Sexual Tension: So Thick You Could Cut it With a Challah Knife

There is an astounding amount of sexual tension between the Beren and Wilf campuses at Yeshiva University. You have two groups of people who, from childhood, have been either explicitly or implicitly told that having a relationship with a member of the opposite sex is not an ideal in the eyes of (or is completely forbidden by) their religious authority. You have two groups of people who have come from societies where the more rebellious and unsavory elements are those associated with the opposite sex. Now, all of a sudden, these two groups of people, male and female, are thrust together and told: not only is it allowed to now associate, but also go find your bashert!

But wait, we still do not trust you. No girls in the lounges past twelve. No boys in the lounges past ten. And nobody upstairs, at all.

Let's face it, these mixed messages, newfound freedoms, and ever-present teenage hormones collide at Yeshiva on a daily basis. From the shuttle to the Shabbatons, students have to deal with this problem, this sexual tension that is (and read this very slowly so it sinks in) the one constant in every interaction between the two campuses. It is that thick feeling that permeates every event, meeting, activity, organization, occasion, happening, occurrence, incident, episode, and affair that takes place between the Wilf and Beren campuses.

Is there nothing wrong with this picture? Should sexual tension be such a prevalent issue? Where does institutional responsibility end and individual responsibility begin? Should we stick with a status quo which is antiquated at best? Is it even realistic to contemplate change?

The current environment at Yeshiva is a breeding ground for social awkwardness, public displays of affection, objectification of the opposite sex, broken engagements, and, worst of all, failed marriages. This is not a bold claim in the least. Empirical data supports all of these statements with frightening clarity.

The social awkwardness stems from the constant background pressure of marriage. With this emphasis on pro-marital relationships, consciously or not, Yeshiva infuses an underlying tension between its male and female students. A tension that stems from the constant prowl for the opposite sex. The boy who holds the door open for you, the girl who hands you the book, that person could be the one. This attitude is only reinforced by the stories of people who do meet and get married through those very ways. This makes every interaction socially awkward, in the sense that you are asking yourself "could I see myself with this person for the rest of my life?"

The resulting tension leads to the objectification of the opposite sex. By focusing on the boy holding the door open for you, you miss out on the fact that he has a name. The girl who hands you the book, she has her own story. Those who label an entire body of people with the prejudices of marriage sadly avoid true relationships with those very individuals.

Objectification of the opposite sex, in the context of marriage, has horrible consequences. People rush headlong into relationships with the sole intention of getting married. Caught up in their illusion of bliss, a relationship built upon mutual objectification is potentially disastrous.

This simply cannot be ideal. When the founders of Yeshiva created this institution, this cannot be what they had in mind. More than likely they either wanted a healthy interaction between the male and female students or they wanted complete separation. Well, if this is the compromise, it is not working. It is hurting.

This issue is really a manifestation of a bigger problem. Does Yeshiva, as a secular and religious institution, have the moral obligation to legislate the behavior of legal adults? To a certain extent this is a theoretical question. As students we sign that right over when we enroll. But, with the harmful results of the University's control over male and female interaction, the question must be posed.

Legal adults have a certain amount of autonomy. This autonomy is limited or nurtured by cultural conventions, social responsibilities, moral obligations, and religious beliefs. There is a fine line between limiting and nurturing, and most of the time that line can be a matter of perspective. But sometimes there is a stark difference. Yeshiva's control of campus interaction, after all that has been described, simply cannot be defined as nurturing. It perverts healthy relationships by succumbing to the pressures of an archaic view of young adult interaction, namely the sense of urgency to get married.

In modern society there are many expected and acceptable forms of interaction between members of the opposite sex that are extra-marital. From working in an office, to studying for a test, and even to grabbing some lunch with a co-worker, social interaction with the opposite sex is a reality. In today's society this reality exists without the expectation and pressure of marriage. One hundred years ago, in Eastern Europe, one could avoid these kinds of interaction. The main interaction was, in fact, marriage. But as part of modern society, and as part of an institution that stands for the marriage of Torah u-Madda, we should not avoid these relationships. In fact, these common relationships should be embraced and enhanced by a commitment to Torah values.

The structure of Yeshiva, as it is now, represents a struggle between modern social norms and antiquated attitudes. A dual commitment to an Orthodox lifestyle and a secular society will always be a struggle. Yeshiva does not have to struggle with this particular problem... but it does have to choose.

This University has reached a defining moment. Do we celebrate traditional and sometimes antiquated perspectives of education and social interaction by maintaining an outdated and harmful status quo? Or do we embrace a new structure, one that reflects social norms but enhances them with the values of Torah?

Matt Williams (YC '10) is the Associate News Editor of The Commentator