in order. Practically, that means that if there’s a mistake, the sofer can’t go back and add in or rewrite a letter in the mezuzah—as one could in a Torah scroll.

What makes this so complex is that when a magiah looks at a mezuzah, he cannot discern the process that went into writing it. “None of these factors can be checked by looking at the final product,” explains Rabbi Yisrael Small, a sofer and mohel based in Waterbury, Connecticut. “The only thing I can see is whether the letters were formed properly. I can see if the letters are touching or if the lines that comprise a letter are severed—neither of which is okay. But I can’t know if the klaf was made lishmah (expressly for the mitzvah), or if the sofer was working lishmah and saying out loud that he’s writing l’shem mitzvah (for the sake of the mitzvah).”

What a sofer or magiah can do when checking mezuzahs is to improve the shape of the original letters, explains Rabbi Small. “We can fix the letters if they’re already there,” he says, “for example, to make it look nicer or add crowns to the letters if they were left off.”

Although Rabbi Small writes mezuzahs himself, like many soferim he also buys mezuzahs written in Israel

and checks and fixes them to sell in the US. “You can definitely tell from looking at it how much time was spent on the writing,” he says. “One that was done in a rush might be kosher, but it will end up being a cheap mezuzah. The ones that are nicely written with uniform letters and consistent crowns—those are mehudar.”

Halachah generally requires a homeowner to have their mezuzahs checked twice every seven years. Rabbi Avraham Lessin, a Jerusalem-based sofer and the director of STAMP, recalls many “very uncomfortable conversations,” telling people they would need to fix or replace their mezuzahs. “It was like when you take your car to be serviced,” he says, “and the mechanic tells you that you need new brake pads. You feel like you have no choice, because he’s the expert and you don’t know anything about cars. But there’s always a suspicion: Maybe he’s taking advantage of me? Maybe he’s just trying to sell brake pads? That’s how these conversations felt. At the end of the day, the sofer doesn’t want it to seem like he said it was problematic just so he could make money fixing or replacing it.”

But even a mezuzah that was kosher from the outset can develop problems that weren’t there before. “Over time, the blackness of the ink could fade, or the ink might crack if the parchment is bent instead of rolled,” says Rabbi Ezra Sarna, director of Torah and Halacha Initiatives at the OU, who manages the OU’s STa”M Pikuach Initiative. Additionally, exposure to weather can cause the parchment to degrade or even rot. “This is true especially when the sun shines directly on the mezuzah holder, or in places that have weeks of humidity,” he adds. “But even temperature changes with the seasons can affect a mezuzah, because ink expands in heat and contracts in the cold.”

He stresses that it’s impossible to know if a mezuzah is still kosher without having it regularly checked. “I was once checking the mezuzahs of a shul in Texas,” he recalls. “The one on the front door got direct sun exposure, and when I opened the case, the parchment literally disintegrated in my hands and promptly blew away in the breeze. You couldn’t tell at all by looking at it within the case.”

Beyond ensuring that there are reliably kosher mezuzahs available, Rabbi Lessin travels around the world on behalf of STAMP to educate Jewish communities about what goes into making a kosher mezuzah—demonstrating the value proposition of spending a little more when buying one. “We simply can’t expect people to value something they don’t understand,” he explains.

“Consumers often don’t have a frame of reference when it comes to buying mezuzahs,” says Rabbi Sarna. “If the local Jewish bookstore used to sell mezuzahs for $30 and it’s been a while since you bought one, you don’t want to pay $130 now.” All the more so because people tend to need several mezuzahs at once, such as when they’ve recently moved or built a new home, which often coincides with many other expenses. “They start to feel like the higher prices are part of someone’s get-rich-quick scheme,” he says.

The fact is, however, that soferim who write mezuzahs are generally remunerated very poorly for their painstaking work. “On average, a qualified and experienced sofer can write twenty mezuzahs per month, and he has to buy his parchment, ink and supplies,” explains Rabbi Sarna. “When you buy a product from Amazon, the retailers and Amazon take 15 percent each. The stores and the middlemen in the STa”M industry rarely take more than that. But by the time the store takes a fair cut, and the middlemen take theirs, how much is the sofer making on a mezuzah that sells for $150? Even if he were to sell every single mezuzah he writes, which is rare, he’s still not earning a decent living—no matter that he is highly skilled in his craft and a talmid chacham.

Neuberger notes that the OU and STAMP recognized that publicizing the issues with mezuzahs required both sensitivity and strategy. “We couldn’t simply tell everyone there’s a problem without having a solution available,” he says. Additionally, adds Rabbi Sarna, the OU leadership was keenly aware that raising alarms could create a rush on kosher mezuzahs and thereby drive up prices.

“One of the things we are seeking to accomplish is to have more people enter the profession of safrus and have more proper mezuzahs written so that we could have a bigger supply,” says Rabbi Elefant.

Both STAMP and MyZuzah are committed to promoting what they call “fair trade standards” to enable soferim and magihim to earn wages that are commensurate with their expertise. Rabbi Lessin believes that this important step will encourage others to enter the profession. “There aren’t enough qualified soferim writing mezuzahs, and there’s a global shortage of magihim as well,” notes Rabbi Lessin. Ideally, his goal would be for every community to have a STa”M professional as part of the region’s Jewish infrastructure. “It would keep the community more connected to the mitzvah of mezuzah, and people would know where to go with questions,” he says.

To make the field of writing STa”M more attractive as a vocation, STAMP has created a professional network and offers training courses. They’ve trained more than 100 new magihim and have more courses planned for the future— including virtual opportunities for people living outside of

Through the OU STa”M Pikuach (oversight) Initiative, consumers can now ask for OU mezuzahs. The certification assures that the mezuzah underwent a rigorous quality assurance process.

Israel. “The soferim we work with are independent,” says Rabbi Lessin. “There’s no question that meeting the STAMP requirements is extra work for them, but we believe they will benefit in the long run. And ultimately, they are choosing to be part of something much bigger.”

The organization also offers classes on business practices and one-on-one coaching to help soferim and magihim turn their work into a stable livelihood for their families. Rabbi Lessin is gratified to see these efforts begin to pay off for people. “One sofer came to me about a year ago,” he recalls. “He said STAMP changed his professionalism as a sofer He took advantage of everything we offered—including feedback from magihim on his work and financial guidance on running a business. He told me, ‘STAMP has helped me make this into a substantial business that can pay my bills.’”

In the coming years, STAMP hopes to begin offering training courses for new soferim, and they’re getting ready to expand their efforts to tefillin as well.

THE ECONOMICS OF MEZUZAHS

Neuberger feels that a priority of the OU is to “build and improve the infrastructure of Jewish living—and mezuzah must be a part of that.” What other mitzvah is there, he asks, “where the average person may have the best of intentions, even a willingness to spend money on the mitzvah, and yet they still have no way to really know if they’re doing it properly?”

The systems that may have worked before are no longer serving the community, he says. “In the past, people led simpler lives. There were fewer Jews, and smaller homes. Every town or area had a sofer, and he was known to be honest and reliable. Nowadays, most of the time you don’t know the person writing your mezuzahs. As the market has grown and evolved, there hasn’t been proper oversight or quality control. We’ve been relying too much on ‘trusting the people who trust the people.’”

“The concept of supervising mezuzahs hasn’t existed before,” Rabbi Elefant says. “But there are several factors that have made the kashrus of mezuzahs more of a concern now than in the past.” The primary issue, Rabbi Elefant says, is that there has never been a greater demand. The exponential population growth of the Jewish community and increased engagement in religious life have yielded a significant increase in demand for items of STa”M. “There are more Jews, and homes are bigger,” says Rabbi Elefant. “We simply have more doorways than ever before.”

In addition, adds Rabbi Elefant, we unfortunately lost a significant number of members of our community during Covid, and many people chose to memorialize their loved ones with the writing of a sefer Torah—which is a yearlong project. Writing a sefer Torah is something soferim generally prefer, because they know they are going be paid for a year’s worth of

TRUST THE MEZUZAH THAT PROTECTS YOUR HOME

Nowadays, no one who keeps kosher would ever consider buying meat without certification. No one would say, ‘well, this looks kosher to me, I’m sure it’s fine.’ We want to achieve the same standards when it comes to mezuzahs.”

work and therefore they won’t need to be writing mezuzahs and taking on other small jobs. This, however, has resulted in somewhat of a shortage of available soferim.

Finally, since October 7, the number of people interested in having a mezuzah on their doors has increased—even among people who don’t know what a kosher mezuzah means. All these factors have contributed to a lack of supply and an increase in demand. This has led to the supply market being flooded with individuals producing and selling varying levels of mezuzahs, with limited assurance of quality or kashrut for the consumer.

These factors also drive up cost. “Wherever there’s a need, price goes up,” explains Rabbi Elefant.

Rabbi Elefant can’t promise that mezuzahs with an OU/ STAMP certification won’t cost a bit more. But he clarifies that the OU’s involvement in this effort stemmed from “a sense of responsibility to the klal” and is simply a service to the community. “The OU is not making any profit from this initiative; there are no OU organizational fees layered into the final price of the mezuzah,” he says.

As an active voice in all three organizations involved in elevating the standards of the mitzvah of mezuzah, Manette Mayberg believes this initiative will have a much broader impact on the Jewish people than anyone can measure.

“Mezuzah is one of our oldest mitzvot, going back to marking the doorposts in Egypt,” she notes, “It’s a connective and protective mitzvah—both rational and mystical at the same time.”

She emphasizes that the mezuzah also holds a special place in the heart of the Jewish people. “It’s likely the most universal of all the mitzvot. All Jews relate to it, from the left to the right and in between. Mezuzah is at the core of who we are as a people.” More fundamentally, mezuzah is at the core of a Jewish home.

“It provides a certain shemirah, spiritual protection, and a certain elevated connection to Hakadosh Baruch Hu every time you walk in and out of that home,” says Rabbi Elefant. “The mezuzah is what consecrates the home in the Jewish family.”

How Day Schools Are Doubling Down on Student Cell Phone Use

By Barbara Bensoussan

slide to p ower off

“W

ould you let your twelve-year-old participate in a party with forty people after midnight with no adult supervision? That’s what a WhatsApp chat is,” says Rabbi Yoni Fein, head of school at Brauser Maimonides Academy (BMA) in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

BMA, which educates students from nursery through eighth grade, is but one of a growing number of Modern Orthodox schools, across the country—from Hebrew Academy of Long Beach (HALB) on Long Island to Yeshiva University High School of Los Angeles (YULA) on the West Coast—that are banning smartphones from schools or imposing restrictions like checking them into lockers or Yondr pouches (a device originally devised to lock a phone to prevent concert goers from filming concerts). “Smartphone use was once considered a religious issue,” says Rabbi Fein. “We didn’t want our children to be exposed to immorality and unholy things. Today, we are seeing the effects of smartphones on brain function and mental health in children globally.”

When smartphones first appeared, conversation among parents and educators was all about avoiding exposure to inappropriate sites and getting the right filters. “Today, we are focused on human relationships, productivity, resilience and grit,” says Dr. Eli Shapiro, EdD, LCSW, founder of the Digital Citizenship Project, a school-based program to train parents and teachers to minimize the dangers of technology.

Rabbi Fein claims that smartphones took over the market so quickly that no one had the time to think about whether or not they were a healthy thing. “Now we’re playing catchup as the rates of anxiety and depression soar,” he says.

“This [policy] has nothing to do with religion; it’s about your child’s safety and mental health,” said Michelle Andron, the general studies principal of Emek Hebrew Academy/ Teichman Family Torah Center, an elementary school in Los Angeles, during a Zoom with parents about a new policy to ban cell phones. “If you talk to our staff, you’ll hear that we are seeing a sharp increase in students dealing with diagnoses of anxiety, childhood depression, self-harm and eating disorders. We need to act now.”

CONSENSUS ON THE DANGERS

Prominent social psychologist Dr. Jonathan Haidt, who authored The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness, has been at the forefront of sounding the alarm about the problems posed by smartphones. “By the year 2013, it was like someone turned on a switch,” he told The Daily Show in a segment shared with Emek parents. “We saw tremendous increases in anxiety, depression and self-harm.”

By Barbara Bensoussan

In an Atlantic article entitled “Get Phones Out of Schools Now,” Dr. Haidt writes that teachers spoke to him about the “drama, conflict, bullying and scandal played out continually during the school day on platforms to which the staff had no access.” When children go home, he laments, they no longer enjoy a “play-based childhood.”

“It’s not an exaggeration to describe iGen as being on the brink of the worst mental health crisis in decades,” writes sociologist Dr. Jean Twenge in an Atlantic article entitled “Have Smartphones Destroyed a Generation?” “Much of this deterioration can be traced to their phones,” she asserts.

Dr. Shapiro, who wrote his doctoral thesis on cyberbullying, notes that the harmful social and emotional impact of phone use is worse for girls, because while boys use smartphones largely for games and entertainment, girls use them for social connectivity. Transplanting their social lives into a virtual sphere means they have less direct engagement both with their friends and the world, and become immersed in constant, wide-scale social comparison and competition.

Barbara Bensoussan is a writer in Brooklyn and a frequent contributor to Jewish Action.

Photos courtesy of YULA, except where indicated otherwise.

Many kids who are otherwise good kids—just not yet mature—can get involved in awful phone decisions that include bullying and bad language, Rabbi Fein says. A hurtful comment made on the playground is said once and cannot be replayed, but a hurtful comment on a group chat never goes away.

Before BMA adopted its “Wait Past 8” policy four years ago—asking parents to opt to sign a commitment to not give their children smartphones until they graduate eighth grade—Rabbi Fein would see children at bar and bat mitzvahs sitting off to the side, busily scrolling on cell phones. “It’s normal at that age to have social anxiety, but instead of dealing with it, they’d pick up their phones,” he says. “We are trying to encourage no-phone semachot.” Since his school began the no-phone policy, he has noticed a positive shift in student engagement and motivation. “They seem happier,” he

The most fascinating thing we learned is that parents wanted our involvement. Parents feel powerless against peer pressure.

says, emphasizing the importance of ingraining healthy habits early and creating happy experiences with unstructured time, time outdoors and social time in which people look each other in the eye and share. (Many other day schools have also adopted a no-phones-at-semachot policy.)

“We were very tough on Snapchat [for our middle school],” says Rabbi Adam Englander, head of school at HALB Elementary School on Long Island. Snapchat has a “Snap Map,” so kids can constantly see where their friends are. “Imagine how anxiety provoking it is for a child to see her friends at another child’s house and she wasn’t included.”

And then there was the cyberbullying—“We would regularly get screenshots from parents’ iPads or phones showing kids saying a nasty comment about their child,” says Rabbi Englander.

WHAT ABOUT THE LEARNING?

In addition to the mental health component, smartphones and other devices have been shown to have a negative impact on learning and classroom attention. Test scores have plummeted since 2012. After speaking to teachers, Dr. Haidt reports in his article, “Keeping students off their devices during class was a constant struggle. Getting students’ attention was harder because they seemed permanently distracted and congenitally distractible.” Students were using class time to text and even watch Netflix or gamble. Teachers uniformly told Dr. Haidt, “We hate the phones.”

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The phones were becoming the focus of their lives; it was like an addiction among the girls. To me, their childhood was being replaced by phones, and it didn't look healthy.

Smartphone use is unquestionably detrimental to attention spans. While adults are affected as well, children and teenagers, whose brains are still developing, are at even greater risk. Dr. Haidt notes that older people, with a fully mature frontal cortex have enough trouble maintaining focus. But a child with an undeveloped frontal cortex is as yet unequipped to resist distraction.

Moreover, with smartphones and other devices at hand, students become accustomed to not having to work hard to access information. “In my day, if you wanted to find out the distance from the earth to the moon, you would walk a few blocks, maybe take a bus to the library, take out a book, and find your information,” Dr. Shapiro says. “Today the kids say, ‘Hey, Alexa!’ It’s instant gratification. The teacher’s role has become less about imparting information than it is to teach critical thinking. Fortunately, the double curriculum of day schools is better suited to imparting critical thinking and analytical skills.”

As the evidence mounts about the negative effects of child cell phone use on mental health and learning, states like Florida and Indiana have now limited cell phone use in schools. As of this writing in January, Los Angeles just began banning cell phones in schools, and New York City, which has the nation’s largest school district with over a million students, is considering a smartphone ban where every student will be required to disconnect from their devices during school hours as well.

POLICIES IN PRACTICE

In his article, Dr. Haidt proposes four realistic norms for parents and schools to adopt to mitigate the adverse effects of cell phones: 1. not giving children smartphones before high school, 2. not allowing social media use before age sixteen, 3. making schools phone-free zones and 4. encouraging more independence, responsibility and free play during childhood. His thinking has deeply influenced parents and educators at Jewish day schools.

Caroline Bryk, the executive director of the Jewish Parents Forum at the Tikvah Fund, where parents can learn from leading thinkers and educators about the practical challenges facing Jewish parents, has spearheaded initiatives to unite parents and educators to create a healthier educational environment for children. “For the last couple of years, concerns about ‘screen-saturated’ childhoods and social media use have flowed through every parenting discussion,” she says. “Research shows the effects of cell phone use on intellectual, moral and spiritual development. It becomes an addiction; it causes children to lose sleep.” In December 2023, she began leading focus groups on Zoom with parents to discuss a partnership between parents and schools. She organized a conference at Kehilath Jeshurun on Manhattan’s Upper East Side with a presentation on The Anxious Generation by Dr. Haidt and live-streamed it to fifty Jewish day schools and more than 2,000 viewers. “It sparked a serious conversation,” Bryk says. “The heads of schools were eager for more—for ways to translate Dr. Haidt’s suggestions into action.”

At the event, Dr. Haidt asserted that a network of schools working together with similar values and policies can implement real change as a collective group and in doing so, assist thousands of families. The conference, says Rabbi Englander, “was a game changer” as “it concretized to every school that we need to do something.”

YULA’s new policy, launched this past September, is simple: no devices on campus. Every student has a designated phone slot at the school entranceway.

“We should be banning phones as a community—all of the schools should be on the same page,” says Rabbi Mordechai Shifman, head of school at Emek. His school’s new policy—put in place this past September—is to expel any child who owns a smart phone. “[This policy] should become a norm, because this is what it takes to raise a socially and emotionally sound child.”

Bryk next organized a first-of-its-kind summit at the end of March 2024, attended by school leadership and parents of fifty Jewish day schools and yeshivahs and 200 lay and school leaders for two days of intensive discussions about concerns surrounding smartphones and social media. As a result, many day schools, including some high schools, have changed their policies, incorporating changes such as asking girls to not use Snapchat or to take themselves off group chats by 9:00 pm. For the most part, she reports, parents are very supportive, even if each big change brings a flurry of emails and calls. “We misname the crisis,” says Bryk. “It’s not just about health, but the ability to carry out the mission of Jewish day schools and the continuation of Jewish communal life. The conversation begins with a tech policy, but it doesn’t end with it. We still have a lot to learn.”

“It’s not just policing,” Dr. Shapiro agrees. “Banning phones is bad marketing and only one leg of the table. We prefer to promote the idea of giving the kids the best possible environment for their social and learning experience. It’s about finding an approach to manage tech use and creating an optimal environment for students.”

What are day schools doing in practice? Emek asks parents to sign a consent form that their children will not have smartphones, and a smartphone for family use must be a kosher phone with no internet access and no social media. Parents are also asked to supervise home use of tablets, smart TVs and similar devices. Rabbi Shifman notes that innocentsounding games like Roblox are not necessarily kid-friendly: “We had a case of a kid who was approached by a predator on Roblox,” he says. The school started the program five years ago (but implemented strict new penalties this year for violating the policy), and slowly rolled out a policy starting

with third grade and moving up each year, one grade at a time. This past year, a few families did not comply and had to leave the school.

Moriah in Englewood, New Jersey, was one of the first day schools to require Yondr pouches for students in grades five through eight; students below fifth grade are not allowed to have cell phones. “It’s easy to enforce,” says Rabbi Daniel Alter, Moriah’s head of school. “If we see a phone, the policy is that we take it away for a week. I only see cell phones out maybe three to five times a year, and often it’s just an oversight. Many kids find it a hassle to bring a phone to school, so they just leave it at home.”

When Moriah launched this policy, it started with the fourth grade, reasoning that it was too late to change the rules for the current sixth grade. “We had to get the insiders, the grade’s parent opinion leaders, on board,” Rabbi Alter says. “We began calling them to say, ‘We’ve been thinking about a cell phone policy; what do you think?’ We generated a lot of interest. Once we had a core of people on board, we held a group Zoom to introduce the concept and asked people to sign on to agree to a policy of no smartphones before the beginning of eighth grade and no social media until the end of that year.”

It was presented as a social contract that could be revisited. Grade by grade, the school is getting parents and students on board. “We can’t solve everything at once,” Rabbi Alter says, “but we are starting with smartphone limits.”

I’ve gotten so many emails from parents . . . so many parents have come up to me on the carpool line and said, “this [program] has changed our home life.”

In Florida, BMA decided to make the school phone-free four years ago, based on data that shows a cell phone has an impact on cognitive performance even if it is in the same building as a person, and even if it’s turned off. “The brain is still connected to the device,” Rabbi Fein says. “If parents really want their child to have a phone for security reasons, they can sign a form that allows the child to leave it in the office when he or she enters the school.” Grade by grade, the school is working on encouraging parents to adopt the “Wait Past 8” policy that many schools are now espousing. The staff are allowed to keep their phones in school but have been trained to model healthy cell phone use; they should not be using them in classrooms or hallways, or during lunch or recess—only in the teachers’ room, removed from the children.

“We want to promote an intentional use of tech,” Rabbi Fein says. “People think the problem is the devices, but that’s like treating an emotional eating problem with pills. You have to change the mindset.” His school has created an initiative among parents called Hineni to get them on board to discuss healthy approaches to technology.

As of this past September, HALB Elementary School launched the “Smart Tech 1-2-3” program, a policy that states children cannot own a smartphone until the conclusion of fifth grade. From sixth grade and up, parents are mandated

to get together to decide the best path forward, with the goal of limiting the dangers of smartphones until an appropriate age. Additionally, no student in HALB Elementary School can have their own access to social media, and group chats were banned for younger grades.

The HALB Elementary School administration conducted a number of parental surveys and are engaging in ongoing education for parents regarding the challenges of technology. HALB had a series of meetings introducing parents to the research of Dr. Haidt.

While some would surmise parents might resist this kind of intrusion into home life, Rabbi Englander states that “approximately 90 percent of parents are begging for our help” with regard to technology and social media. “The most fascinating thing we learned is that parents wanted our involvement. Parents feel powerless against peer pressure,” he says.

In fact, HALB parent Daniella Cohen, who has a sixth grader, a fourth grader and a kindergarten child in the elementary school as well as one in high school, played a big role in getting parents onboard. She was tired of seeing her daughters’ playdates “revolving around the phones, posting and ‘liking’ each other's content,” she says. “The phones were becoming the focus of their lives; it was like an addiction among the girls. To me, their childhood was being replaced by phones, and it didn't look healthy.”

She realized the peer pressure had to stop. “When some of the girls have social media, everyone else has to have it.” No one wants to be excluded socially, so parents, she says, “felt trapped.” That’s why she welcomed the school stepping in. Even on the high school level, policies are changing. “While I don’t believe that right now the majority of Modern Orthodox

yeshivah high schools have a cell phone–free campus,” says Rabbi Arye Sufrin, head of school at YULA High School Boys’ Division, “from the conversations I’ve had with other heads of schools across the country, it certainly feels that that's the direction everyone is moving toward in a way that best fits their school community.”

For the past few years, YULA experimented with a “no cell phones in class” policy, which required students to deposit their phones in cubbies during class. It became clear over time that it was insufficient, says Rabbi Sufrin. “And from the research that we did as an institution, it was clear that cell phones were contributing to added anxiety and distracting students from being fully present.”

“We realized that curbing phone use in schools not only leads to better academic performance but also to less anxiety and less cyberbullying and is healthy for our children,” he says. “The driving factor has to be what is best for our kids, not just in their learning but in their development as people,” says Rabbi Sufrin.

YULA’s new policy, launched this past September, is simple: no devices on campus. The policy applies to all cell phones, including non-smartphones—like flip phones—as well as smart watches, iPods and iPads. Every student has a designated phone slot at the school entranceway. Staff members are assigned to take the phones and lock them away. At the end of the day, when the students leave, they can have their phones. Surprisingly, when YULA polled its students in an

Photo: Dovid Mittel,

Courtesy of HALB

optional poll, “there were more students who were excited about the policy than we expected,” says Rabbi Sufrin. He also stresses that the school did not simply impose the new policy on students, but worked hard to poll them, get feedback and communicate with them. In this way, the students felt heard and validated.

THE IMPACT

How have these no-phone policies impacted students?

Parents have told me they are eating dinner together. And kids are actually socializing at bar and bat mitzvahs, says Rabbi Shifman.

Rabbi Englander notes the very positive changes in the school. In the younger grades, where group chats are no longer permitted, “there’s been a big downturn in internetbased social problems.” In the past, younger kids, who often haven’t developed social graces yet, would invite one kid on a group chat, but not another, for a Shabbat playdate, things “we would never do as adults,” says Rabbi Englander. “Group chats were causing so much drama.” He’s glad his teachers are no longer busy dealing with those issues, and he sees that “behavior in school in general has improved.”

At HALB, in addition to having students not own phones until at least the conclusion of fifth grade, the school introduced “screen-free time” during the week to encourage students to spend more time with family, doing homework, socializing and playing outdoors. Participating students are entered into a raffle and prizes are distributed each week. The program, says Rabbi Englander, is wildly successful, especially among the younger grades. Parents, he says, are thrilled. “They don't have to fight with their children to put

away their screens; their kids are doing it voluntarily. I’ve gotten so many emails from parents, and so many parents have come up to me on the carpool line and said, “this [program] has changed our home life.”

Cohen has seen improvements as well. She finds that without the social media, her children have “a healthier relationship with technology, and playdates don't necessarily revolve around technology as much.” While she feels her twelve-year-old daughter’s grade was “on the cusp of it being almost too late” to introduce these changes since some of them already had smartphones and access to social media, “the biggest impact is going to be on the younger grades, where the goal is to delay purchasing smartphones entirely.”

Since the school has banned social media through eighth grade, Cohen says there has been some pushback from seventh and eighth graders who already had it. But, she says, as those grades enter high school, it’s going to be easier for the first through eighth graders because none of the students will have had social media to begin with.

Other schools have noticed positive developments as well. “We’ve seen some really beautiful things happening,” says Rabbi Sufrin. “There are more impromptu kumzitzes that students are just initiating during their free time.

“The school generally has kumzitzes,” he adds, “but usually when a kumzitz is over, everyone walks out and jumps on their phones. Now when a recent kumzitz was over, the students walked out and they brought out a speaker and started dancing. And that led to a new tradition at the girls school, which we now call ‘Freilich Friday.’

“What’s new is that when we have assemblies, the students are more focused on the program. What’s new is that the transition time in and out of class is more efficient and easier because they’re not distracted by their phones. What’s new is that they are just much more present and engaged,” says Rabbi Sufrin.

“While it’s still too early to see academic improvement, we are already seeing more meaningful friendships and relationships between peers, less anxiety, and more meaningful connections between staff and students. I’d venture to say,” Rabbi Sufrin concludes, “that over time we’re going to see more religious growth, because suddenly, when you’re in shiur or in a Chumash class, you’re more engaged and present in that experience. Hopefully the learning won’t just penetrate to ensure that students get a good grade in their Gemara shiur, but they will internalize their learning and . . . experience transformational growth. And that will elevate the entire institution, school environment and the entire community. If our teens are experiencing more spiritual and social-emotional growth, the impact will also be felt in our homes. I can’t imagine a world where we ever go back to allowing cell phones in schools.”

Leaving the Fold

The OU’s NEW STUDY PROVIDES insights into attrition

Why do people raised as Orthodox Jews leave Orthodoxy?

There is no simple, one-size-fitsall answer.

Claims about “the reason” people choose to leave are condescending; they assume that Orthodoxy is normatively obvious and that unless something goes drastically wrong, everyone raised Orthodox will stay that way. This kind of approach pathologizes ordinary life choices. And it ignores the vast complexity of human nature—the myriad psychological, intellectual, cultural and communal factors that inform every decision a person makes. People are not automata. The choices they make about how to lead their lives don’t follow like clockwork from a single, easily definable life event. Such choices are deeply personal, tied to each individual’s human identity and agency.

And yet, here I am, introducing an issue of Jewish Action devoted to attrition from Orthodoxy, writing as the lead researcher of a study that sets out to identify what factors play a role in people’s choices to stay in Orthodox communities or leave them and to explore the lives of those who leave, building a picture of what those lives look like from the inside.

Why bother?

To understand why we’ve embarked on this study, what we’ve learned, what we hope to learn and why the information matters, it’s worth taking a step back to examine the state of attrition from Orthodoxy in America. On the commonly used spectrum of “left-wing” to “right-wing” Orthodoxy (using these labels as descriptors without any value judgments attached), we might place Modern Orthodox communities

Dr. Moshe Krakowski is a professor of Jewish education at the Azrieli Graduate School for Jewish Education and Administration at Yeshiva University, where he also directs Azrieli’s doctoral program. He studies American Chareidi education and culture, focusing on the relationship between communal worldview, identity and education. He also works on curriculum, cognition and Gemara learning in Jewish educational settings.

Why Study Attrition?

By Dr. Moshe Krakowski

at the left end of the spectrum and Chassidic communities such as Satmar on the right end. Chabad, Yeshivish, Heimish, Centrist and other loosely defined groups (all of which can be further divided and dissected along numerous sociologic, religious and geographic axes) fall somewhere in between.

Every one of these communities is devoted to Jewish continuity. They build schools, shuls and batei midrash, create programing for adults and children, and work to reinforce religious and communal norms in culturally specific ways—all with the end goal of raising the next generation to maintain the traditions and beliefs that are at the heart of Orthodox Judaism. When those raised Orthodox don’t stay Orthodox, it is seen—and indeed deeply felt—as a communal failure, as if one of the central functions of the community itself is broken.

The Orthodox Union is devoted to the health of Orthodox Jewish communities. It devotes a great deal of effort to strengthening Orthodox life with education, resources and programming for teenagers, college students and adults. But this effort cannot be successful without a better understanding of what strong—and weak—Orthodox communal life looks like. Where are the cracks? What does it look like

when existing communal structures aren’t sufficient to support Orthodox constituents? What are the key features that support Orthodox communal continuity, and how do these features differ from one community to the next?

No single study can answer these questions on its own. But the study we’ve embarked on is a good first start. Studying attrition from Orthodoxy isn’t only important because it tells us something about why a particular person decided Orthodoxy wasn’t for him or her; it’s important because it tells us something about everyone else in the Orthodox world too—about our communities and their institutions, the people in them and out of them, and our religious (and sometimes less-thanreligious) lives.

The OU

Attrition Study

Our study has two parts. We’ve completed the first part and are now embarking on the second. This first stage of our study uses what researchers call “qualitative” research methods; the second part will use “quantitative” methods. Our qualitative work involved interviewing twenty-nine “leavers” from Orthodoxy. We asked them to talk about their lives and experiences in great depth—the average interview length was well over an hour. We selected these interviewees so that they covered the gamut of locations across the country, including every type of Orthodox community we could think of. We were aiming for breadth, not representativeness; that is to say, we were interested in capturing as many different leaving experiences as possible, rather than figuring out which of these experiences are the most common. This is part of what makes qualitative research and quantitative research different from one another. In a qualitative study, numbers aren’t that important—we’re not super concerned

with questions like “how many . . . ?” “what’s the average . . . ?” or “what percentage are . . . ?”

We’re concerned with the qualities of people’s experiences.

Why do we do both types of research?

Because they tell us very different things.

One way to illustrate the difference is by analogy with cars.

When those raised Orthodox don’t stay Orthodox, it is seen— and indeed deeply felt—as a communal failure, as if one of the central functions of the community itself is broken.

Imagine you wanted to know which car accelerates faster and which brakes faster: a Tesla Model S or a Toyota Camry. To ensure that you aren’t subject to one or another quirk in a particular car, you might take every hundredth car off the factory line for both models until you have fifty of each, accelerate and brake them, and take the average. That’s quantitative.

But what if you wanted to know why one or the other was superior? How many cars would you need?

Just two. You would open up the engine of both and explore exactly how the Camry engine works and how the Tesla works. Once you had a model of how the different pieces fit together—how a gear connects to a shaft, how the pistons are powered, the electric system and battery or the gasoline combustion—you would begin to understand how and why one car performs better and make predictions about how each car will operate under different conditions. If you sampled more models from different companies, you might come up with a handful of different prototypes for how a car engine can work, a typology of car types: two types of pure battery engines, two pure gasoline, three types of hybrid engines, et cetera.

Building conceptual models of this kind is central to all research. Well before a drug makes its way to Phase 3 trials, researchers spend years in the lab building models of how a molecule might interact with a

particular protein or the impact of one bacterium on another. Only once they have a sense for how and why things work do they actually test whether that conceptual model matches the reality in the human body (which will always be more complex than the simplified lab environment).

This part of our study sought to build models in exactly this way. By talking to people from a wide range of backgrounds and ages about their lives, we started to piece together an understanding of the mechanics of those lives. What kinds of experiences did “leavers” have? How did those experiences impact them? How were those experiences different in different communities and how were they the same?

Some Important Things We’ve Learned

At the end of the day, we still can’t tell you how prevalent any one of the models we’ve built is—the same way we couldn’t tell you whether there are more Camrys than Teslas by just looking at two cars. But we have achieved a deep

THE “OTD” COMMUNITY: NOT NECESSARILY REPRESENTATIVE

In recent years, the term “Off the Derech,” or OTD, has gained popularity as a descriptor for individuals who leave Orthodox Judaism. Very few participants [in this study] consider themselves members of the “OTD” community. Only 14 percent identified as OTD and another 17 percent said they had some affiliation with the OTD community. This is significant as the OTD community is probably the most recognizable and well-known community of leavers, and facts about that community tend to shape the public’s perception of people who leave Orthodoxy. They may not represent a very large proportion of those who leave, however.

The popularity of the term OTD has been fueled by narratives portrayed in memoirs, reality television and the news media, which generally portray the Orthodox community as stifling and cult-like. These narratives capture a sense of loss, displacement and trauma, and their protagonists champion their own resistance to conformity, societal norms and expectations, factors that tend to garner wide public interest. But these stories are hardly typical and tend to amplify the salacious and the scandalous at the expense of representativeness, catering to the feelings of superiority held by outsiders.

This is not meant to challenge the truth of these accounts. Far from it. We are not calling into question the lived experiences of those whose lives have been so vividly captured in these accounts. But they represent only one small slice of reality; the range of experiences of those who leave Orthodox Judaism is much, much, larger than what is captured in the media and pop culture. Because these accounts attract a great deal of attention, many people recognize the OTD prototype reflected in these accounts but may be missing out on the varied and disparate voices and experiences that exist along the broad spectrum of leaving Orthodoxy. . . .

Our goal is to try to capture voices and experiences from all segments of Orthodox society who have left Orthodoxy. We aim to develop a more robust and wide-ranging understanding of the different ways and reasons people leave Orthodoxy.

Adapted from the OU’s Center for Communal Research study, “Attrition and Connection in American Orthodox Judaism.”

Indeed, one heartening— and surprising—element of our interviews was the warmth and positivity many of the subjects felt toward the Orthodox community.

understanding of how this group of people’s lives developed as they grew up and out of Orthodoxy.

This understanding has helped us identify some of the features that may act as levers and gears in the personal, communal and religious lives of those raised Orthodox—the experiences that push and pull them in different directions.

Some of our findings are covered in other essays in this issue, and many more can be found in the full report. But it’s worth highlighting here how unexpected some of our findings were—a testament to the value of this qualitative approach. Answers to the fixed choices that appear on a survey, such as those used in quantitative research, only allow us to learn about things we’ve already thought of. That’s why those choices are on the survey to begin with: to test known hypotheses. This approach leaves little room for fresh insight; it leaves us still not knowing what we don’t know. By getting to know our subjects as individuals and letting them speak for themselves, we learned things about their experiences that were completely different from the preconceived notions we had before speaking to them. We also learned that some of these preconceptions fell short: our subjects did not emphasize things we might

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have expected them to (for example, almost none of our subjects singled out the impact of their college experiences or their year in Israel as important in their life stories).

Responses on surveys also tend to be one-dimensional. For example, if someone is asked to rate his or her feelings toward the Orthodox community on a scale from positive to negative, it may be hard to capture complex, multifaceted emotions. Indeed, one heartening—and surprising—element of our interviews was the warmth and positivity many of the subjects felt toward the Orthodox community. Without negating their sometimes significant criticism, participants often expressed appreciation for the strengths of the Orthodox community and feelings of closeness to it. Those of us who are invested in Orthodox continuity would do well to understand the features of Orthodox communal life that result in strong attachment even by those who have left. Assessing the strengths and weaknesses of our communities requires honesty about what goes right as much as what goes wrong. We need to better understand where these profound positive feelings come from.

Another finding we had not anticipated was the enormous emphasis our subjects placed on the impact religious authority figures,

particularly rabbis, had had on their life trajectories—both for good and for bad. In a cohort of twenty-nine people who left Orthodoxy, it was amazing how often, completely unprompted, we heard the refrain, “there was this one rabbi who . . . .” The end of that sentence was inevitably something horrible or something wonderful, never in between. Religious authority figures played a critical role in our subjects’ lives, sometimes traumatizing them forever and causing them to tar the entire Orthodox community with the “crimes” of the rabbis, and sometimes creating durable bonds such that despite the subjects’ distance from Orthodoxy, they appeared to glow when discussing these figures. If we think of people’s lives in terms of the gears and levers that move them, religious authority figures are most certainly an important lever.

Likewise, one of the most consistent themes in our interviews was something we hadn’t even thought of when we started this research and that to our knowledge has not been discussed in any of the previous literature on this subject. When we reviewed the interview transcripts and systematically coded them for themes, we noticed that our participants all experienced some form of religious or communal misalignment in their lives. Some were raised in homes that were more, or less, religiously observant than their school or

community. Others grew up in families that were simply religiously different from their school or community (for example, Chassidic versus Yeshivish), or in families where the parents themselves were religiously different from one another. Still other participants were simply culturally different than those around them due to a different geographic or cultural background.

This particular finding may have implications for how we think about our communities and our schools.

Communal Differences

This kind of qualitative study isn’t designed to pick up trends specific to different communities. Still, a number of interesting differences among communities jumped out at us as particularly noteworthy and worth looking at more closely in the second part of our study.

Participants who grew up in more Chareidi environments tended to have sharper breaks with Orthodoxy and to report experiencing more abuse and trauma than those in more modern communities. Conversely, participants from more modern communities were more likely to drift away, didn’t report trauma to the same degree, and were much more likely to report concerns about the role of women in Orthodoxy or the treatment of LGBT community members. When we showed our initial results to different focus groups made up of experts in a variety of fields (such as psychology, youth groups or kiruv), those who predominantly worked with Modern Orthodox communities immediately connected to the “drifting away” story, while those who worked with Chareidi communities connected to the stories of trauma.

Some of these experts suggested that while Chareidi communities may sometimes feel too rigid and confining,

Modern Orthodox communities may feel too open. If the boundaries aren’t clear, it may be much easier for community members to slowly leave.

The Next Stage

How many people leave Orthodoxy from different types of communities? Are the rates different “in town” and “out of town”? At what age do people generally leave? Are there factors in leaving that tend to cluster together? Are people who leave different in some important ways than people who stay?

These are the sorts of questions that can only be answered with a large quantitative study. We intend to survey eighth-grade Orthodox day school graduates who graduated over the span of fifteen years. To find these students, we randomly selected Orthodox schools around the country (representing all the major subdenominations of Orthodoxy) and are currently compiling alumni lists. Using statistical techniques that help us group people into categories by looking at commonalities that tend to cluster together (in this case, something called “latent class analysis”), we hope to better understand the elements in these graduates’ lives that may play a role in staying in or leaving Orthodoxy.

Of course, as I noted at the very outset, we will never be able to declare definitively, “here’s why Rivka left Orthodoxy”—nor is that our purpose. But we might be able to identify meaningful patterns that indicate risk factors and protective factors. For example, there are plenty of people who are misaligned with their schools and not only stay Orthodox but become even more committed to Orthodoxy than they started with. Nonetheless, a quantitative survey of this kind might reveal that misalignment is still a risk factor for leaving. If the same person also has parents who underwent rapid

As part of the study, OU researchers consulted with various professionals, including psychologists, rabbis, college campus professionals, Jewish communal professionals and educators, who shared valuable insights during focus groups (anonymity was assured out of respect for the privacy of the focus group participants). Some of their reflections along with the perspectives of those interviewed by Jewish Action are shared in the sidebars in this section.

Some names throughout the cover story have been changed to protect individuals’ privacy.

POROUS BOUNDARIES

Rabbi Moshe Benovitz, managing director of International NCSY and the longtime director of the NCSY Summer Kollel who has been working with Modern Orthodox youth for more than thirty years, does not view attrition as a teen problem, but rather as a communal problem. “If we’re going to have a real conversation about attrition among teens, we have to talk about attrition among some adults.”

While Rabbi Benovitz admits we don’t see too many “adults leaving the community,” he feels it’s often not due to their strong religious commitment, but rather because “it's really, really hard to leave your community at the age of thirty-eight when you have four kids.”

Rabbi Benovitz maintains that we can’t “discuss the experience of teens without acknowledging the experience of their families.” Similarly, another educator commenting on the study noted that in some families, there is “little difference between observance and non-observance” as “the boundaries [are] so porous.”

Making a similar observation, the study notes that sometimes leaving the Orthodox community cannot legitimately be called attrition. “For some Modern Orthodox participants,” the study states, “it may not be fair to suggest that they experienced any radical change. Their families’ observances lay so close to the borders of Orthodoxy that their current non-Orthodox life choices cannot really be considered a real departure.”

religious change, and this person experienced abuse, we might say that he has many risk factors. Does that mean he will leave Orthodoxy? Of course not. The range of factors that go into any individual’s life choices are vast. But someone with those risk factors may be more likely to leave than someone without.

Conversely, we may find protective factors in those who remain Orthodox. The support of a close religious mentor, together with a high sense of personal self-efficacy (the personal confidence and belief that one is able to achieve his or her goals), might be enough to protect some people from the possibility of leaving.

At this stage, we can’t really identify the magnitude of any particular risk factor or protective factor. What I’ve suggested above may be reasonable, but until we run the survey it will remain an educated hypothesis. We’ve learned a tremendous amount about the lives of people who leave and the features of Orthodoxy that matter, but there’s still much more to do.

In the meantime, based on our work so far, there are plenty of pragmatic takeaways—things everyone can do now to facilitate healthier, stronger Orthodox communities. We can educate rabbis and other religious authority figures about their critical role in people’s religious lives. We can pay attention to and support people who experience misalignment in their religious lives. Communities and schools can rethink how rigid or open they are around religious norms and expectations, especially when it comes to students and community members who may be misaligned in some way.

The participants in this study showed enormous grace and generosity in sharing their personal stories with us, and we are deeply indebted to them. Their willingness to talk about their experiences has allowed us to reach insights that would not otherwise have been possible, to the great benefit of the communities they left behind.

Readers can access the full study here: https://research.ou.org/research/.

The OU study identifies several key factors that may play a role in Orthodox attrition. It also sheds light on the many different ways people leave, and the very different meanings leaving holds for participants of the study. In this issue, we focus on one theme that played a role in the lives of all the “leavers”: misalignment.

Fully 100 percent of the study’s interviewees described some form of serious misalignment while growing up, whether religious, social or political. Many of these misalignments were centered around family and were especially salient when families experienced religious shifts or the family’s religious observance differed from communal and school norms. We hope to explore various aspects of misalignment—specifically related to home and school—in this cover story.

The article that follows explores a rather radical form of misalignment between parents’ form of religiosity: when one parent is religious and the other is not. It also illustrates how some couples choose to navigate such marriages and preserve their family life despite their dramatic religious differences.

Parenting on Different Pages

Parental religious misalignment—when a husband and wife have varying levels of observance and faith—is not exactly an unknown phenomenon in the Orthodox community.

Some couples are already on different spiritual pages when they marry. But most of the time, the misalignment represents a shift that catches one spouse off guard when the other alters his or her commitment to Yiddishkeit—either by becoming more religious or less religious, or by abandoning religion altogether. Whether that change happens gradually or suddenly, it inevitably transforms the landscape of a marriage that began on common spiritual ground.

Tzippy B. was in shock when her husband revealed, soon after their second child was born, that he no longer believed in G-d. The couple had been religiously in sync when they wed in their early twenties and started a family in their Upstate New York Chassidish community. She recalls, “I worried I’d lose control over my kids’ spiritual life if we divorced, that they

Merri Ukraincik has written for Tablet, the Lehrhaus, the Forward and other publications, including Jewish Action. She is the author of a book on the history of the Joint Distribution Committee.

By Merri Ukraincik

would end up eating treif with him. But we’ve stayed together because, baruch Hashem, our relationship is loving and solid and we want to be a whole family.”

In the OU study on attrition, conducted by the Center for Communal Research (CCR), the OU’s research arm, various

types of misalignments—including parental religious misalignment—stood out when they appeared unexpectedly among “several key factors that may play a role” in Orthodox attrition.

Dr. Moshe Krakowski, professor at the Azrieli Graduate School of Jewish Education and Administration at Yeshiva University, is the lead researcher in the study. His team interviewed twenty-nine people ages eighteen to thirty-four with backgrounds spanning the Orthodox spectrum to identify the roots of their decision to leave

the frum community. A forthcoming quantitative study of 3,000 participants will help determine which factors are representative of the broader community of “religious switchers,” which is how the study refers to those who leave Orthodoxy.

“More than half of the study participants identified some type of religious shifting—either sudden changes in family observance or parental misalignment—as an element in their life journey,” says the principal researcher at the CCR, Dr. Rachel

S THE ROLE OF TRAUMA

ara, who came from a Chareidi family, suffered serious trauma as a child. She grew up with a brother who had a challenging mental illness and terrorized the whole family. “Shabbos and yom tov were especially hard because my brother would get out of control . . . my mother and I had to leave the house as we were afraid he would hurt us.” Sara endured ongoing trauma as her parents’ marriage unraveled and she served as a “parentified child,” a child who takes on parental responsibilities, in this case caring for her mother mentally and emotionally. Today Sara no longer considers herself Orthodox.

Psychologists who work with the Chareidi community tended to point to “trauma” as a leading factor in Chareidi attrition.

One professional working with this community noted that in his experience, “sexual and learning trauma” (difficulty with school) were the two biggest factors leading to attrition.

“Understandably, the therapists we spoke with are seeing high instances of trauma because those who suffer from trauma tend to seek out therapeutic help,” says Dr. Rachel Ginsberg, principal researcher at the OU’s CCR. “So, it makes sense that those are the cases they are seeing. However, at this point we can’t say with certainty that trauma is a key factor only in Chareidi attrition [as opposed to other parts of the Orthodox community]. We need data from a representative survey to understand the prevalence of trauma among the different Orthodox communities.”

Rarely does one single reason sway an individual to abandon Orthodox Judaism. Multiple experiences, not all dramatic or harrowing ones, precipitate the act of leaving.

Ginsberg. Quite possibly, experiencing religious shifting created a small fissure in their religious life. Still, she wonders. “Since they themselves may not know the answers, it’s hard to say exactly how or why the misalignment led them to question their beliefs.”

Rarely does one single reason sway an individual to abandon Orthodox Judaism. Multiple experiences, not all dramatic or harrowing ones, precipitate the act of leaving. When people do attribute it to one particular factor, it’s usually abuse or trauma, including educational trauma [see the sidebar on page 69], and sexual, physical, emotional and religious abuse.

“There’s no absolute causality either,” notes Dr. Krakowski. “No if X, you will go off; if Y, you’ll stay. There are teens who stay frum despite abuse or trauma or whatever else the world throws at them. And there are those who have a safe home environment and loving, religiously aligned parents who nonetheless leave religion behind. Humans are complicated. It’s never a simple story.”

Rabbi Yitzchak Breitowitz, senior lecturer at Yeshivas Ohr Somayach in Jerusalem and Jewish Action’s rabbinic advisor, believes that on its

own, parental religious misalignment does not have to result in Orthodox attrition. “It is possible to raise religious children in these circumstances, if you’re modeling for them how to love a different kind of Jew. It conveys that Judaism is a system for real life.”

A spiritual mentor to thousands of Jewish women worldwide and founding director of Core Torah, an organization that supports women who engage in klal work, Aliza Bulow is open about the fact that she has struggled with this kind of divergence in her own marriage. After she and her husband, Ephraim, suffered the tragic losses of a son and two grandchildren, he felt he no longer believed in G-d, nor could he practice as a frum Jew. “Still,” she says, “we are honest and accepting of one another. I understand his pain and look for my religious fulfillment elsewhere. We work well together despite our differences because we have deep respect and love for each other, and we made a choice to continue that.”

Rabbi Breitowitz believes that these factors—a healthy marriage and stability in the home—are key. “They make it more likely the children will stick with Yiddishkeit than abandon it when they grow up,” the religious misalignment notwithstanding.

Family Ties

We humans may be complicated, but it comes as no surprise that we thrive on love, connection and security. Conversely, we struggle in their absence.

The OU study confirmed that a parent’s rapid religious transformation often results in tension, confusion and feelings of disjointedness that can upend the atmosphere at home. In one example, a participant recalls the dramatic change in his mother’s behavior after a weeklong kiruv experience. “She’s wearing a snood, she makes my dad stop off to pick up chalav Yisrael milk. She basically came home a different person.” One that her husband and children didn’t recognize. That sudden religious shift caused an irreversible strain between his parents, who eventually divorced. And yet not all such marriages dissolve. Quite a few of those interviewed for this article are committed to preserving their unions and maintaining a healthy, secure home environment, despite the extreme religious differences between spouses and the significant challenges involved.

But how does their decision to make it work impact their children?

Over a forty-year period, social psychologist Dr. Vern Bengtson conducted the largest-ever lineal study of religion with 2,400 individuals across multiple generations. In Families and

There are teens who stay frum despite abuse or trauma or whatever else the world throws at them. And there are those who have a safe home environment and loving, religiously aligned parents who nonetheless leave religion behind. Humans are complicated. It’s never a simple story.

Faith: How Religion Is Passed Down Across Generations (Oxford University Press, 2013), he shares his conclusion that the preservation of faith lies in the strength of family ties.

It follows, then, that “Mesoras haTorah is not passed down through rules or a book,” states Rabbi Shimon Russell, a therapist well known for his work with young people who leave the Chareidi world, generally as a result of some kind of trauma. Although there is no data-based evidence that healthy ties with a parent can compensate for the religious confusion that arises when one parent is religious and the other is not, Rabbi Russell feels that “the transfer of mesorah happens via relationships and healthy emotional attachment” and that “a strong kesher with frum people can inspire you to want that life, too.”

Take Zehava, for example, a Chareidi mother of five living in Israel, who says that accepting what is beyond her control has been the core strength

THE TIME IS ALIYAH:

of her misaligned marriage. While struggling with several personal challenges, her husband, Zvi, slowly lost his faith. Instead of giving up on their relationship, however, the couple committed to working on it—for themselves and for their children.

“It’s definitely getting trickier as our kids get older and ask harder questions about why their father doesn’t learn or daven,” she says. “But they see how important Hashem and frumkeit are to me, and I hope that will make up the difference. Zvi appreciates the Torah values that center on family, so we avoid the negatives and focus on creating a warm, stable home.”

Leora grew up in a home where the opposite was true. She was twelve when her parents’ marriage fell apart after her mom became disenchanted with Yiddishkeit. Her dad was given full custody because of the presumed support they’d have from an established frum community, while her mom moved hours away to start over.

“My father lacked the emotional capacity and financial resources to care for me and my siblings, and no one stepped in to help,” Leora recalls painfully. “What he did have was a temper, which evolved into neglect and abuse. Our visits with Mom felt lavish, though she also had little money. We’d eat at Wendy’s and she’d dress me in clean, new pants and I felt so loved. From that perspective, the non-frum life looked wonderful, and Hashem didn’t smite me down as my father threatened He would. As soon as I could, I left the community, too.”

Rabbi Russell has counseled many families like Leora’s that experience dramatic religious misalignment, most often with one parent remaining frum and the other leaving Orthodoxy entirely. Yet he, too, believes it is not inevitable that the offspring will follow the parent who abandons Yiddishkeit. He asserts that “the misalignment itself won’t cause attrition, though it can destabilize the home environment if the parents are fighting over religion— especially if the marriage is already

rocky or there are compounding challenges, like trauma or mental or physical illness. Instability makes it terribly difficult for a child to develop the healthy emotional attachment critical to establishing real connection in Torah.”

Dr. Benzion Sorotzkin, a clinical psychologist who works primarily within the Orthodox community, sees many individuals who have left observance behind. “For those who may attribute their exit in part to their parents’ religious misalignment, it’s really the anger and negativity erupting around it. They conflate G-d and Torah with those tensions, which destroys any longing to be a part of that system. Yet few can make that connection on their own.”

Making Misaligned Marriages Work

Rabbi M., who requested anonymity because of his sensitive work with families in crisis and “religious switchers” of all ages, posits that in his experience, “religious misalignment plays a relatively minor role in a marriage if there is mutual understanding between spouses. With the investment of much hard work, the

couple can even thrive, despite the fact that one spouse has walked away from Orthodoxy.”

In about 20 percent of the cases of religious misalignment Dr. Sorotzkin sees, the partner who is emotionally disconnected from Judaism continues to practice on some level for the sake of the family and to remain in the community. He describes it as “a decision not to sacrifice relationships for a lack of faith.” For example, a nolonger-frum father might stop putting on tefillin, but will continue taking his children to shul on Shabbat.

Though Chaim, who lives in Israel with his wife Shaindy and their three children, is no longer frum, he says, “It’s what our kids know, so I play the role. I value Yiddishkeit for them, and I believe they’ll be happiest living a beautiful Torah life. I admit, though, that it’s especially hard for me now, during the war, not to feel G-d pulling the strings.”

Shaindy says they’ve chosen to put the health of their family and relationships above their religious differences. “When I light candles, I daven for three things for my husband, children and myself: mental and emotional health, middot tovot and the strength to be ovdei Hashem—in that order because you need the first two to have a genuine relationship with G-d.”

Not everyone is comfortable going through the motions. Should a nonreligious partner choose not to practice at all, the arrangement can still work if

Continued on p. 64

S THE ROLE OF THE RABBI

What the study reveals about relationships with religious figures

eeing an unexpected element appear repeatedly in a research study is always a fascinating occurrence, and in the case of the OU study on attrition within the observant Jewish community, numerous participants mentioned one factor over and over again as they shared their life stories despite never being asked about it at all.

That factor?

Their interactions with rabbis.

“This wasn’t something we looked for,” observed Dr. Moshe Krakowski, professor at the Azrieli Graduate School of Jewish Education and Administration at Yeshiva University and the study’s lead researcher. “It wasn’t something that was built into the interview. It came up organically.”

In fact, a four-page section of the report titled “It’s Hard to Overstate the Importance of Rabbis” details multiple positive and negative experiences shared by the study’s participants, all of whom volunteered the information on their own. While more than half said their experiences with rabbis were positive, some negative experiences were also reported by more than half of the study’s participants, with some admitting to having mixed interactions—both positive and negative—with rabbis.

“Those interactions are very significant for people and hold a lot of weight,” observed Dr. Rachel Ginsberg, the study’s principal researcher. “If you are a rabbi or a teacher, understanding this will affect the way you interact with others, the way you approach your relationships and the way you comport yourself.”

Even seemingly small interactions with a rabbinic figure can have a profound impact. Leaving Orthodoxy seemed like the obvious choice for Shlomo, who realized early on in his life that he had same-sex attraction. With its emphasis on marriage and building a family, the Torah seemed to have been written for everyone but him, however Shlomo, who shared his story with Jewish Action, was sure that if he revealed his struggles, his rabbis would reject him. Yet over time, Shlomo realized that Orthodoxy resonated with him more than any other branch of Judaism. Seated next to a Chabad rabbi from Michigan on a plane, Shlomo had what he called “a really big G-d moment.”

“He told me that Judaism isn’t all or nothing, and I’ve actually started keeping more Shabbat again,” said Shlomo. “I’ve been learning to feel more like I fit in.”

In the study, the term rabbi is used more loosely and refers to anyone in a position of religious authority. It encompasses communal leaders, heads of school, rebbetzins, teachers (both of limudei kodesh and secular studies) and mechanchot, among others.

One participant in the study described his rabbi as “my rabbi, my friend, my father, my brother, my therapist, my home, my everything.” Another shared how he felt when a noted community rabbi, with whom he had always shared a bond, drove two and a half hours each way to come visit him in a rehab facility.

“The level of impact from rabbis and religious figures is tremendous,” observed Dr. Ginsberg. “I don’t think people realize how powerful these experiences are.”

Continued from p. 60

he or she invests in the non-theological benefits of the system. Rabbi M. says, “They may no longer observe, but if— out of love—they commit to what they signed up for under the chuppah, that’s teaching the children the frum value of menschlichkeit.”

Either way, unity among the parents is critical. So is recognition of their individual and shared challenges, though if it is tolerance, not support, the kids will pick up on the difference. Couples therapy is recommended for help in mapping out (and over time, revising) and implementing a family plan. The family might also want to consult with a rav

Rabbi Breitowitz encourages couples to participate in community events together. To the non-frum parent he recommends attendance at school programs. “Show up because it’s your spouse or child, even if you don’t feel it spiritually. They’ll remember how good it made them feel.”

When Things Fall Apart

women who choose to remain in their religiously misaligned marriages. Some stay because they still have loving relationships with their husbands. Others make do in “pareve” marriages after weighing the risks of divorce.

A traditional fifty-fifty custody split can be extremely confusing for kids who attend yeshivah or day school and know only one way of life. They might end up shuttling between a shomer Shabbat environment and a non-kosher one with a Christmas tree in the living room.

OU Board member and former Jewish Action Editorial Board member Deborah Chames Cohen, a family attorney who has seen many cases of religious misalignment in her practice, strongly recommends that if the couple separate, they maintain the kind of upbringing the children are used to. “But the non-frum party is often so angry with Judaism, they grab the freedom to do their own thing instead. Today’s legal system tends to let parents make their own independent religious choices. It’s considered better for the kids to experience diverse lifestyles.”

Bulow posits, “A frum parent doesn’t want their kids exposed like that, nor do they like the idea of them pingponging back and forth between homes. If everyone is safe and there is no

hostility, it’s easier to provide religious consistency and general stability when the family is all under one roof.”

As for couples who cannot make it work, Chames Cohen says, “An all-out religious war often breaks out after they file for divorce. Where will the kids go to school? How much orthopraxy is required of the non-frum party when the kids are with them?”

Ari D. and his now ex-wife, who both live in Florida, were happily married for a decade when he discovered she was no longer religious. “She had a breakdown, and I learned she’d been living a double life.”

Their divorce dragged on for three years, during which he took full responsibility for all aspects of their children’s lives—tuition, therapy, their spiritual upbringing. “I don’t know what exactly goes on when the kids are at their mother’s house,” Ari says. “But at home, I show them the beauty of Judaism, keeping it light and fun. I want them to see that they aren’t missing out on anything, that being Jewish is a joy and a privilege.”

In cases of misalignment, Chames Cohen usually advocates for collaborative law, a dispute resolution process that lets the parties reach a settlement without going through a lengthy battle in court. “Because it’s solution-based, not winner-based, it sends a message that both parents are prioritizing the needs and emotional well-being of the children. Sometimes you can bring in a rav so the religious decisions aren’t left to the whim of a judge who doesn’t know the nuances of Jewish life.”

Mastering Return

As the rav of an outreach, kiruvoriented community, Rabbi Yitzchok Oratz, director of the Monmouth Torah Links community in New Jersey, often engages with couples where only

Aliza Bulow maintains two private WhatsApp support groups for frum

one spouse becomes a ba’al teshuvah, yet another kind of parental religious misalignment with its own set of challenges. It, too, can be a huge jolt to the family system.

The transition is smoother when it’s the mother who becomes frum, since she tends to set the tone for the household. But Rabbi Oratz says in his experience it’s more often the father, who is suddenly busy with his religious obligations while asking for huge changes at home. The other spouse and the children may feel confused, left out, resentful and overwhelmed, especially if the spiritual shift was not undertaken by degrees.

Rabbi Oratz invests a lot of energy in helping ba’alei teshuvah navigate this new world in a way that safeguards a functional family with healthy emotional attachments. He strongly suggests that the person undergoing change be extremely sensitive to the family members who aren’t. “I tell them that sometimes it’s better they stay home with their wife and kids than to show up to every minyan at shul.”

Rabbi Oratz cautions how important it is for a newly frum parent to remember how immersed in the secular world their kids are. “Frumkeit is a culture shock for them, so give them space. Make Yiddishkeit geshmak. Show love. When that happens, I find they often join the parent or parents on their spiritual journey. But don’t force them to do something just because you suddenly do. You’ll suffocate them and turn them off entirely.”

Another thing he recommends is to model the sociological benefits of Torah life. “If religion is stressing you out, you won’t win it any new fans. Demonstrate how it makes you more patient, kinder, more understanding. The point isn’t to make the other family members frum, rather to preserve, even strengthen, the relationships.”

Case in point. Rabbi Oratz likes to share the story of a father in his community who became a ba’al teshuvah. The daughter followed; the wife did not. Yet he made every effort

to consider her feelings and value her concerns. He never compromised their marital relationship for the sake of a halachic stringency. The happy outcome was that when their daughter married last year, it was her mother who proudly took the kallah sheitel shopping.

Love, in fact, can make all the difference.

When Ronit and Steve got married, neither was religious. Yet they decided to send their eldest daughter to a Modern Orthodox day school, more for the benefits of Jewish identity and community than religious education. At the age of four, she refused to get into the car on Shabbat. Ronit recalls, “We knew that for her to succeed in that environment, we’d have to change our lifestyle.”

Ronit took to it more easily. It’s been harder for Steve, although he loves what having a shomer Shabbat home has given their family. “Our girls read Hebrew, are comfortable in their Jewish skin and frum in their own way.” After thirty years of living an observant life, however, Steve still struggles with aspects of it, like the high cost of tuition, and not being able to go places on Shabbat, especially since he now works from home and feels stuck in the house all week.

“He might just get back into the car on a Saturday morning once our youngest is out of the house,” says Ronit. “Even if he does, it wouldn’t break our marriage, because I have so much gratitude for all he’s done to create this life for our family.”

A Starting Point

There is no easy, one-size-fits-all solution to the challenge of attrition from Orthodoxy.

While there is no data on this just yet, experts who work with “religious switchers” believe that love and its attendant middot—respect, sensitivity,

patience and understanding, in enormous quantities—are the starting point. They open a door to resolving whatever personal crises led them to leave the community, to healing, to solid emotional intelligence and healthier neshamot.

Bulow reminds us that “there have always been Jews on their own path, choosing to observe or not. Yiddishkeit is a multigenerational story of people weaving in and out of their relationships with G-d and halachah and one another.”

Think about the surge in Jewish pride among non-observant, assimilated Jews in the wake of October 7. Then there’s Leora, who, twenty years after giving up Shabbat, returned to Yiddishkeit and made peace with her father when she was ready to marry and start her own family.

Or look at the history of immigration to the US at the turn of the century, when Jews tossed their tefillin into the harbor by the thousands. Bulow says, “I’ve met a lot of their great-grandchildren in my work. Some are frum. Some even lead Pesach kiruv programs to bring disconnected Jews back to Yiddishkeit And yes, others are absent from the Seder table entirely, though we pray they will find their way back.”

Dr. Ginsberg points out that “we usually talk about the switching crisis in terms of in or out, attrition or connection. But our study has also shown us that while our respondents have left Orthodoxy, many of them haven’t severed their connection with Judaism.”

Indeed, our story is not over.

By S. Schreiber

S When School and Family Don’t Match

he comes from a Modern Orthodox family and attends a strict Bais Yaakov.

He’s in a Chassidic yeshivah, though his family has been Sephardic for generations. She doesn’t want her classmates at a Modern Orthodox high school to know her family is Yeshivish.

Their observance and hashkafot may differ widely, but these three students have something important in common: the experience of school misalignment.

In the OU study of people who have left Orthodoxy, twenty-two out of the twenty-nine participants reported experiencing a “misalignment” between themselves or their families and the schools they attended. They described having to “constantly negotiate their religious identities,” performing for an audience of teachers and peers at school while adopting a different lifestyle at home. The feeling of hypocrisy this engendered—and “secondary consequences” such as bullying from peers—eventually became a factor in their decision to leave the community.

Misalignment, as defined by the study, can manifest in many ways, says Dr. Moshe Krakowski, professor at the Azrieli Graduate School of Jewish Education and Administration at Yeshiva University and lead researcher in the study. “Even if your family is more religious than the school, there’s a sense of disruption. My family is saying I have to do this or that, but my school doesn’t require it. So does all of this really matter?”

Misalignment can also be academic. Six of the study’s participants described being in a school that did not accommodate their learning styles, and Jewish educators say that kind of mismatch is pervasive—and damaging. [See the sidebar on page 69.]

While schools may be tempted to blame parents (and parents, schools), the causes of misalignment are complex and varied. Many educators, therapists, parents and former students who have dealt with the issue describe misalignment as an unavoidable reality of life. “It’s nobody’s fault,” Dr. Krakowski says, noting that parents often don’t have access to schools that fit their family’s values exactly. “Kids have to go to school.”

The negative consequences of misalignment, however, can often—with some foresight, perspective and planning—be avoided.

S. Schreiber is a freelance writer.

Holding Kids to a Higher Standard

Growing up in the early 1990s in New City, a small town north of Monsey, Jordan Soffer watched two of his siblings graduate from a Conservative day school and move on to a Modern Orthodox high school where all students were expected to be shomer Shabbat. Their family wasn’t Shabbat observant, but, Soffer recalls, his parents never considered that an issue.

“I don’t think it crossed their minds,” says Soffer, now head of school at Striar Hebrew Academy in Sharon, Massachusetts. “At the time it was quite common for families to send to Orthodox schools while knowing that they were living very differently. Our next-door neighbors were doing the same thing.”

Soffer’s parents and their contemporaries wanted their children to learn about their heritage. While they respected Jewish law, they didn’t feel the need to reinforce every lesson at home. This scenario still exists today: 11 percent of Jews who identify as non-Orthodox send their children to a yeshivah or day school, according to Pew’s 2013 report (this figure includes non-Orthodox day schools). Frustration with public schools during the Covid-19 pandemic, and, more recently, the Jewish awakening after October 7, have led more non-Orthodox parents to consider a day school education for their children.

Parents should prioritize having the school values aligned with the family values and with the child. …All too often, people are more interested in schools as a status symbol. It’s a social symbol; it’s part of your identity.

Mixed Messages

“The school tells you: you have to wear knee socks or tights, but my Mom is walking around [barelegged] in flip flops,” says Miriam who grew up Orthodox but no longer considers herself part of the community. “It is better [for a school] to have no hashkafah than the wrong hashkafah,” she says.

Miriam’s experience mirrors that of many who participated in the study. Participants described that they or their families were either more religiously “right-wing” or more religiously “leftwing” than their school or community, and therefore had to shift their religious identity depending on the context, or else stand out as radically different. Rabbi Glenn Black, CEO, NCSY Canada and Torah High, says the “deep inconsistency” between what happens at home and what happens in school causes confusion. “A school will say ‘no social media,’ but at home, there is social media,” explains Rabbi Black. “A school will say don't go to these kinds of movies, but the parents will take the kids to those kinds of movies.”

Aside from the religious mixed messages, the study states, this kind of misalignment can also lead to bullying, rejection or social isolation.

In a related phenomenon, parents who are becoming more observant may choose a school with more stringent religious standards in the hope that the family will “grow into it.”

Alice came from a family that did not observe Shabbat and attended synagogue only a few times a year. But when her father began the process of becoming a ba’al teshuvah

he immediately moved her, a third grader at the time, into an Orthodox day school. “I came with background that was really a lot different than the other kids,” she says. “I remember being extremely self-conscious that I didn’t know a single prayer that my friends were singing out loud.” The move from a Conservative day school to an Orthodox one required a massive academic and social adjustment, one for which she was woefully unprepared.

Like Alice, a large percentage of the OU study’s participants came from families where the parents had made “significant changes” to their religious practice, often becoming extremely observant very quickly.

But misalignment between school and home is common in Orthodox families as well, says Erin Stiebel, director of NCSY’s GIVE summer program. Among the diverse crowd of Modern Orthodox teenage girls who join her to spend a summer volunteering in Israel, Stiebel has noticed change. “Our program gets girls now from schools to the right of the schools we used to get girls from. Everyone is sending to the right, and it keeps moving,” she says. “The parents put their children into a school that’s to the right of the family because they want to hold their children to a higher standard.”

Even small differences in religious expectations—short sleeves versus three-quarter-length—can be destabilizing for her students, Stiebel notes. But witnessing their parents change their behavior depending on the circumstances is much more disturbing. She recalls a former student who came to her crying on the last day of the program because her

Misalignment: A Positive Factor?

Can misalignment be a positive factor in religious development? This question, say the researchers, requires serious additional study. Parents may send children to schools that are more religious with the express purpose of exposing those children to a more religious environment. Could there be an equal number of people, not found in our study of “leavers,” who were inspired to stay religious because of misalignment? Only the larger survey of leavers and non-leavers can answer this question.

parents were planning to take her on a cruise where it would be impossible to keep kosher or observe Shabbat: “She said, ‘It’s too confusing for me. I don’t want to go.’ Her parents put her into a black-and-white, boxed world, but what she saw at home was so different. And today she’s still confused.”

“Relationships Are Probably the Biggest Thing”

Some degree of misalignment may be inevitable, but parents should do everything they can to avoid it, says Yaakov Mintz, educational advocate at Work At It, an organization that provides support and career counseling for Jewish youth who have not found success in conventional educational settings. “Parents should prioritize having the school values aligned with the family values and with the child,” he says. That can sometimes mean weighing the needs of the child against hashkafic considerations. Mintz notes that families are often hesitant to choose “alternative” schools even when their children would benefit from them, because of the perceived stigma attached to that choice. “All too often, people are more interested in schools as a status symbol. It’s a social symbol; it’s part of your identity,” he says. “Parents should think really hard about where they send their kids to school—not what that means for them socially, but what their individual child needs.”

Once parents choose a school, communicating respect for the school’s values is key, Stiebel asserts. “I don’t think parents intend to give

negative messaging, but sometimes they do. It’s as simple as a newsletter coming home and the parents scoffing about the way things are written,” she says. “The inconsistency and the lack of partnership is really confusing for kids. They have to feel that their foundation is stable.”

That feeling of stability may come from a figure outside the family as well. Soffer, who is currently writing his EdD dissertation on non-Orthodox children attending Orthodox schools, points out that not all children react negatively to religious misalignment. “What’s fascinating to me is that people have radically different experiences. Some people experience it as a tension that needs to be resolved, and some people don’t even experience it as dissonance,” he says. “For them, it’s just two spaces with two sets of rules. Do I feel a tension between sitting in a library and sitting at a football game? In one place I’m quiet, and in the other place I’m loud. So am I a loud person or a quiet person? It’s just two separate scenarios.” While it’s difficult to predict how a child will react to misalignment, there are a few telling indicators. “In my experience, relationships are probably the biggest thing,” says Soffer. “Is there someone you can point to as having created space for this experience [of misalignment] to be okay? Usually that person is a teacher or a rabbi.”

In fact, all the participants in the OU’s study reported that their relationships with rabbis and other religious authority figures were critical to their development and sense of identity, many citing it as the “single most important factor in their relationship to Orthodoxy.” Thus, it would seem that a caring, compassionate teacher or rebbi could help a child navigate the challenges of school misalignment, while a critical, punitive teacher or principal could have the opposite effect.

Making A Place for All Children

Temimah, a fourteen-year-old from a large Jewish community in the Northeast, found herself struggling with Hebrew. Stumbling over words in the siddur was not only deeply humiliating for her in class, it was a factor in her leaving the Orthodox community. “I couldn’t read Hebrew, so I was seen as ‘not a good kid’ . . . . Since I wasn’t considered a good kid anyway, I felt I might as well stop being frum,” she explained.

Temimah’s experience highlights a broader issue of academic misalignment—the challenge of meeting the academic expectations of one’s environment. In the OU study, this struggle was a contributing factor for leaving for six of the participants. Many of them later recognized, or were diagnosed with, ADD or ADHD. One psychologist noted how many of the at-risk youth he sees were driven away from the community due to the fact that there were “significant learning disabilities that were never addressed.”

“One who is not good at catching a baseball is not going to be particularly interested in playing baseball,” explained an educator. “So someone who's not good at reading a siddur or opening a religious text is not going to find a lot of enjoyment when they're asked to analyze a passage of Chumash.”

“Learning trauma,” a term introduced by educational researcher Dr. Kristin Olson, describes the emotional impact of harmful or damaging practices inflicted upon students by teachers and administrators. This type of trauma was evident among some of the study participants. One individual talked about how his academic struggles and inability to succeed in school contributed to his mental wellbeing, “I had a lot of depression, anxiety, a lot of stuff like that growing up, and ADD for sure played a big role in that.” Another described the frustration he felt about the way traditional testing was misaligned with his way of demonstrating academic proficiency in school: “They didn't recognize the . . . neuro divergent . . . whatever that term is. They did not recognize that I was not processing information the same way . . . . I held all the information, but if you wanted it from me right there and then, I probably was not going to give it to you. . . . let me do my thing, and I will get you all the information you need.”

Learning trauma can also result in a sense of nonbelonging. “Given the fact that there’s so much emphasis on education [in our community] and schools are by definition social structures,” explained a psychologist. “If they're not making it, there's nothing holding on to them at all.”

A Fine Line for Schools

On paper, the school Mrs. T. and her husband had selected for their daughter was perfectly aligned with their family’s values—a rightwing Yeshivish school in northern New Jersey. But when her daughter brought in a book to read at recess that was deemed inappropriate by the school administration, the family found itself in a struggle that escalated quickly.

“They turned it into a discipline issue, and then she acted out more because of the way they were treating her,” Mrs. T. says. Soon her daughter was having trouble conforming to the school’s dress code. Mrs. T. describes the administration’s response as “bullying” and “shaming.” “There were times they would call me, and I would hear my daughter crying hysterically in the background,” she says. “It became very traumatic.”

Religious schools must walk a fine line to maintain their desired level of observance, while promoting their students’ well-being. “Schools and communities should think carefully about how they communicate social and religious norms and expectations,” the OU study authors write, noting that in very liberal communities, young people tend to drift away from Orthodoxy because of a lack of clear boundaries. “A complete absence of these expectations may lead people to leave, but extremely rigid expectations, or intolerance of the violation of social norms, may also lead people to leave.”

Many religious schools try to avoid misalignment struggles by implementing rigorous admission processes. But these, too, can backfire. “When I first moved to Monsey, I found there were school [administrators] that were visiting the homes before they even accepted the child to the school,” says Mindy Reifer, principal at the Adolph Schreiber Hebrew Academy in Rockland County. “The parents were presenting a front, saying to the children, ‘We have to pretend, so that you can go to this school.’”

One might think that in large communities with many schooling options, the problem of misalignment would be alleviated. Ironically,

The inconsistency and the lack of partnership is really confusing for kids. They have to feel that their foundation is stable.

moves. Unable to find a school that would accept her daughter, Mrs. T. eventually opted to send her to a nonJewish program.

“A place in the Jewish community for all our children”

however, schools in such communities may be so intent on differentiating themselves from the competition and upholding their own religious or academic standard that they are unwilling to risk admitting a child who has struggled in another school.

More than a third of the OU study’s participants said they had switched schools over the course of their education, usually leaving mainstream schools for institutions that catered to at-risk youth. Few of them reported positive changes as a result of these

Short of completely reforming the school system, Mintz works with teachers in mainstream schools to help them make all their students feel welcome. “You can have students who are completely misaligned with the school, but if the school is aware and accepting of it, they can create a program that will keep them in the community,” he says.

For academic misalignment, that might mean a less rigorous track that creates space for music instruction or woodworking; for students coming from different religious backgrounds, it might mean programming to help parents learn and assimilate the school’s religious standards. “Schools’

number one goal should be to make a place in the Jewish community for all our children,” Mintz says. “That should come before academic achievement or any other benchmarks that we set.”

Community schools, which open their doors to all Jewish children in a particular locale, have misalignment built into their mission statements.

Adolph Schreiber has carved out a place for itself in Monsey’s diverse and expanding community by taking on that role, with a student body that includes everything from right-wing Modern Orthodox to “ex-Chassidish” families where Shabbat observance isn’t a given. Reifer, principal of the boys’ division, notes that while the school never compromises on halachah, she sees diversity as a bonus rather than a threat.

“Because it’s so diverse, people kind of accept that what every person does is good for them, and they’re not as quick to judge,” she says. “It works more globally. If you have some kids putting on a tallis, and some kids wearing a black hat, and some kids just putting on tefillin, and it’s all accepted and we’re all friends, I think it gives kids more flexibility to say, wait a minute, maybe there’s a place for me in the fold and I don’t have to look outside of it.”

Every Child as an Individual

The consequences of misalignment—a blanket term that covers a vast array of experiences—ultimately depend on the individual child who encounters it.

Alice’s family eventually became fully observant, but Alice’s feeling of displacement persisted throughout her schooling. She spent her elementary school years struggling to fit in, and her high school years arguing with teachers and rabbis. “Educators are sort of biased in their mission. They want you to leave this institution holding a certain set of values. They didn’t see me as an

lthough many formerly Orthodox individuals participating in the study voiced criticisms of the Orthodox community’s approach to LGBTQ individuals, this subject did not emerge as a major factor in most respondents’ decision to leave Orthodoxy. However, it was a factor in leaving for three out of the four study participants who identify as part of the LGBTQ community. Feminism emerged as a significant factor in leaving for those who grew up Modern Orthodox, but not for those raised within other sectors of the Orthodox world.

individual with individual needs,” she says. After graduation, she opted not to attend seminary, and today no longer considers herself part of the community.

For Soffer, misalignment took a different turn. His two elder siblings had been miserable in their Orthodox high school, so his mother sent him to a

Conservative one. “It turned out not to be a good fit for me,” he says wryly. “By ninth grade I was already becoming more religious.” At one point, Soffer was threatened with expulsion for insisting on a traditional minyan rather than an egalitarian one, but support from a teacher he respected helped him

through the experience.

Now a head of school himself, Soffer said he handles misalignment on a case-by-case basis. “The moment we try to dictate norms, we have a problem,” he says. “We have to look at every child individually.” And as the parent of a teenager, he adds, “We can’t control children. The biggest blessing we can give children is loving them deeply, no matter how they’re expressing themselves.”

“IT’S NOT ALL OR NOTHING”

Idon’t keep Shabbat, but I host Friday night dinner.”

“There are things that I enjoy about Judaism, and those are the things that I celebrate.”

“I’m doing the parts of Judaism that bring me joy.”

These statements, from different participants in the OU study, point to a surprising finding: “leavers” often maintain a strong connection to Orthodoxy.

In fact, the study found that many formerly Orthodox individuals have ties to Judaism generally and to Orthodoxy specifically. “Aspects of their identities remained Orthodox, they expressed positivity about many aspects of Orthodox life and they continue to see the world in ways influenced by Orthodox values and beliefs,” states the study. While 25 out of 29 of the interviewees had at least some positive things to say about the frum community, a few made “strikingly heartfelt positive comments about Orthodoxy.” Only four formerly Orthodox individuals expressed outright animosity towards Orthodoxy.

What this demonstrates, says Dr. Rachel Ginsberg, principal researcher at the OU’s CCR, is that “the experience of leaving [the community] is not binary. Very often, connections remain that are real, important and personal and shape people’s lives. It’s not ‘you’re either in or you’re out’; that’s not how we should be viewing ‘leavers.’” Indeed, a single mom interviewed by Jewish Action who does not consider herself Orthodox expressed a similar idea: “Judaism is not all or nothing,” she says, explaining that she observes the laws that she can, especially when her children are around.

Formerly Orthodox individuals will frequently maintain friendships with Orthodox members of the community. One interviewee explained that all her “closest friends today are still Orthodox,” even though she herself no longer is. Lea, who was interviewed by Jewish Action, is part of the LGBTQ community and is no longer part of the Orthodox community. Nevertheless, she still frequents her old neighborhood, a thriving Jewish community on the East Coast, connecting with friends and family. On occasion, she will attend her Orthodox shul where she is greeted warmly.

“Those who are raised in religious environments tend to hold on to their religiosity in various ways even after

leaving,” explains researcher sociologist Dr. Nadia Beider, in her article entitled, “Religious residue: The impact of childhood religious socialization on the religiosity of nones in France, Germany, Great Britain, and Sweden.”

Indeed, religious practices still have meaning for some “leavers.” More than three quarters of participants described having fond memories of certain traditions and therefore continue to observe them, such as hosting a Pesach Seder or attending a megillah reading on Purim. Almost half of the participants spoke about attending shul; one talked about feeling G-d during davening. Another described attending a Reform service at his daughter’s school and finding it deeply uncomfortable because he grew up attending an Orthodox shul.

Some leavers are drawn to the sense of community in the Orthodox world, with one describing it as “warm, caring and tight knit.” Another felt the “frum world does a lot better with . . . tzedakah and bikur cholim and all these organizations.” Still another stated, “[the Orthodox] do community better than anything.”

Feedback from formerly Orthodox Jews—positive and negative—can be very instructive, say researchers.

“As parents, we should be intentional about creating positive associations with traditions and holidays and to ensure they are taking place in a loving and happy way,” says Dr. Ginsberg. Such experiences, she explains, can leave a lasting impact, as evident from those who continue to observe certain rituals long after having abandoned the Orthodox community.

The positive feedback, she says, should encourage the Orthodox community to “learn from the things we are doing right” and then leverage those lessons to “improve the areas in which we can do better.”

What is perhaps most fascinating is that a few leavers still identify as Orthodox in some ways despite having left. “I think Orthodox Judaism is the strongest, the most potent means to ensure Jewish continuity,” said one participant, “and in that sense I’m still part of the Jewish community and the Orthodox community.”

Megillat Ruth Mesorat HaRav

Wintman Family Edition

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik’s commentary on Megillat Ruth and the Torah readings of Shavuot, compiled and edited by Reuven Mohl. Included as well is a section of Reshimot – the Rav’s halachic explorations related to Shavuot and Torah study. Megillat Ruth Mesorat HaRav oﬀers fresh insights into the texts and the holiday of Kabbalat haTorah.

The

Family Edition

Birkon Mesorat HaRav The Wintman Edition

Megillat Esther Mesorat HaRav

Return to Zion

Chumash Mesoras HaRav Neuwirth Edition

Blessings and Thanksgiving

Gladys Neustadter z”l Edition

The Levovitz Edition

Karasick

OU ISRAEL INAUGURATES NEW HEADQUARTERS

Marking New Chapter of Growth and Expansion

Hundreds of friends and supporters of OU Israel, including distinguished political leaders and families impacted by the war, attended OU Israel’s inauguration of its new headquarters in Yerushalayim’s Har Hotzvim neighborhood. Held in February, the event signaled the beginning of a new chapter for the organization, reflecting its remarkable expansion in recent years. “The inauguration of our new headquarters represents a major milestone in implementing our organizational strategy to strengthen our work with at-risk teens and support English-speaking olim in Israel,” said Executive Director of OU Israel Rabbi Avi Berman. Attendees included OU President

OU Israel presenting Mayor of Yerushalayim Moshe Lion and Mayor of Sderot Alon Davidi with miniature olive trees in appreciation of their commitment and dedication to the residents of Israel and their partnerships with the OU.

Left to right: OU Executive Vice President and Chief Operating Officer Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph, Sderot Mayor Alon Davidi, Yerushalayim Mayor Moshe Lion, OU Israel President Stuart Hershkowitz, OU President Mitch Aeder, OU Israel Executive Director Rabbi Avi Berman.

OU Director of Anglo Engagement and Programming Esti Moskovitz with OU Israel Board Member and NCSY Israel Board Chair Yigal Marcus and his wife, Caryn.

Mitch Aeder, OU Executive Vice President and Chief Operating Officer Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph, OU Israel President Stuart Hershkowitz, and Rabbi Avi Berman. President of Israel Isaac Herzog shared a pre-recorded message commending the organization for its growth and expansion. One of the most emotional moments of the event was when Chani Shlomo, widow of fallen officer Adir Shlomo, hy”d, from Sderot, delivered remarks. Shlomo spoke about the support OU Israel has provided her son, Liav, a participant in the OU Israel Teen Center in Sderot, since his father’s death in the October 7 attack.

Left to right: Jerusalem Foundation President Arik Grebelsky, Mr. Hershkowitz, Owner of Mishpacha Media Group Eli Paley.

The mezuzah-affixing ceremony was led by the Chief Rabbi of Tzfat Rabbi Shmuel Eliyahu, who expressed his appreciation for OU Israel’s long-standing partnership. From Left: Moshe Lion, Rabbi Eliyahu, OU Israel Chief Operating Officer Natan Kandler (back) and Rabbi Berman.

Ms. Moskovitz addressing the crowd.

Just Between Us

Readers are invited to use this forum to express personal views and address issues of concern to fellow Jews. Send submissions to ja@ou.org.

IT’S OKAY TO EAT BY YOURSELF ADVICE FROM A WIDOWER

By Efraim Jaffe

Afew days after shivah ended for my wife Esther, a”h, I was back working at my home office desk. My children and siblings had returned to their homes. I sat alone and looked out the window and listened to the birds singing. The death of a spouse is strange and disorienting, like getting shot out of a cannon and landing on a distant planet. Esther’s health had declined over the past years, and the end came, as Hemingway once said, “gradually, then suddenly.” Episodic cognitive decline, then total dementia in the last few months, and finally, pneumonia. When she passed away, I went instantly from 24/7 caregiver to independence.

A thought crossed my mind: I could get in my car now and go to a movie, or to the Black Hills of South Dakota, or anywhere, and nobody would know.

After forty years of marriage, the freedom was at times exhilarating, but when I came home, nobody was waiting

for me. The house was as quiet as snow. I wasn’t prepared for this—how could I be?

Looking back a year and a half later, heading to Los Angeles for my son’s wedding, and mindful of the two granddaughters Esther never met, I’m gathering my thoughts.

Silence was a relief when shivah ended, but wandering past empty bedrooms where my siblings and children slept the week before, I felt like I was seeing ghosts in the house. Our family had shared memories, and an awareness that life was moving forward in mysterious ways.

I returned to work part time, but I didn’t have the energy or enthusiasm to return to my Torah-learning routine. The following week I forced myself to start learning again. I sat across the table from my chavruta in shul feeling like he was in the normal world and I was in an alternate reality. I trusted that my old habits would anchor me going forward. Don’t wait too long to resume old habits. The longer you wait, the harder it will be. Expect that it will be difficult at first.

Back in my college years, I had wandered through Europe and Africa on my own and loved the solitude of

new settings or staring out of a train at the passing countryside. But now I wasn’t used to a long Sunday afternoon by myself, eating alone and watching families passing by outside. Waves of loneliness I’d never experienced overcame me. A friend’s mother told me that when her mother had died in middle age, her father was so lonely that he’d go to the library every day, just to be around people. I started doing that, and it helped. Even the company of complete strangers, with zero interaction, eased my loneliness. I kept telling myself that this is normal. I’ll make it through this. And I did. I came to empathize with all the lonely people in the world. Expect to feel lonely. To break the feeling of isolation, don’t hesitate to go to a store, the library, the mall, anywhere, especially if you work from home.

A therapist friend gave me good advice: keep talking. I’m not the kind of person who talks about himself. But I made an exception. I told my friends and family when I was sad, or lonely, or grateful that Esther’s (and my) suffering didn’t linger on. I spoke to a therapist every week for a while, even when I didn’t feel like it or think I needed it. Putting vague thoughts and feelings

Efraim Jaffe is an independent certified financial planner. He recently remarried and splits his time between Passaic, New Jersey, and Great Neck, New York.

into words helps to transform the amorphous into the tangible. Thanks to all who listened. Keep talking.

I’d often heard that yamim tovim are the hardest time for widows and widowers. The Jewish holidays are milestones, with memories layered on from year to year. Sadness sets in, a longing for what was. I went to my brother and sister-in-law for every yom tov, even though local families offered to host me. This was like comfort food for the soul. Consider spending yamim tovim with family.

I’m inclined to go to extremes. Without anyone observing my habits, I could descend into a nightly HäagenDazs ritual and end up weighing 300 pounds. Nobody would be around to make me feel foolish. And while I had already become the shopper and the meal planner, once Esther was no longer capable, the easiest way would be to buy prepared food and mindlessly eat in front of the computer. So I threw all the processed food out of the house and ate only primary foods, and I took walks in

the park every day. I saw it as essential for my mental and physical health. I hadn’t walked much for months, and at first I tired easily, but I stuck with it and even lost twenty pounds. Proactively make healthy lifestyle changes.

“You can’t be by yourself!” I was told by someone who invited me for Shabbat meals. The year after Esther died, I accepted invites for every meal. I thought it was healthy to get out and mingle. But sometimes I just wanted to be home. After a year, I started turning down invitations occasionally and eating alone. I didn’t even bother to cook; I ate matzot with cream cheese and lox and took a nap. Don’t let people tell you what to do. It’s okay to eat by yourself.

“Wipe that smile off your face,” a community member told me as I sat shivah. “You’re disrespecting your wife’s memory.”

I had confided to this person that I felt conflicting emotions, both despair and relief, at Esther’s passing. My face must have reflected this ambivalence. After his comment, I wondered: had my mourning

veered off track? But I concluded that I needed to express what and how I really felt. Expect a range of emotions. Don’t worry about others’ definition of proper emotional decorum.

I didn’t want to be pitied as a “widower.” I’ll admit that sometimes I secretly resented people inviting me, although I appreciated their generosity. I wanted to be anonymous. I wished things would go back to the way they were. I also felt guilty that I was in the world and Esther was not. I tried to practice acceptance. G-d has a plan.

Accept what cannot be changed.

I recently learned that in Parashat Vayechi, after Yaakov Avinu was reunited with Yosef in Mitzrayim, his final seventeen years were the best years of his life. Something resonated. Every stage of life, even profound loss, has its beauty. If anything, Esther’s demise taught me to appreciate life even more. Try to believe that the days ahead are full of possibilities.

WHAT’S THE TRUTH ABOUT. . .

A DAIRY MEAL ON SHAVUOT?

By Rabbi Dr. Ari Z. Zivotofsky

MISCONCEPTION: It is a time-honored custom to eat a milchig (dairy) meal on Shavuot.

FACT: The original Shavuot dairy custom, apparently first recorded in the thirteenth century, was to precede one of the Shavuot meat meals with some dairy. A full dairy evening meal seems to first be mentioned in the late nineteenth century, and dairy daytime meals likely appeared in the twentieth century.

Background: In the Mishnaic period, the custom was to have a considerable amount of meat on Shavuot. This is evident from the fact that in the course of discussing the prohibition of slaughtering an animal and its offspring on the same day (“oto ve’et beno”; Vayikra 22:28), the Mishnah (Chullin 5:3 [83a]) notes that there are four days in the year with particularly high meat consumption necessitating one to inform a purchaser if an animal’s mother or offspring had been sold that day: erev Rosh Hashanah, erev Simchat Torah, erev Pesach and erev Shavuot. Clearly, in the Mishnaic period, Shavuot was a day of heavy meat consumption. The reason meat was consumed on Shavuot in the Mishnaic and Talmudic periods, and the reason many of the codifiers (e.g., Magen Avraham 529:3) maintain that one should eat meat on Shavuot nowadays, relates to the mitzvah

Rabbi Dr. Ari Z. Zivotofsky is a professor of neuroscience at Bar-Ilan University in Israel.

of “ simchat yom tov ”—being joyous on the holiday. This Biblical commandment is derived from the verse “You shall rejoice on your festival ( vesamachta bechagecha ), you, and your son, and your daughter . . .” (Devarim 16:14). The Sefer HaChinuch (488) says the mitzvah applies to both men and women in all times and in all places.

Chazal explain how to fulfill1 this obligation (Pesachim 109a):

It was taught in a baraita: A person is obligated to bring joy to his children and household members on the holiday, as it says, “vesamachta bechagecha.” With what does he gladden them? With wine. Rabi Yehudah says: men with what is appropriate for them and women with what is appropriate for them. Men with wine and women with what? Rav Yosef taught: in Bavel with colorful clothing and in the Land of Israel with pressed linen clothing. It was taught in a baraita: Rabbi Yehudah ben Beteira says: when the Temple exists, there is no simchah except with meat [of sacrifices] . . . and now that there is no Temple, there is no simchah except with wine.

A straightforward reading of this passage would seem to imply that the requirement to eat meat only applies to sacrificial meat, and that today, when unfortunately, there are no sacrifices, men fulfill the obligation with wine and meat is not relevant. This appears to be the position of the Beit Yosef (OC 529; Shulchan Aruch OC 529:1). However, Rambam (Hilchot Yom Tov 6:17–18 and mitzvat aseh 54), quoted by the Tur (OC 529), opines that although the essence of the Torah’s commandment is to eat sacrificial meat, in the absence of sacrifices there is still a mitzvah to eat meat on yom tov, 2 as he writes: ein simchah ela bebasar ve’ein simchah ela beyayin there is no simchah except with meat and no simchah except with wine.3

Tosafot (Moed Katan 14b s.v. aseh) say that nowadays, in the absence of sacrifices,4 the mitzvah of simchat yom tov is only rabbinic. The Sha’agat Aryeh wrote that even today (he lived in the 1700s) it is Biblical (except for the first night of chag when it is rabbinic [siman 68]), although not necessarily fulfilled via consuming meat (siman 65), and women are obligated in simchat yom tov as well (siman 66). The Darchei Teshuvah (YD 89:19) reports hearing the Divrei Chaim say that the Sha’agat Aryeh’s logic (siman 65) was not convincing and that one is required to eat real meat on yom tov. The Biur Halachah (529: s.v. keitzad) says that in the absence of the Beit Hamikdash, there is no obligation to eat meat, but if one does so, he fulfills a mitzvah.

The Torah Temimah (Devarim 16:63) deduces from the Talmudic language of

“ein simchah ela bebasar” rather than “ein simchah ela beshlamim” that even in the absence of the Beit Hamikdash there is a mitzvah to eat meat, and in the Talmudic period the sacrifice was the means to fulfilling this requirement. The statement in Pesachim that today simchah is with wine means that when there were sacrifices, meat alone sufficed, while today wine is needed in addition to the required non-sacrificial meat. Maharshal (Yam Shel Shlomo, Beitza 15b [2:5] p. 113, 2021 ed.) similarly said that it is patently obvious that meat is a central component of simchah, and that post-Churban (destruction of the Beit Hamikdash), wine was added to help overcome the sorrow of the exile.

The majority opinion seems to be that even today meat is required, and according to most authorities, this means mammalian meat, not fowl or fish.5 Others, such as Yad Ephraim (YD 1, s.v. ela im kein) and Rabbi Ovadia Yosef (Yechaveh Da’at 6:33) say that fowl may suffice.

The above applies to all yamim tovim. Regarding Shavuot, the Gemara (Pesachim 68b) says that despite the general debate regarding how to balance feasting and spirituality on yom tov, on Shavuot it is obligatory to have a component of feasting. To illustrate this, the Gemara mentions Rabbi Yosef’s practice of having the best calf prepared for his Shavuot meal.

Notwithstanding the ancient practice of eating meat on Shavuot, mention of a custom to have milk, or milchig, on Shavuot6 is at least 800 years old. The thirteenth-century Rabbi Elazar of Worms, the Rokeach, reports that on Shavuot his great-uncle ate cheese, then ate bread dipped in wine to clean his mouth, and then immediately ate meat (Derashah L’Pesach, 5766, p. 39; cf. p. 110). Also in the thirteenth century, Rabbi Avigdor HaKohen of Vienna (teacher of Rabbi Meir of Rothenburg; Perushim U’Pesakim L’Rabbeinu Avigdor Tzarfati, p. 478, 5756 ed.) finds an allusion to dairy on Shavuot from Bamidbar 28:26 in which the initial letters of the middle three words spell chalav (milk).7 The thirteenth/ fourteenth-century Kol Bo (52; p. 218

in 5769 ed.) and Orchot Chaim (ed. 5769, p. 103) mention a custom to eat honey and milk on Shavuot because the Torah is compared to honey and milk (Shir Hashirim 4:11).8 The Maharil (d. 1427; Hilchot Challah, par. 7; Machon Yerushalayim 5749 ed., p. 85) mentions this custom in passing, and the fifteenth-century Leket Yosher (Hilchot Yom Tov: 35; p. 235, 5770 ed.) cites his teacher the Terumat Hadeshen as eating fish fried in butter on Shavuot (as well as requiring mammalian meat for simchat yom tov).

The Rema (d. 1572; OC 494:3; see Machatzit Hashekel 494:7) writes that some9 locales have a custom to precede the Shavuot festive meat meal with dairy on the first day10 of Shavuot. He suggests a rationale11 that is not intrinsically related to dairy but is rather a pretext for two loaves of bread: by having dairy followed by meat, one will be required to eat two loaves of bread, which in turn commemorates the “Shtei Halechem” that were brought in the Mikdash on Shavuot (Vayikra 23:15–22). (This is because after eating dairy, leftover bread must be removed and new bread used for eating meat [Shulchan Aruch, YD 89:4; Iggerot Moshe, YD 1:38].) This aligns with the concept that each holiday postChurban includes a remembrance of the Temple service for that holiday. On Sukkot the lulav is used all seven days, on Pesach there are two cooked foods to remember the Pesach and Chagigah sacrifices, and on Shavuot we remember the Shtei Halechem

Subsequently, the custom of dairy on Shavuot is widely attested to,12 with endless reasons being proffered and a vast literature analyzing it.13

The Mishnah Berurah (494:12) quotes a reason in the name of an anonymous “gadol.” He says that when the Jews went home after receiving the Torah and learning the rules of kashrut, they had no kosher meat and thus ate dairy, and on Shavuot we commemorate that.

It is evident from the descriptions in the Rema and Mishnah Berurah (494:14) that the custom they were familiar with was not a milchig meal but a milchig appetizer followed by a meat meal, without bentching but

merely switching tablecloths (Magen Avraham 494:6; Mishnah Berurah 494:16). As Rabbi Yitzchak Yosef (Yalkut Yosef, Moadim, OC:13: Hilchot Chag HaShavuot:16, 5748, p. 444) summarizes:

“Our custom is to eat some dairy, and after kinuach (cleaning the mouth) and hadachah (rinsing the mouth) as required,14 we eat meat. And it is a mitzvah to eat mammalian meat on yom tov.”

Rabbi Moshe Sternbuch (Moadim U’Zemanim, 8:319 [pp. 79–80]) suggests that pre-Sinai, milk was prohibited because of eiver min hachai (see Bechorot 6b), and to demonstrate our appreciation that dairy became permitted with Matan Torah, on Shavuot dairy is eaten.

The early-twentieth-century American Rabbi A.L. Hirshovitz (Otzar Kol Minhagei Yeshurun, 1918, p. 185) suggests that milchig is the food of the modest, even ascetic, who make do with little, and the custom of dairy serves as a reminder that this trait should be adopted, as it will enable one to successfully cling to the Torah, which was given on Shavuot.

The Klausenburger Rebbe (Rabbi Yekusiel Yehudah Halberstam, d. 1994) suggested (Shefa Chaim [5768] 1:102:4) that a possible reason for eating milchig on Shavuot is that it is in the zechut of accepting the Torah on Shavuot that we merited the Land of Israel, a land flowing with milk and honey.

The custom of having dairy followed by meat on Shavuot became a deeply rooted tradition that raised halachic challenges. Some argued that it was too risky, and suggested abolishing the dairy custom.15 Others felt it was so significant that they were willing to introduce leniencies to simplify having both dairy and meat on Shavuot. Kol Bo (quoted in Ba’er Heitev 494:8) says that one need not wait a full six hours between meat and milk on Shavuot; Rabbi Menachem Mendel Chaim Landau reports (Vaya’as Avraham, p. 333) that his grandfather (Rabbi Avrohom Chiechanover, d. 1875) told him that if he had napped, he could eat dairy on Shavuot even if fewer than six hours had elapsed since he ate

meat;16 the Rema (YD 97:1) permitted baking a small amount of dairy bread; and, as noted, Magen Avraham waives the normal requirement of bentching between milk and meat. Most posekim disagree and say that all normal rules regarding separating milk and meat apply—and this is the normative position. The Aruch HaShulchan (OC 494:5) warned against these leniencies.

Kitzur Shulchan Aruch 103:7 and Ba’er Heitev (494:8) advise caution so as not to violate any prohibitions while fulfilling this custom. Iggerot Moshe (OC:1:160) and Kitzur Shulchan Aruch (46:11) say it is preferable to bentch between the dairy and meat. Peri Megadim (Eishel Avraham, OC 494:6) says Shavuot is no exception and one must wait the usual time after meat or hard cheese before dairy or meat respectively.

This custom is now taken so seriously that it has generated detailed questions.

Shu”t Mekadesh Yisrael (Rabbi Y.D. Harfenes; 5758) was asked: Is it sufficient to have milk or cheese or must one eat a dairy mezonot? (siman 70); must one eat dairy on the second day of yom tov? (71); if one will be unable to eat both dairy and meat, which takes precedence? (72); and (73) may one eat a meat meal at night and then have only a milk meal in the day?

Most of the suggested reasons are relevant irrespective of whether there is a full dairy meal or dairy and meat consecutively at the same meal. However, the fact that the sixteenthcentury Rema gives the Shtei Halechem reason, a reason that only works if dairy precedes a meat meal, indicates that at least for the first 300 years of this custom it did not involve a dairyonly meal. By the late nineteenth century, Darchei Teshuvah (YD 89:19) knows of a custom to eat a dairy meal at night and meat during the day, and he disapproves of it because he thinks there is a mitzvah of simchah at night as well.

All of the many reasons for milchig notwithstanding, many of the codifiers (e.g., Magen Avraham 529:3; Darchei Teshuvah, YD 89:19; Biur Halachah 529 s.v. keitzad) opine that to fulfill the mitzvah of simchat yom tov, one

should (also) eat meat on Shavuot. After summarizing all the issues in a comprehensive discussion, the Darchei Teshuvah (YD 89:19) suggests that one should have meat meals both at night and during the day, while fulfilling the dairy custom by having a dairy “kiddush” (without bread) after davening, waiting an hour (and cleaning the mouth), and then eating the main yom tov meat meal.

Based on the Gemara in Pesachim, wine is also an important component of simchah nowadays. The Mishnah Berurah (529:11) states one should drink wine in the middle of the yom tov meal in addition to the wine of Kiddush at the beginning of the meal. Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (Iggerot Moshe, OC 3:68) implies that one should have meat and wine every day of the chag, including Chol HaMoed. Rabbi Yaakov Kamenetsky (Emet L’Yaakov, 529: note 483) is quoted as saying that it is commendable to have wine at every yom tov and Chol HaMoed meal (grape juice counts) and meat (not fowl) each day of yom tov and Chol HaMoed (and even if one does not particularly enjoy meat).

Rabbi Moshe Sternbuch (Moadim U’Zemanim 1:29, Teshuvot V’Hanhagot 5:153) disagrees with their position regarding Chol Hamoed. He says that on yom tov (but not Chol HaMoed) there is an obligation to have a meal (i.e., with bread) that includes meat and wine; in addition, on yom tov and on Chol HaMoed one fulfills the mitzvah of simchah by doing what brings him to simchah, whether it be meat, chicken, fruits, wine, grape juice, hiking, singing, dancing, et cetera. There is no specific frequency or obligation, but when done, it fulfills a mitzvah, as does bringing joy to one’s wife and children.

The Torah implies, and Rambam says it explicitly, that there is another component to true simchah. The pasuk that teaches the mitzvah of simchah has an important ending (Devarim 16:14): “And you shall rejoice on your feast; you, and your son, and your daughter, and your servant, and your maid, and the Levite, and the stranger, and the fatherless, and the widow, that are within your gates.” It is clearly not just referring to your family and

friends. Rambam says (Shevitat Yom Tov 6:18): “When a person eats and drinks [on yom tov], he is obligated to feed converts, orphans, widows and others who are destitute and poor.”17

But a person who locks the gates of his courtyard and eats and drinks with his children and his wife, without feeding the poor and the embittered, is not engaged in simchah of a mitzvah, but rather in the simchah of satisfying his own appetite. Regarding such a person, the verse (Hoshea 9:4) states: “Their sacrifices will be like the bread of mourners, all that partake thereof shall become impure, for they kept their bread for themselves alone.” This happiness is a disgrace for them, as the verse states (Malachi 2:3): “I will spread dung on your faces, the dung of your festival celebrations.”18

Furthermore, Rambam says (Shevitat Yom Tov 6:20), “When a person eats, drinks and celebrates on a festival, he should not let himself become overly drawn to drinking wine, mirth and levity, saying, ‘whoever indulges in these activities more is increasing [his observance of] the mitzvah of rejoicing.’ For drunkenness, profuse mirth and levity are not rejoicing; they are frivolity and foolishness. And we were not commanded to indulge in frivolity or foolishness, but rather in rejoicing that involves the service of the Creator of all. Thus, [Devarim 28:47] states, ‘Because you did not serve G-d, your L-rd, with happiness and a glad heart with an abundance of prosperity.’ This teaches us that service [of G-d] involves joy. And it is impossible to serve G-d while in the midst of levity, frivolity or drunkenness.”

Notes

1. Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik (Shiurim LeZecher Abba Mori z”l, vol. 2, pp. 203–204, 2002 ed.) distinguishes between actions (ma’aseh) of the mitzvah, such as eating meat, and the emotional fulfillment (chalot) of the mitzvah by being in a joyous mood.

2. The Beit Yosef (OC 529, s.v. katav haRambam) expresses surprise that Rambam did not understand the

Gemara as he did. See Aruch L’Ner, Sukkah 42b, for a defense of Rambam’s position.

3. The colloquial phrase “ein simchah ela bebasar veyayin—there is no simchah without meat and wine” is technically not Talmudic, but the idea is expressed in this Rambam. Rambam also says that simchah includes giving candy and nuts to children and buying beautiful clothing and jewelry for women.

4. And in the time of the Beit Hamikdash for ritually impure people who could not eat sacrificial meat (Minchat Chinuch 488:2).

5. E.g., Rambam, Chagigah 2:10; Minchat Chinuch, 488:9; Chavot Yair, 178; Divrei Chaim quoted in Darchei Teshuvah 89:19; Ba’er Heitev in the name of the Bach, 551:28; and Rivevot Ephraim, 1:350:1 quoting Rabbi Moshe Feinstein.

6. There is also a custom to have dairy on Chanukah (Rema, OC 670:2). Some had a custom to have dairy on erev Pesach, as that would make one sleepy, leading to napping during the day and remaining awake on the Seder night (Sefer Matamim, Yitzchak Lipiatz, 1889, p. 27a). Rambam’s father mentions a custom to have milk on Purim (http://hebrewbooks.org/pdfpager .aspx?req =22994&st=&pgnum=9).

7. Kitzur Shulchan Aruch (103:7), 600 years later, also cites this reason. The pasuk describes bringing bikkurim on Shavuot. It is worth noting that two of the three pesukim prohibiting meat and milk together are in the same pasuk with bikkurim (Shemot 23:19 and 34:26).

8. In Berachot 63b, Torah is compared to butter, and in Devarim Rabbah [Ki Tavo] 7:3 and Shir Hashirim Rabbah 1:19, it is compared to honey, milk, water, wine and oil.

9. Some editions have “bekamah”—in some locales—while others have “bechol”—in all locales.

10. The Rema and most other sources seem to emphasize that this custom is only on the first day. Minhag Yisrael Torah (vol. 2, p. 367) does cite a few sources that also include the second day.

11. The Peri Chadash (494) says this reason is weak and prefers the older reason of Torah compared to milk, and notes that Torah is also compared to water and wine (Ta’anit 7a).

12. This custom originated in Ashkenazic lands. It eventually spread to Sephardic lands, although it was not as rigorously followed (Rabbi Shemtob Gaguine, Keter Shem Tob, vol. 4–5, pp. 15–16). Notable exceptions are the Yemenites, who find the Shavuot dairy custom strange (Rabbi Yosef Kapach, Halichot Teiman, p. 31), and the Adenites (Otzar Minhagei Aden, 5773, 11:10 [p. 107]), who did not eat dairy but did have honey and other special sweet treats.

13. A good rule of thumb is that the number of reasons given for a particular custom is inversely proportional to the accuracy with which the true reason is known. To illustrate this, Rabbi Yaakov Meidan once quipped: “I know nine reasons to read Rut on Shavuot and only one reason to read Esther on Purim.” Sefer Matamim (Yitzchak Lipiatz, 1889) lists nineteen reasons for eating dairy on Shavuot. Shu”t Mekadesh Yisrael (Rabbi Y.D. Harfenes, 5758, pp. 188–89) offers seventeen, and quotes the Shulchan Aruch HaRav (494:16) as stating that many reasons are said for this custom. Kuntres Matamei Moshe (Rabbi Moshe Dinin, 5753) gives 149 (!) reasons for this minhag.

14. It may also be necessary to wash one’s hands (Shach, YD 89:9; Aruch HaShulchan, YD 89:8).

15. Torat Chaim to Chullin 83 and Orach Mishor, both cited in Darchei Teshuvah, YD 89:19.

16. There does not seem to be a halachic precedent for this ruling.

17. Nearly identical sentiments are expressed in the Shulchan Aruch (OC 529: 2, 3). The Mishnah Berurah (529:17) adds that in some places there is a commendable custom to take up a collection before a chag on behalf of the poor of the city.

18. Rambam expresses similar sentiments in Hilchot Megillah (2:17): “It is preferable for a person to be more liberal with his donations to the poor than to be lavish in his preparation of the Purim feast or in sending portions to his friends. For there is no greater and more splendid happiness than to gladden the hearts of the poor, the orphans, the widows and the converts. One who brings happiness to the hearts of these unfortunate individuals resembles the Divine Presence, which Yeshayahu 57:15 describes as having the tendency ‘to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive those with broken hearts.’”

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THE CHEF’S TABLE

Erev Pesach: Whoever is hungry, let them come eat!

By Naomi Ross

Bellies rumble below the whirring of electric mixers and graters hard at work. Pesach is almost here and the house is free of chametz. We find ourselves in that unique “no man’s land”: we can’t eat chametz and we can’t eat matzah. Everyone is hungry but who has time to bother with lunch when there is so much else to do and nothing good to eat anyway?!

A piece of cheese, cut up cucumbers, some stolen morsels of rainbow cake . . . not enough when “ Shulchan Orech ” is so many hours away. The same family members we are working so hard for will be so much happier at the Seder if they don’t come to the table “hangry.” A little strategic planning can go a long way to ensure the family is fed and kept in good spirits. For example, piggy-back off the ingredients already being prepped in the kitchen for other dishes that can be utilized or repurposed toward a quick meal.

Yields 4 servings

Old Fashioned Chicken & Potatoes

Everyone needs a satisfying, homey one-pan dish that can be thrown together in just a few minutes. I like to leave out some pans of Chicken & Potatoes in the late afternoon, buffet style. Family members come out of the woodwork one by one and are so grateful to be sated before the long festive night ahead.

Chef’s Note

This dish is easily doubled or tripled and can be made with a whole cut-up chicken as well.

4 chicken quarters (legs)

2 medium potatoes, scrubbed and thinly sliced (⅛–¼-inch thick)

1 small sweet potato, scrubbed and thinly sliced (⅛–¼-inch thick)

1 large onion, thinly sliced

2–3 cloves garlic, chopped

2–3 tablespoons olive oil, divided

1 teaspoon Kosher salt

½ teaspoon black pepper

1 teaspoon garlic powder

1 teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

2–3 teaspoons honey

2–3 tablespoons white wine

1. Preheat oven to 400°F. Rinse and pat chicken dry; set aside.

2. Place potatoes, onion and garlic in a 9x13 baking dish; toss together with 1–2 tablespoons olive oil.

3. Combine all spices in a small bowl. Sprinkle about half the mixture over the potatoes and toss again.

4. Place chicken quarters over potatoes. Sprinkle with remaining spice mixture. Drizzle with honey, white wine and remaining 1 tablespoon oil.

5. Bake, basting occasionally, for 50–60 minutes or until chicken is browned and potatoes are tender.

Naomi Ross is a cooking instructor and food writer based in Woodmere, New York. She teaches classes throughout the country and writes articles connecting delicious cooking and Jewish inspiration. Her first cookbook is The Giving Table (Brooklyn, NY, 2022).

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Balsamic London Broil

Photo: Baila Gluck

Balsamic London Broil

Yields 4–6 servings

Grilling is a game-changer for Pesach (or Pre-Pesach) meals. Whether you go to the trouble of kashering your grill or use an indoor grill pan, steak and fries are a great option that always satisfies. Marinate in the morning and grill in the afternoon after Seder preparations are underway.

3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

½ teaspoon dried oregano

½ teaspoon dried basil

¼ teaspoon Kosher salt

Freshly ground pepper

2 whole garlic cloves, peeled and minced

¼ teaspoon red pepper flakes

1/3 cup olive oil

1 pound London Broil

1. Whisk balsamic vinegar and all spices together in a large mixing bowl until blended. Drizzle olive oil into mixture while continuously whisking until all the olive oil is incorporated. Add steak and turn to coat. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate (alternatively, this can be done in a gallon-size zip-top bag). Marinate for at least 2 hours.

2. Preheat grill to high or pre-heat grill pan over medium-high heat. Carefully oil grates to prevent sticking (use an oil-soaked paper towel with tongs for this job). Remove steak from the marinade (discarding marinade), and pat dry. Place steak on the grill over direct heat. Grill steak on each side for about 5–7 minutes depending on thickness and desired doneness (135°F for rare, or 7–10 minutes at 145°F for medium).

3. Transfer to a plate or cutting board and allow to rest for 10–15 minutes before slicing. Slice against the grain (crosswise) and serve.

Yields 4–6 servings

Inspired by the flavors of charoset and all the available prepped ingredients on hand, this is an easy chicken salad to throw together with leftover chicken from a soup or roasted chicken.

2–3 cups cooked chicken, diced or shredded

2 ribs celery, chopped

¼ cup finely chopped red onion

½–1 apple, cored and chopped

¼ cup chopped toasted walnuts

1/3 cup mayonnaise

2 teaspoons honey

Juice of half a lemon (about 2–3 teaspoons)

¼ teaspoon cinnamon

Kosher salt and pepper to taste

1. Combine chicken, celery, red onion, apple and nuts in a large bowl.

2. In a separate small bowl, whisk together mayonnaise, honey, lemon juice, cinnamon, salt and pepper to taste.

3. Pour over chicken and mix until well coated. Season to taste. Serve with romaine or iceberg lettuce. Clean and check leaves thoroughly. (See The OU Guide to Checking Produce and More [http://oukosher.org/ou-guideto-checking-produce-and-more]).

Chef’s Note

Adding a few tablespoons of fresh herbs like parsley or basil will boost the flavor.

Please note that one may not use quinoa on Pesach without special Pesach certification.

3 cups cooked quinoa, packed

1 small onion, grated or minced (about ¾ cup)

½ red bell pepper, finely chopped

1 small carrot, peeled and grated or finely chopped (about ¼ cup)

3 cloves garlic, minced or crushed

3 eggs, beaten

1½–2 teaspoons Kosher salt

1 teaspoon oregano

¾ teaspoon basil

½ teaspoon thyme

¼ teaspoon black pepper

⅛–¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper (optional)

Zest of 1 lemon

¾ cup potato starch

¼ cup grated parmesan cheese (optional)

½ cup avocado oil

1. Combine all ingredients (except the oil) in a large bowl. Let the mixture sit for a few minutes to absorb some of the moisture and thicken (mixture will be on the wetter side).

Yields 15–18 cakes

Gluten-free and non-gebrokts, these cakes are a great way of using up extra quinoa. I usually pulse the vegetables until fine in the food processor to make short work of the prep. The mixture will last for up to 3 days in the refrigerator; cooked patties can be prepared up to 5 days ahead and are a welcome erev Pesach snack (pareve or dairy).

2. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Spoon mounds of the mixture into the pan (about 3–4 tablespoons each); use the back of the spatula to flatten in pan. Cook for about 3–4 minutes per side, flipping once, until the bottoms are deeply browned and crispy. Use a slotted spatula to remove from the skillet and transfer to a rack to drain. Repeat with the remaining patties, adding more oil to the skillet in between batches, as needed.

*Serve with spicy mayo or pesto mayo and/or sliced avocado.

Waldorf Chicken Salad

Crispy Quinoa Cakes

Photo: Baila Gluck

COMING SOON FROM OU PRESS

Megillat Ruth Mesorat HaRav— Wintman Family Edition

With commentary on Megillat Ruth and the Torah Readings of Shavuot. Based on the teachings of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, compiled and edited by Reuven Mohl.

OU Press and Koren Publishers, Jerusalem

Megillat Ruth Mesorat

HaRav is a tribute to to the halachic and philosophical contributions of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, familiarly known as “the Rav.” This commentary on Megillat Ruth intertwines the narrative of Ruth with the broader themes of Jewish destiny, covenant and spiritual transformation. The Rav sees Ruth’s journey, from a Moabite outsider to the “matriarch of monarchy,” as a quintessential model of commitment to Jewish life.

Reuven Mohl, the editor of the commentary on Ruth as well as on the Torah readings and Haftarot of Shavuot, skillfully collated the Rav’s insights from a wide variety of works. To give one example: The Rav highlights Ruth’s declaration of loyalty to Naomi—”Your people is my people; your G-d is my G-d”—as a profound statement of the principles underlying conversion. This duality, joining the Jewish people and embracing their G-d, reflects the basis of conversion, which entails both a commitment to the Jewish people and a full acceptance of the Divine commandments. The Rav emphasizes that entering the Jewish community requires accepting two covenants: the covenant of fate, which binds Jews through shared history and collective suffering, and the covenant of destiny, which charges them with the responsibility to fulfill G-d’s commandments and pursue an elevated moral and spiritual life. This interpretation deepens the reader’s appreciation of Ruth’s words, transforming them into a powerful theological statement. The Rav’s perspective on conversion goes beyond the formalities of circumcision and immersion, framing it as a profound existential rebirth.

In addition, the volume contains a section of Reshimot—in-depth halachic discussions—compiled by Rabbis Eliyahu Krakowski and Moshe Genack. This section provides detailed explorations of topics related to the holiday of Shavuot, including: the controversy with the Sadducees over the date of Shavuot, different aspects of the mitzvah of Torah study, the blessings recited over Torah study, and the conversion of the Jewish people at Mount Sinai. The Reshimot section also includes an adaptation of an essay on the acceptance of mitzvot in conversion by Rabbi Ahron Soloveichik, the Rav’s youngest brother, which presents an important contribution to understanding this fundamental topic.

In one of the Reshimot, the Rav examines the concept of “the crown of Torah,” and explains it as follows:

The “crown” means the elevation and enhancement of an individual. The Torah purifies, sanctifies and bestows beauty upon a person, as we find in Proverbs (4:8): “Extol her, and she will exalt you; she will bring you honor when you embrace her.” Through Torah study, one merits not only Torah knowledge and wisdom but also personal sanctity and purity. Coarseness vanishes and, in its place, comes sensitivity. Superficiality is replaced by depth of thought. Through the Torah, a new personality is forged. Man’s spirit is broadened, his ethical awareness heightened . . . When the Torah is absorbed within a person and sanctifies him, it sheds a brilliant light and opens new gates of understanding. One gains not only a store of wisdom but also discernment and depth, the power to innovate and create. The development of these strengths is an outgrowth of receiving a crown resembling that of the kohen gadol upon whose head and eyes is poured anointing oil, so that he can see what is hidden from the eyes of ordinary men and comprehend that which is concealed from commoners.

To this we can add, “re’uyim hadevarim lemi she’amaran—these words are fitting for the one who spoke them.” Those who seek depth of thought, discernment and understanding know that Rabbi Soloveitchik’s ideas do not disappoint. Megillat Ruth Mesorat HaRav is a profound work that offers fresh insights into one of the most inspiring Biblical texts and into the holiday on which we relive the acceptance of the Torah and the conversion of the Jewish people. This work illuminates the enduring relevance of Ruth’s story.

TORAH IN A CONNECTED WORLD: A

Halakhic Perspective on Communication Technology and Social

Media

By Rabbi Jonathan Ziring Maggid Books

Jerusalem, 2024

464 pages

Reviewed by Rabbi Steven Gotlib

Rabbi Dovid Winiarz, who sadly passed away in 2015, was known to many as “The Facebuker Rebbe” due to the countless hours he spent on social media actively attempting to educate, engage with and productively debate Jews from a variety of religious backgrounds. Since his untimely passing, social media has only become more ubiquitous as the world has become exponentially more connected. Rabbis have increasingly taken to social media as a sort of

“second pulpit,” Orthodox synagogues have expanded to include weekday “global membership” options, and online marketing has arguably become a mode of kiruv in itself. These and other developments have led to no shortage of halachic discussions, which is made clear in Rabbi Jonathan Ziring’s Torah in a Connected Age: A Halakhic Perspective on Communication Technology and Social Media. The book is split into five sections, each of which deals with a different set of questions: changing definitions of relationships and communities, our responsibility for online content, issues of perception, gossip and shaming and mediamediated mitzvot.

As a rabbi who is also a marketing professional, I have thought back to Rabbi Ziring’s book almost every day for guidance or clarity as I strategize about what content I cultivate and how to best share it on behalf of one of North America’s premier Orthodox rabbinical schools. It is my hope that this review can inspire readers to think more deeply about how frum people ought to present ourselves and our religion in the age of social media.

One of the biggest worries that frum Jews face on social media is how easily prolonged engagement with the medium can impact how we come to view ourselves, others and even Hashem. Social media often encourages us to compare ourselves to others in deeply unproductive ways. Rabbi Ziring, therefore, urges his readers to “recognize that the lives we see are not as perfect as they seem” and that “even if they were, our lives do not have to be identical with

theirs to be meaningful and positive” (221). Hashem created each and every one of us with unique strengths and weaknesses, but social media often only shows one side of a given person’s life. This invites us to question why we can’t be more like others (or at least more like their online presentation of themselves) rather than asking how we can maximize our own unique abilities.

Even realizing this, though, does not prevent the anxiety that comes with a different concern—perhaps my posts or online actions will be badly misunderstood or taken wildly out of context. This can happen as a result of “liking” seemingly innocuous posts that were made on Shabbat, depict eating non-kosher food, showcase a relationship that halachah frowns upon, and the like. Rabbi Ziring notes that “every ‘like’ can be [understood as] a tacit acceptance of the activity portrayed by a post” (174). Indeed, “one’s ‘liking,’ sharing, commenting, or retweeting may be interpreted as support of forbidden activity” (178179), something about which any frum Jew ought to be careful. Lest one think this is only good advice, Rabbi Ziring notes that those who like and share such content wantonly potentially violate several serious prohibitions, including lifnei iver (placing a stumbling block

Rabbi Steven Gotlib is the marketing manager at Yeshiva University’s Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary and associate rabbi at Mekor Habracha/Center City Synagogue.

before the blind), mesayeah (assisting or supporting sin) and chanufah (flattery).

Rabbi Ziring notes, though, that where “it is clear that one may be happy about the core positive content of a post without signing on to every problematic aspect that it entails, reacting in a positive manner to such a post would be permitted” (179).

One example which Rabbi Ziring refers to in the book happened during his time as a segan (assistant) rosh kollel in a certain city. Several students of his were in New York City for a Shabbaton and ran into none other than Conan O’Brien. Conan took a selfie with them and posted it on social media, stating that the students did not have their phones on them due to their Shabbat observance. The picture was subject to much critique within the frum world, only for it to come out that it had in fact been taken after Shabbat but before the students were able to retrieve their phones. The damage, though, had already been done. Upon their return home, the rosh yeshivah took the opportunity to impress upon his students the following lesson:

In the world of social media a small mistake, even a slight one, can instantly be publicized across the world and remain online forever. These can have effects on the jobs one gets, the schools one is admitted to, and the person one marries. Thus . . . exercise extreme caution to act in such ways as to maintain a positive image (194).

In addition to raising questions of lashon hara, this story serves as a cautionary tale for how the same events can serve as either a kiddush Hashem or a chillul Hashem depending on how they are presented and understood by onlookers.

The unfortunate reality is that everything one does is potentially subject to misunderstanding or misrepresentation. This is exacerbated by social media where, Rabbi Ziring points out, our posts and pictures “can often be taken out of context by people too lazy to read everything we have said or written, or by those who are intentionally trying to ‘catch us’ in indiscretion.” Likewise, since tone is hard to discern, “we must be careful about what we write, so that it will never be understood in an offensive

manner, when that is not what was intended” (209–210). Of course, willfully misrepresenting what someone else says is deeply problematic. In Rabbi Ziring’s words, “cavalierly accusing all who say things contrary to one’s own interest [of] propagating fake news violates the sanctity of the truth and undermines the very seal of G-d” (395). Unfortunately, one need not travel far to find countless examples of this very problem.

Social media may be seen as a simulacrum for real life in which all is magnified. The added layer of distance allows for emotions to run rampant and judgements to be quickly made. Inhibitions are lowered while bad habits are enabled, and all of this is made worse by the proclivity to place oneself in echo chambers and block all whose opinions significantly differ from our own. Is there any way, then, for frum Jews to salvage social media? If the answer were no, this book would not need to have been written. Social media in various forms is a part of life, and an extremely useful one at that, which comes with great risk but also great potential for reward.

In his book The Anxious Generation, Dr. Jonathan Haidt wrote that “smartphones, social media, market forces, and social influence combine to pull us into a trap. Each of us, acting alone, perceives that it’s too difficult or costly to do the right thing. But if we can act together, the costs go way down.”

For some, the right thing may involve quarantining oneself from social media while for others it may involve learning how to use it responsibly and positively.

Rabbi Ziring correctly notes:

Posting Torah thoughts, questions, links to shiurim, anecdotes of impressive acts of chesed, and sometimes even constructive criticism concerning social issues can all have a powerful impact. ‘Liking’ and sharing the comments of others express our support for such posts. Social media enables us to reach many more people than we can in person, and we can create an online presence that helps others in a positive way (179).

The more positive our impact is on social media, the more positive it is for everyone who logs in. I can personally attest that my work in marketing has exposed me to many people

Is there any way, then, for frum Jews to salvage social media? If the answer were no, this book would not need to have been written.

who would never have considered Orthodox Judaism as a serious option for themselves or would never have given serious thought to learning in yeshivah were it not for stumbling upon well-timed and articulate Jewish media content.

One can still find the following post on Rabbi Dovid Winiarz's Facebook wall: “Welcome to my virtual living room. Please check your politics at the door and come on in. :)” Just like our living rooms say a lot about us and can ignite the flames of inspiration in others, so too can our social media presence. Utilizing social media as a medium for spreading the light of Torah by maximizing positive Jewish content allows each and every one of us to engage in our age-old mission of serving as a light unto the nations and bringing together Jews from all corners of the world by inviting them into our virtual homes and warming their souls. If you are interested in exploring this in a way that is thorough, rigorous and informed by our mesorah, Torah in a Connected World is a must-read. I encourage all to read it, learn from it and utilize its lessons to create digital footprints which lead to a bright future.

KOSHER ADHD: Surviving and Thriving in the Torah-Observant

World

By Simcha Chesner, PhD, and Sara Markowitz, PhD

Kodesh Press

New York, 2023

314 pages

Reviewed by Olivia Friedman

What does it mean for a Jewish child to have ADHD? This is the question Kosher ADHD: Surviving and Thriving in the Torah-Observant World aims to explore. The book, written by Drs. Simcha Chesner and Sara Markowitz, provides insight into traits and tendencies shared by individuals with ADHD. It documents unique challenges they face within traditional or Orthodox communities, and practical techniques to assist teachers

and parents in better supporting them.

Dr. Chesner and Dr. Markowitz are particularly qualified to address this topic. Both are psychologists who have ADHD. Additionally, both worked together at Dr. Chesner’s ADHDfocused high school in Israel. This book is the outcome of their lived experience, clinical expertise and on-the-ground interactions.

Dr. Chesner and Dr. Markowitz understand ADHD as resulting from “an interaction between societal conditions and neurology” (32). That interaction goes both ways, as “environment actually shapes neurology in forming the behaviors of ADHD” (32). They offer an example from Jewish tradition, comparing Eisav and King David, both of whom are referred to as admoni, red. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch notes that Eisav and his brother, Yaakov, were raised in the same manner, rather than having their education differentiated to suit their individual temperaments. Eisav needed more active, hands-on experiences and the ability to be outside in nature, while Yaakov was suited for traditional forms of academic study. Unfortunately, while Yaakov “grew into an outstanding student of Torah, Eisav abandoned the Torah lifestyle and violently alienated himself from the traditions of his parents” (55). On the other hand, David grew up in a way that aligned with his temperament; he was a shepherd who spent time outdoors, using his aggression to defend his flock, and he engaged in the tactile experience of playing an instrument. This is what enabled him to become king of Israel,

while Eisav was not considered fit to continue the covenant. Thus, as caregivers, it is important to understand how we can best tailor the environment at home or school for students and children with ADHD.

“ADHD is a form of behavior disability, in a sense parallel to learning disabilities” (50), Dr. Chesner and Dr. Markowitz assert. Individuals with ADHD struggle with self-control, are less sensitive to reinforcement, are more prone to act impulsively and have difficulty delaying gratification. In general, individuals with ADHD “receive poorer grades, have fewer friends, are involved in more automobile accidents, and are more likely to get divorced than peers of the general population” (51). While some believe ADHD comes with positive aspects, such as hyperfocus, divergent thinking and creative ideation, Dr. Chesner and Dr. Markowitz do not reference these positive qualities. This might be due to the focus of the book, which addresses the more challenging aspects of the diagnosis. Dr. Chesner and Dr. Markowitz note that growing up with ADHD within a traditional or Orthodox community is particularly hard because the people who are disappointed and “the sources of punishment are Torah institutions and their representatives” (51). These children may question whether to remain part of an observant community

Olivia Friedman is a Judaic studies teacher at Jewish Leadership Academy in Miami.

when they are constantly being reprimanded and punished by people who claim to represent the Torah path.

Dr. Chesner and Dr. Markowitz give many examples of the conflict between the temperament of a child with ADHD and expectations placed upon the child by Torah-observant society. For example, a child with ADHD may find it almost impossible to sit still in synagogue even when same-age peers can do so. They may find it difficult to wait a set amount of time between eating meat and milk. They may not remember they are supposed to wash negel vasser or say Modeh Ani when they wake up in the morning. Parents may interpret these behaviors as deliberately rebellious—proof that the child is irreligious—or become angry with the child for embarrassing them. Adults who want to help children with ADHD must learn to “separate religious commitment from ADHDtype behaviors” (101). Children with ADHD behave the way they do because “they are born with impulsive natures and require high levels of stimulation in order to remain connected to whatever the task at hand may be” (101). Although it is human to focus on the negative, adult caregivers can benefit from being mindful, focusing on the present moment with acceptance and without judgment. They can also make use of cognitive restructuring, in which they replace their immediate critical, judgmental thought (“my child is undisciplined and has no yirat Shamayim”) with a more empathic thought (“my child is neurologically challenged to sit still at this time of day; he probably already feels like a failure, and I want to try to help him”).

Dr. Chesner and Dr. Markowitz then provide clear, specific techniques to better assist an individual with ADHD in finding success in many aspects of Torah society. They recommend setting developmentally attuned goals that “are based on the child with ADHD competing only against himself” (107). If your son was incapable of sitting in shul without disturbing anyone for longer than two minutes, and now he can say the silent Amidah for ten minutes, that is a win. This is the case even if his classmate is able to sit in

shul through the entire two-hour Shabbat prayer service. These goals should also be SMART, which stands for specific, measurable, attainable, relevant and timely.

Poor working memory is a symptom of ADHD. Dr. Chesner and Dr. Markowitz therefore suggest creating a Working Memory Activation Cue (WOMAC). It can be “a picture, poster, audio recording or any other external device that jogs a lethargic working memory” (139). If the goal is for the child to say Modeh Ani, then perhaps a poster with the words of the prayer visible from the child’s bed would suffice. Additionally, since many children with ADHD have fragile selfimages, they recommend designing Self-Esteem Enhancing Cues (SEECs). The idea would be to connect mitzvah performance to the child’s self-esteem. For example, saying Modeh Ani attests to the child’s “personal and intimate connection with Hashem” (143), making him a true VIP. One way to showcase this could be to hang a picture of a two-seat motorcycle with the child in the driver’s seat and the spot next to him reserved for Hashem, with the caption “Say Modeh Ani and partner with the Highest” (143).

Tefillah is difficult for many children but can be especially challenging for those with ADHD. The codified text of the siddur may be of minimal interest to the child. Dr. Chesner and Dr. Markowitz suggest working memory activation cues for prayer; highlighting essential prayers; organizing a certain number of davening breaks in advance; or giving the child a job connected to davening that enables them to be active and break up the davening into chunks. This last could include serving as the gabbai or as the ba’al tefillah. Indeed, “many people with ADHD love singing and are quite proficient at learning the nusach (musical style) of tefillah . . . leading the service may allow him to connect with the community and with the tefillot. People who find a role within a community do not need to seek their identity outside of the community” (164).

Talmud Torah can also be difficult for students with ADHD. This is not because these children are intellectually

inferior. Howard Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences is useful here. Although school learning is “dominated by verbal and mathematical intelligence, ‘smarts’ in actual living is much more expansive and involves other types of cognitive skills” (182). These include naturalist, spatial, bodily-kinesthetic, musical, linguistic, intrapersonal, interpersonal and existential intelligence. Thus, Torah must be presented in a manner that resonates with the child. After all, “if a child who has a natural affinity towards nature is not able to direct her Torah learning towards the natural experience, it is highly unlikely that she will internalize Torah as an important life principle” (183). What this practically means for teachers is that they should broaden techniques to teach Torah beyond simply reading and writing in class: use videos and animations, allow children to act as autodidacts and study individually on their own terms, record lectures and make them available to students so they can listen to them at a time when they are more focused, and use the CAMP method when teaching Talmud. What is the CAMP method? CAMP stands for connection, ability/ achievement, meaningfulness and pleasure. For many students with ADHD to truly internalize Torah, they must feel connected to the material, that they have the ability to do the current activity, that the material is meaningful and that the material can be internalized in a pleasurable rather than torturous manner. Students with

A child with ADHD may find it almost impossible to sit still in synagogue even when same-age peers can do so.

ADHD have additional challenges that teachers must plan for; these may include reading disabilities, struggling with auditory learning, difficulty sustaining attention, the fact that talmud Torah often requires children to sit still and not move, the topic of study not directly connecting to their area of interest, and their preferred method of learning being associative rather than sequential. Dr. Chesner and Dr. Markowitz offer a very specific method and structure of analysis they call Carmela’s Method to assist students who are learning Talmud. It involves having students break down, chunk and chart the text in order to turn the information into a meaningful unit.

While Kosher ADHD largely focuses on assisting children and teens, a section at the end focuses on how adults with ADHD can learn to thrive within their Jewish communities. Dr. Chesner and Dr. Markowitz offer examples of how time blindness and impulsivity, along with other executive functioning deficits, could get in the way of adults with ADHD, and the authors analyze the emotional consequences and impact on relationships caused by these challenges. They also offer specific frameworks, mindset shifts and techniques adults can use to better meet their goals or understand a spouse who has ADHD.

A major contribution of Kosher ADHD is its practical, clear depiction of symptoms and strategies. Individuals who do not have ADHD but find themselves struggling with symptoms like time blindness or an inability to think sequentially will benefit from this book.

A significant drawback of Kosher ADHD is its overall negative framing of ADHD—the challenges experienced by those who have it and the argument that this leads to poor self-esteem and self-concept. While this may be true, there are certainly individuals who view ADHD as a superpower and even attribute their success to having or thriving with ADHD. It would have been powerful to include examples of famous and successful contemporary Jewish individuals who have ADHD as role models to those who struggle with this behavior disability. If they are observant individuals, so much the better; they could share personal strategies and chizuk regarding how they attained their success and thrived in the frum community. Despite this, Kosher ADHD is an important and timely contribution and a book that belongs in every parent’s and teacher’s library.

RAKAFOT AHARON:

Timeless Halakhah and Contemporary History (4 vols.)

By Rabbi Aaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff

Shvut Ami/The International Center for Soviet Jews

Jerusalem, 1997

Reviewed by Rabbi Ron Yitzchok Eisenman

hen I get home this evening, I will kiss the mezuzah, my wife, and the television set.” This well-known, enigmatic statement is often the “first pitch” thrown right over home plate by one of the most popular lecturers on YU Torah, Rabbi Dr. Aaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff.

An unabashed Yankee fan, a first-rate talmid chacham and intense devotee of Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, Rabbi Rakeffet, who earned a PhD in Jewish history, is the YU version of a social media Torah influencer. Having passed his eighty-seventh birthday, he

started teaching when Richard Nixon was president and has been dazzling students for five decades—his halfcentury commitment to teaching makes Lou Gehrig’s record of 2,130 consecutive games played seem trivial in comparison.

Although he prides himself on being a proud “confirmed-Litvak,” he is more akin to a Modern Orthodox Chassidic Rebbe to his masses of fans, ranging from Baby Boomers to Generation Alpha. Broadcasting from Yerushalayim multiple times a week, Rabbi Rakeffet, who serves as professor of rabbinic literature at Yeshiva University’s Caroline and Joseph S. Gruss Institute in Jerusalem, shows no signs of slowing down as he continues to teach, entertain and spread Torah. Spicing his Torah with plenty of anecdotes involving great Torah leaders, he never fails to add a large serving of his passionate devotion to Religious Zionism to every shiur

Born in 1937, Rabbi Rakeffet was an early member of Bnei Akiva, where he met his eishet chayil Malkah. He made aliyah in 1969 after serving as a pulpit rabbi in Lower Merion, Pennsylvania, and in Maplewood, New Jersey. He hit the ground running as he began teaching Torah immediately.

When Beit Midrash L’Torah (BMT) outgrew its original campus in 1976, Rabbi Rakeffet impressed upon the well-known philanthropist Joseph Gruss to give over the new campus in Bayit Vegan he had built to BMT and Yeshiva University, which he did. Rabbi Rakeffet has been teaching at YU’s Caroline and Joseph S. Gruss Institute for decades.

Besides being a long-time rebbi and mentor to thousands, in 1980, Rabbi Rakeffet was recruited by Aryeh Kroll to join the Mossad’s clandestine Nativ operation to teach Torah in the Soviet Union. He visited the Soviet Union in 1981, 1985 and 1989 with Malkah, and recruited hundreds to join him in disseminating Torah behind the Iron Curtain. His initial visit to the Soviet Union motivated him to help found Shvut Ami—the International Center for Soviet Jews, an organization that helps Russian Jews integrate into Israeli society and learn about Judaism.

The four volumes of Rabbi Rakeffet’s writings under review, published by Shvut Ami to help raise funds for Russian Jews, are now available as a set. In 1997, Rabbi Rakeffet compiled many of his published articles on Torah and Jewish history into two volumes of Rakafot Aharon. In 2016, Shvut Ami published volume three of Rakafot Aharon, and the last volume was published in 2019. Much of the material in the four-volume work is based on his popular lecture series held at the Gruss Institute. Currently, for the first time, all four volumes are available to order as a set. Two of the volumes had been sold out for several years (and have recently been reprinted thanks to a generous donor).

The volumes, which cover a potpourri of Torah topics, are sure to be welcomed and read by both well-

Rabbi Ron Yitzchok Eisenman is rabbi of Congregation Ahavas Israel in Passaic, New Jersey.

seasoned veterans of Rabbi Rakeffet’s shiurim and newcomers who are seeing his writings for the first time. Although it is beyond the scope of this review to provide an in-depth analysis of the astonishing medley of Torah and historical essays contained within the volumes, a short summary is in order.

The first two volumes contain various biographies of Torah giants of the nineteenth century, as well as some historical and semi-biographical articles such as “A Rabbi in a Soldier’s Uniform,” which shares how Rabbi Rakeffet himself became a proud member of the IDF in the aftermath of the Yom Kippur War.

Volume two contains reprints of articles written by Rabbi Rakeffet in Tradition, Gesher and other publications dealing with a variety of halachic/ historical events, such as the infamous Get in Cleves in 1766 and the failed attempt to merge the Jewish Theological Seminary and Yeshiva College in 1926.

Volume three deals with contemporary halachic topics of agunah, mamzerut and artificial insemination. These are among the most complex questions in modern times, and Rabbi Rakeffet explores and explains them with remarkable clarity.

Volume four includes “Hilchot Kiddushin” on marriage problems, “The Russian Saga,” a section on contemporary Torah history and concludes with many fascinating photographs and documents.

As an expansive and totally inclusive review is beyond my purview, I will limit my review to volume three and, specifically, to Rabbi Rakeffet’s analyses of military agunot in Israel and the Langer mamzerut case.

Traditionally, an agunah is a woman whose husband is missing and she is therefore trapped in a dead marriage, unable to remarry. The chapter in Shulchan Aruch about agunot is considered by many to be the single hardest chapter. Otzar HaPoskim devotes an entire volume to this subject of attempting to determine a husband’s death without absolute proof. Rabbi Rakeffet (pp. 12–90) offers readers an accessible tour through the history of the efforts made by great rabbis to balance the need to free a trapped

woman and to prevent possible adultery if the husband is alive.

Rabbi Rakeffet then proceeds to modern times where we have additional technological capabilities. Most interesting is his survey of the work done by the Israeli Rabbinate to free the wives of men presumably killed during war. While we certainly sympathize with the presumed widows of soldiers, when there is no identifiable body, we need to evaluate the evidence and build up a case to determine death. Rabbis Yitzchak Herzog and Shlomo Goren did just that for the wives of the defenders of Kfar Etzion who were massacred in 1948. After building the case, Rabbi Herzog agreed to permit the women to remarry if he received the approval of two other great rabbis.

Rabbi Ovadia Yosef worked hard to evaluate the evidence in the nearly 1,000 agunah cases created by the Yom Kippur War. Most significantly, in addition to the many other considerations, Rabbi Yosef ruled that a dog tag is considered a definitive identifier because no one lends a dog tag to someone else. Rabbi Yosef also addressed the complex question of an air force pilot whose body is never found. This question was also taken up by Rabbi Avraham Zvi Rabinowitz, the chief rabbi of the Israeli Air Force. Rabbi Rakeffet surveys these and other military agunah questions, showing us how halachah is capable of handling difficult contemporary issues, while also reminding us of the sacrifice that so many brave soldiers have made to safeguard our Biblical homeland.

Rabbi Rakeffet devotes nearly thirty pages to the unfortunate case of Hanoch and Miriam Langer, who were declared mamzerim by the Beit Din Hagadol, led by the towering figures of Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv and Rabbi Ovadia Yosef. In this particular piece, one sees both the greatness and perhaps the personal leanings of Rabbi Rakeffet. Rabbi Rakeffet’s command of the sources and mastery of the complex subject matter surrounding mamzerut is impressive and confirms his credentials as a first-rate talmid chacham. His fluency with the primary sources as found in the Gemara and their respective conclusions as codified in the

Shulchan Aruch, as well as his unrivaled ability to transmit this information in a manner to be understood by all, is astonishing.

Yet concurrent to his obvious mastery of the sources is his clear intent to justify a pesak by Rabbi Goren, which was unprecedented in both its substance and certainly in the manner in which it was issued. It appears to this reviewer that Rabbi Rakeffet’s affinity for the former Chief Rabbi Goren caused him to be overly generous in his evaluation of this case of mamzerut. Most important is Rabbi Rakeffet’s overlooking the fact that no major rabbinic figure at the time, inclusive of his own rebbi, Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, came to the defense of Rabbi Goren.

Rabbi Rakeffet quotes a “confidant” of Rabbi Soloveitchik who maintains that the Rav supported Rabbi Goren privately, but the fact is that the Rav did not say anything publicly on the subject.

To maintain the validity of Rabbi Goren’s pesak seems untenable both halachically and historically. Rabbi Rakeffet’s defense of the pesak makes for provocative and fascinating reading but will not resonate with the world of Torah learning.

Yet my words are meant l’hagdil Torah—to promote Torah learning and certainly not to detract from the enormous contribution to limud haTorah that Rabbi Rakeffet has achieved through these volumes.

The set of Rabbi Rakeffet’s writing will certainly be a welcome addition to any Torah library and will be joyfully received by all lovers of Torah worldwide. May Rabbi Rakeffet continue to honor us with his Torah for many years.

The four-volume set of Rakafot Aharon can be obtained by a donation to support RAJE (Russian American Jewish Experience) and RIZE (Russian Israel Zionist Experience). Email Rabbi Aryeh Katzin at rakeffetbooks@gmail.com.

By Rabbi Gil Student

BIRKAT YITZCHAK: HE’AROT LEMASECHET SANHEDRIN, FOURTH EDITION

By Rabbi Menachem Genack

OU Press

New York, 2024

148 pages

Reviews in Brief I

n 1968, a twentyyear-old Menachem Genack—not yet a rabbi—published a short book of Talmudic essays on the tractate of Sanhedrin in memory of his recently deceased father, Rabbi Chaim Yitzchak Genack. As most readers know, Rabbi Menachem Genack—my teacher and mentor—has established himself as not only a leader in kosher supervision (he serves as CEO, OU Kosher) but also a premier Torah scholar and an important conduit of the insights of his esteemed teacher, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik. In Birkat Yitzchak, recently released in an expanded fourth edition in time for Daf Yomi learners, Rabbi Genack shows the key to how a brilliant but inexperienced youth can embody wisdom and insight. Birkat Yitzchak originally contained fifty-four essays on topics across the tractate of Sanhedrin. The expanded edition adds many small comments to those essays and another six related essays. The sefer is a goldmine of insights from Rabbi Soloveitchik, many of which for decades were not

available anywhere except in this sefer. Rabbi Genack often builds his essays on his mentor’s insights, using Rabbi Soloveitchik’s conceptual distinctions in one place to solve other problems. In this way, Rabbi Genack attaches himself to a great scholar, studies and absorbs his approach, and builds on it to create an even greater edifice. The key to achieving greatness yourself is linking yourself to the greatness of a giant of the previous generation. Even at the age of twenty, Rabbi Genack reached the level of successfully creating his own conceptual distinctions in applying Rabbi Soloveitchik’s “Brisker” approach. Sanhedrin is a fascinating tractate that covers a lot of ground, discussing kings and prophets, witnesses and courts, Jews and gentiles, and much more. It is also a tractate that crosses between halachah and aggadah, law and lore. Rabbi Genack chooses topics across the gamut but often from among the most enticing subjects. For example, he discusses the ruling (Sanhedrin 19b) that a king may not forgo his own honor. That seems to be contradicted by the fact that Moshe was a king and set aside his own honor when bowing down to his father-in-law, Yitro. In a classical Brisker distinction, Rabbi Genack suggests that there are two aspects to the honor owed to a king: 1. honor of the king himself (gavra), as an individual, 2. honor of the position of royalty (cheftza), to the status of king as an institution. When we honor the position of the king, we constantly reaffirm his appointment to that role. A king can waive his own honor, like anyone else. However, he cannot waive the honor to his position because that would undermine his appointment to that role. Moshe was a king who was appointed by G-d, not by man. Therefore, only the first aspect applies to him, which he may waive. Any other king, though, must maintain the honor to his position

With his clear thinking and concise prose, Rabbi Genack demonstrates not only how to create Brisker Torah but also how to convey it.

to reaffirm his appointment.

The Mishnah (Sanhedrin 89a) says that someone who fails to heed the statement of a prophet and a prophet who violates his own statement are subject to Divine punishment. Why, Rabbi Genack asks, is there a need for a separate rule about a prophet who violates his own statement? Isn’t that subsumed under the rule of failing to heed to a statement of a prophet? Building on an insight of Rabbi Chaim Soloveitchik, Rabbi Genack suggests that people are only required to follow the verbal command of prophecy. If a prophet fails to say his prophecy, we are not obligated to fulfill his unspoken words. In contrast, a prophet knows his own prophecy and must follow it even if he never verbalizes it. Therefore, there is a need for a separate prohibition for a prophet who violates his own, even unspoken, prophecy. Rabbi Genack then suggests a completely different answer to his original question. Perhaps the general public is required to obey a prophet himself (gavra) and not necessarily his prophecy (cheftza). However, the prophet

Rabbi Gil Student is a contributing editor of Jewish Action and member of its Editorial Committee.

does not obey himself. Rather, he must obey the prophecy. For this reason, there is a need for a separate prohibition on the prophet not to violate his own prophecy. With his clear thinking and concise prose, Rabbi Genack demonstrates not only how to create Brisker Torah but also how to convey it. Readers familiar with rabbinic Hebrew and Talmudic concepts will delight in the many essays that analyze debates across the tractate of Sanhedrin. Rabbi Genack points out apparent problems, builds tension of conflicting passages and rulings, and resolves them with the clarity of precise definitions and distinctions. He then proceeds to adduce proofs for, and further applications of, his conceptual distinctions. Birkat Yitzchak is not only an extremely useful sefer on Sanhedrin but also a master class in clear thinking and rabbinic writing.

PURSUING PESHAT: TANAKH PARSHANUT & TALMUD TORAH

By Dr. Moshe Sokolow Kodesh Press

New York, 2024

T350 pages he study of Tanach has experienced a renaissance over the past century for a variety of reasons, among them the experience of living in the land of the Bible and the influence of secular Zionists who drew inspiration from Tanach. Regardless of the reason, advanced study of any area of Torah is certainly welcome. However, the existence of competing perspectives in Tanach study raises the questions of what gives us the right to interpret Tanach and how do we determine which interpretations are legitimate. Legendary educator Dr. Moshe Sokolow, professor and associate dean at Azrieli

Graduate School of Jewish Education and Administration, runs straight into this complex battlefield of ideas with his Pursuing Peshat: Tanakh Parshanut & Talmud Torah

Like any text, Tanach can be read literally, taking its words at face value without digging past surface. However, tradition teaches us that Tanach has incredible depth, with many possible meanings and interpretations beyond a simple reading. Tradition itself provides the authority to interpret the sacred text. Dr. Sokolow takes this further and argues that a text must be interpreted within its lived history. Tanach was given to an audience who understood its meaning and transmitted the text and interpretation to future generations. Therefore, a valid peshat interpretation, the “plain or straightforward meaning,” must be consistent with the tradition of the text’s reception. Tradition provides authority to interpret, and the interpretation’s validity is based on its consistency with tradition. Dr. Sokolow bases these arguments on a plethora of sources he surveys over the course of a journey through the history and geography of Jewish Bible commentary. A reader might expect Dr. Sokolow to then say that we must adhere to the canon of Biblical commentary. Presumably we should be constrained by tradition to follow only the classical Torah commentaries. However, Dr. Sokolow goes in the opposite direction. As a teacher of teachers, he explores how to develop sensitive students who can read Tanach carefully and find new interpretations that are consistent with tradition. First, he presents a valuable list of skills necessary for anyone to be Biblically literate. While the list is quite intimidating, it is an aspirational ideal of how to train people to be better readers of the Bible.

The best way to teach how to do anything is to present concepts and then do it together. For example, by presenting students with an ambiguous verse and then showing them commentaries who explain it differently, you train them to look for different meanings within the text. Dr. Sokolow

demonstrates this with a number of verses that are textually ambiguous and discusses whether, based on the context, there is more than one way to understand the verse. He concludes his book with eight examples of using important skills to interpret verses. Pursuing Peshat is a tribute to the importance of Tanach for anyone who takes their Judaism seriously. In it, Dr. Sokolow introduces us to the key historical figures in traditional Tanach commentary and important methods we can use in our own study. He not only encourages the study of peshat but teaches readers how to do it themselves and teach it to others. This is a book for students and teachers alike who wish to improve their own appreciation and skills for peshat study of Tanach.

The existence of competing perspectives in Tanach study raises the questions of what gives us the right to interpret Tanach and how do we determine which interpretations are legitimate.

FROZEN PARKING LOT

By Rabbi Ilan D. Feldman

By analyzing layers of ice inside core samples taken from deep under the Arctic surface, scientists have been able to determine temperature conditions and other climate-related factors that prevailed eons ago. The layers of ice act as a time capsule, preserving conditions of previous eras for scientists to interpret.

That is how I look at Beth Jacob Atlanta’s parking lot. But when I look at our time capsule, I see not only what used to be, but what is still to come. What is significant is not the record of the past embedded in the asphalt. It is the unlimited and ever-sacred future encapsulated there.

Layers, frozen in memory.

The Empty Parking Lot Layer. I am nine years old, in shul on Shabbos morning, well past the starting time of davening. I am standing at a window, peering through it to the empty rear parking lot, eagerly anticipating the arrival of a car or two, which would mean we would have a minyan to proceed with Shacharis. I recall one such morning a man drove up, parked his car, entered the shul and, because he was blessed with a good voice and knowledgeable enough, was to lead davening. He ran through the lobby, proceeded down the aisle to the chazzan’s spot, car keys jangling in his pocket, and began chanting “shochen ad.” The nine-year-old Atlanta-bornand-raised rabbi’s son was too young and innocent to make any judgments. This was just the way things were.

The Packed Parking Lot Layer. It is Kol Nidrei night, twenty years later, and I—the assistant rabbi at the time—am walking home after a stirring davening and an inspiring sermon about Shabbos observance delivered by the senior rabbi. I notice a police officer, hired by the shul, directing the traffic emptying our crowded parking lot. Old enough now to see the irony (and taking a page from Rav Levi of Bardichov), I turn to G-d and say, “Master of the Universe! Look at your holy

children. They could be anywhere now, and instead, they choose to be with You on Yom Kippur!”

The Overnight Parking Lot Layer. As Shabbos observance becomes the normative Jewish practice, the front parking lot stays closed and the rear one open. Thus develops a rare phenomenon among typical parking lots: overnight parking, as people retrieve their cars after Shabbos. (A non-Jewish neighbor once asked, noting the full parking lot overnight, what kind of all-night program we had every Friday. My answer: The program is called The Fourth Commandment.)

The Shabbos Project Kiddush Layer. Preparations progress all week for the outdoor community kiddush to celebrate Shabbos. International foods, representing traditional Shabbos foods from every corner of the globe, are prepared in the shul kitchen. The outside parking lot is decorated with signs welcoming people from all over the community. Hundreds of tables are set up, and the rear parking lot is transformed into an outdoor Shabbos sanctuary.

The Present Layer. Now I stand at the same window as I did sixty-one years ago and gaze once again onto a parking lot, still empty of the cars it is designed to hold but overflowing with hundreds of men, women and children—but a fraction of Shabbos observers in Atlanta—loving Shabbos. I think of the Hebrew for parking lot—chanayah—”resting place,” and recall the prayer: “veyanuchu va Yisrael, mekadshei shemecha—May the people Israel, sanctifiers of Your name, find rest on Shabbos.” Same parking lot, empty of cars but filled with Shabbos.

The point of all this is not to compare today to yesterday, nor to point out how wonderful it is that Shabbos observance is widespread, nor to mock the Shabbos ignorance of previous generations. The point is to note what today’s parking lot layer tells us about ourselves: we are not that much different than them.

What were those people who created a Yom Kippur traffic jam doing at Beth Jacob in the first place? There were no surprises about what the shul stood for, what the rabbi was going to speak about and what religious standards were being encouraged. Few of those involved actually lived the life of an Orthodox Jew, so why did they build a stunning physical edifice to house, embody and project the message of a true and Divinely authored Torah?

The answer is that the Jewish soul knows what is real and what is not, what is holy and what is not, always yearns for something more, and—here’s the clincher—there always is more. For one generation, merely being associated with an Orthodox shul, during an era when the prevailing wisdom was that the Torah is only relatively true but certainly not absolutely true, was an act of devotion. Affiliation with a Torah synagogue was an affirmation that, though I don’t live up to the demands of the Torah, I will not succumb to the temptation to change them to accommodate my behavior, and I will pass the Torah on to the next generation.

The parking lot layers issue a challenge to us: “You say you are Shabbos observant? Know, like we did, that there is more to Shabbos than how you observe it. There will be generations of Jews after you who, building on your devotion, will have even greater clarity than you have about Hashem, His Shabbos and how to live lives permeated with holiness. The Shabbos you so proudly celebrate is not only the Shabbos you know, it is the Shabbos yet to be achieved. The shul you congregate in is not merely a gathering place for people of common commitment. It is an island of Emes in an ocean of obfuscation. Hold on to it and treasure it; it will lead you and future generations to an even closer encounter with Hashem.”

Rabbi Ilan D. Feldman is senior rabbi of Beth Jacob Atlanta.

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