The Theological Concessions of Modern Orthodoxy

Perhaps one of the most significant difficulties in articulating a coherent ideology lies in honestly facing up to the potential drawbacks or downsides of that ideology relative to other systems of thought that aim to address the same issues. The subjection of a deeply-held stance to a critical evaluation, including an assessment of the problems it engenders, can be painful and discomfiting. The candid acknowledgement of the disadvantages of one's own viewpoint is valuable insofar as it leads to pluralism and respect for divergent opinions and, in the ideal, to a higher level of understanding which can resolve some of the difficulties in one's own ideology. With that introduction, it is my intention in this article to examine some of the difficulties in the Modern Orthodox hashkafah. Admittedly, in a realm as subjective as hashkafic inquiry, one man's in hakhi nami (granted principle) might be another man's teyuvta (refutation of a perceived commonly-held principle) and yet another's lo kashya (no difficulty posed to that principle), so this may indeed be more of a personal statement than anything else. In conducting this discussion, one eye must be turned outward and the other focused inward. The Haredi community's critique of our community relates not only to the alleged laxity in observance of its adherents but also - and I believe more fundamentally - to the perceived heterodoxy, or at least illegitimacy, of its basic assumptions. (Of course, they see the two as inextricably linked.) To whatever extent their arguments have merit, intellectual honesty dictates that we acknowledge them, at least as a preliminary step to countering them. Far more importantly, however, is that the very continuity of our movement depends on the acceptance of our ideology by subsequent generations. As the phenomenon of "flipping out" demonstrates, the Haredi ideology has proven itself compelling to significant numbers of Modern Orthodox youth. On the flip side, our lack of insulation from broader society allows for much exposure of our adolescents to the secularist worldview. While the problem of keeping our children "in the fold" is more the concern of pedagogy, it seems unquestionable that dropout rates must at least in part be attributed to ideological rejection of Modern Orthodoxy. It is precisely the uncomfortable truths of the Modern Orthodox hashkafah that, unpalatable to the idealistic youngster, particularly if his or her teachers have not honestly engaged these issues, are apt to lead to tergiversation. Identifying these potential pitfalls is thus important from an educational perspective as well. The Modern Orthodox ideology considered here will be that associated with the familiar principle of Torah u-Madda as articulated and implemented by Yeshiva, which encompasses three distinct propositions. Firstly, that the engagement with the secular, whether through the study of Madda or the participation in cultural activities, carries religious meaning. Secondly, that academic disciplines, including Jewish Studies are, for the most part, legitimate in their assumptions and methodologies, and that their results are to be taken seriously in Modern Orthodox thought. Thirdly, that Judaism stands to gain through dialogue with contemporary Western society in the realm of ideas and values. The theological difficulties that arise when these axioms are applied have been thoroughly, and highly critically, explored in the Haredi press. However, it is in the nature of polemic to leave assumptions unstated, to exaggerate, and to substitute bombast for analysis; these characteristics make the Haredi response less than useful for our purposes. This article's analysis will be conducted a priori. The first difficulty to be considered is the assignment of intrinsic religious value to secular culture. Working from classical rabbinic texts, it is easy to find sources extolling the value of economic productivity, or parnasah, with some going so far as to assert that Torah study without work is valueless. However, statements that impute religious value to secular culture or study of disciplines other than Torah require a great deal of ingenuity to locate. The scant support for these latter ideas continues through the generations to this day. While some authorities, such as Maimonides, R. S. R. Hirsch, and R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik, have (variously) found a place for secular studies within their religious frameworks, most have followed the simple interpretation of the dictum of R. Hiyya bar Ami: "From the day of the Temple's destruction, [God] has nothing in His world but the four ells of Halakhah." Thus, the Modern Orthodox position must discard the comfortable assurance that the masorah provides the indisputable answers on all religious matters. Torah u-Madda must also confront sources such as "Delve into [the Torah], and continue to delve into it, for everything is in it," and "[God] looked at the Torah and created the world," which posit that the Torah is not only the basis of Judaism but indeed of the universe itself, the repository of all knowledge. However, no one who takes the natural sciences seriously can accept this statement on a rational level; nowhere does any Jewish text describe quantum field theory or molecular biology. A more limited view of the nature of Torah must be upheld, which, needless to say, is not as satisfying as the maximalist view. The issue of the obligation of Torah study has also been raised in this context. Given the unquestioned preeminence given to talmud Torah in rabbinic Judaism, can higher secular education be legitimately defended? Certainly, Judaism mandates the pursuit of a livelihood, but this is possible without a college degree. If one is possessed of the financial wherewithal to spend four years in an institution of higher learning, should that not be a yeshivah rather than a university, in order to maximize the time for Torah study? Is it necessary to fall back to the seemingly radical position that the study of Madda is not only religiously worthwhile, but even a fulfillment of talmud Torah? The second issue to be addressed is that of academic Jewish Studies. While the rise of the study of Jews and Judaism as an academic discipline has, indisputably, greatly increased our knowledge of Jewish history and has enriched our understanding of our classical texts through the study of linguistics, realia, and cultural contexts, this comes at a price. Most obviously, much of academic Jewish Studies run counter to the principles of Jewish belief, as in the cases of its conclusions regarding the authorship and historicity of the Tanakh; its assumption that prophetic texts must be regarded as vaticinium ex eventu; its denial of an accurate chain of transmission of fixed texts and beliefs in the biblical, Second Temple, and talmudic periods; and its full-out assault on the roots of the halakhic system manifested in critical Talmud scholarship. Where to draw lines in the sand is a difficult question. It should be apparent, though, that each instance in which the results of scholarship are accepted is a theological concession. For example, consider the claim that the stories, laws, and poetry of Tanakh must be understood in relation to their Ancient Near Eastern context. This directly impinges upon two principles. Firstly, the timeless relevance of a Torah that devotes significant space to rehashing of Mesopotamian or Canaanite myth now long forgotten, even if such rehashing is understood as polemic, is difficult to assert. Secondly, it implies that Torah is not self-contained, but requires knowledge of outside disciplines, unavailable to two millennia of Jewish interpreters and commentators, to understand fully. An issue quite separate from, but perhaps more fundamental than, that of the truth of these disciplines is the religious consequences of their study. Does not the disinterested, objective, academic study of Judaism, whether in "safe" areas such as Jewish history or "dangerous" areas such as biblical scholarship, inevitably lead to a deadening of spiritual passion and religious enthusiasm? Can we maintain our reverence for the Torah while viewing it as anti-pagan polemic as well as divine guidebook? Is our sense of mission and purpose as an am ha-nivhar (chosen people), whose destiny is guided by the divine hand, threatened by our historical consciousness of cause and effect and trends in Jewish history? If the answers to these questions are "yes," "no," and "yes," respectively, we should consider very seriously the possibility that it may not be worthwhile to engage in academic Jewish Studies at all. Finally, the issue of dialogue between secular ideas and Judaism is fraught with theological concerns. The first question to address is the necessity of such encounter: does not Judaism offer a self-contained, coherent way of viewing the world, not in need of secular ideas to fill any lacunae in its Weltanschauung. For Judaism would then be (to borrow a term from theoretical physics) a background-dependent theory, whose fundamental assumptions and principles are dependent upon cultural and historical context. One possible counter to this difficulty is the argument that, according to Torah u-Madda, secular ideas are utilized to explicate Judaism in terms of an understandable framework, rather than change its nature. This resolution, however, seems to imply that the employment of the secular is only a be-di-avad, which should certainly be a discomfiting thought. Another question that arises is the proper response when the values of Judaism and those of secular culture conflict. Obviously, when the clash is truly irreconcilable, Orthodoxy must choose tradition; however, many instances of disagreement are not as clear-cut. In a case where secular norms are not in line with traditional Jewish practice, but no fundamental principle of Judaism prohibits accommodating those values outright, to what extent can this accommodation be countenanced? The maximum possible? Not at all? Somewhere in between? Furthermore, what theological justification can be offered for subordinating tradition to modern ideas, which seems also to be no more than a post facto response to a non-ideal situation? Finally, as in the case of Jewish Studies, the pragmatic ramifications of engagement with secular ideals must also be considered. We cannot help but be influenced by values which are antithetical to a deeply religious worldview, such as the unmitigated individualism, disregard for authority, and the insistence, dominant in Europe but present in America as well, on entirely separating religious beliefs from public concerns. Does the value of dialogue with the secular obtain against the danger of contamination with these ideas? Given the phenomenon of "frum hedonism" in Modern Orthodox communities, and the lack of primacy given to religion in the worldviews of graduates of Modern Orthodox educational institutions, the answer seems bleak. Laying out these questions should, I hope, be only the first step towards articulating the answers. But, in the meanwhile, the honest acknowledgement of the difficulties inherent in our position is in and of itself intellectually and religiously valuable. For the future of our way of life in the 21st century, and for our own growth in yir'at shamayim, it is essential that we face up to the concessions that we make as Modern Orthodox Jews on a day-to-day basis. Engaging with the issues, after all, is what Modern Orthodoxy is, on its most basic level, all about.

Eli Putterman is a senior in MTA.