The Commentator

With apologies to my tenth grade Jewish History teacher, I admit that I do not remember much of what I learned in that class.  But I will never forget the mantra she repeated numerous times: “Jewish History does not take place in a vacuum.”  The historical path of Am Yisrael has been shaped by numerous sociological and political dynamics of the “outside” environment.  In the same vein, the religious journey of a single member of Am Yisrael must both incorporate and influence a larger context.  Religious growth cannot take place in a vacuum either. 

The modern Hebrew word for religious, “Dati,” does not appear in Torah or Nevi’im.  The approximate parallel used most often in Tanakh is “Kadosh.”  What, exactly, does “Kadosh” mean?  The mandate of Kedusha for Am Yisrael appears in juxtaposition to another phrase: Mamlekhet Kohanim.[i]  A Kohen, a priest, serves as a bridge between the ordinary and the Divine, an ordinary person with an extraordinary role to play.  Rabbi Menachem Leibtag often affirms the idea that Kedusha connotes a single item distinguished from a whole for the exclusive purpose of elevating that whole.  One example is a Kohen amidst his people; another is Shabbat.  We distinguish Shabbat from the other days of the week in several ways, but the purpose of Shabbat is to rejuvenate our spiritual lives and inspire our other six days until Shabbat arrives again.  Shabbat is the quintessential example of one dimension of Kedusha, Kedushat Zman.  In addition to time, Kedusha also expresses itself in the two dimensions of space- Kedushat Makom, and of personality- Kedushat Adam.  True religious growth, or an increase in Kedusha, must somehow radiate an influence outwards in each of the dimensions of time, space, and personality. 

The time of greatest religious upheaval, change and growth in our community is, undoubtedly, the period of young adulthood: roughly between the ages of 17 and 24.  With the year or years in Israel at the core of the process and the setting-in of semi-reality that follows, many members of the Modern Orthodox world oscillate between several different viewpoints and Hashkafot during these years.  As part of natural development, one’s sense of idealism peaks during this same time.  Combining that with a relatively light set of responsibilities and commitments yields a young person eager to “do it all” religiously and who sees no reason why anyone would do otherwise.  These are years of great religious acceleration for many members of our community.  But even putting aside the dangers of accelerating too quickly and reaching higher speeds than one can control, it is simply untrue that a few years of religious acceleration can provide the power for a lifetime of religious commitment.  Yes, these first years of independence can provide great opportunities for a head start on religious growth, but nothing more than that.  A curriculum for religious life must include long-term plans for continued opportunities to exploreTorah  and spirituality.  Just as the Kedushat Zman of Shabbat must radiate into the week that follows, the active pursuit of greater Kedusha during the Zman of young adulthood must be revisited and revitalized periodically throughout one’s life.

That is not an easy task.  As an intellectual Modern Orthodox woman who by nature gravitates towards Limud Torah as a source of spiritual expression, I wonder anxiously about my ability to cultivate spirituality when I will reach the stages of life that lie beyond the (new) Beren Campus Beit Midrash.  For men as well, I presume that the prospect of leaving the Beit Midrash (in a formal way, anyway) after several years of utilizing it as a spiritual home base can be quite daunting.  But it should not be paralyzing.  After all, religious expression outside the Makom Kadosh of the Beit Midrash may not feel like home, but it should not be completely foreign either.  Rav Aharon Lichtenstein compares the concept of “spiritual specialization” to a major within a liberal arts education.[ii]  While a majority of young men and some young women “major” in Limud Torah during these formative years of religious development, that cannot be to the absolute exclusion of the other “core subjects” of Avodah and Gemillut Hasadim, which also provide valid and valuable options for “religious majors” if one so chooses.  And it goes without saying that any number of hours spent learning cannot make up for violating basic standards of ethical conduct.  At times, we all find ourselves in situations that involve interacting with someone other than Hakhmei Hamesorah.  As undergraduates in Yeshiva University, we have a somewhat unique opportunity for a practicum in applying Torah beyond the Beit Midrash while still seriously engaged in its theoretical study.  Overall, the student body is failing the practicum miserably. When “very frum” students have absolutely no reservations about publicly discussing their plans of copying an assignment from a friend in a different lab section, it indicates that our undergraduate community’s standards for acceptable behavior need serious readjustment.  In the discussion that I overheard, one of the students added a caveat of “I don’t usually do this but…”.  Would the same social circle accept, “I don’t usually spend Friday night at a club but…”, or “I don’t usually eat in treif restaurants but…”?  The issue of Hillul Hashem if the cheating is discovered has no bearing on the fact that it is simply reprehensible behavior.  Whether for an ordinary assignment, a final paper or an exam, the prospect of cheating should disgust the sensitivities of any Oved Hashem.  If the experience of religious growth limits itself to the four walls of the Beit Midrash and the four Amot of ritualistic halakha, it cannot be called Kedusha.  A true increase in Kedusha within a person will express itself in his or her moral standards and how s/he treats other people, davka outside the Beit Midrash. 

Treating other people correctly begins with our own families and friends in areas like rechilut, but it does not end there.  Achieving greater heights in our own kedushat Adam through the religious growth of these years must be accompanied by a realization of the potential for kedushat Adam in all Jews and the Tzelem Elokim inherent in all people.  Besides applying a sense of Kedusha to the areas of life inherently outside the Beit Midrash, we need to recognize our responsibility to, as it were, bring other people inside the world of the Beit Midrash.  Torah cannot only be learned; it must be taught.  Undergraduate students have innumerable opportunities to act as emissaries of Torah and Torah values to those outside the immediate undergraduate community.  These include, but are not limited to, participating in TLN, NCSY and other kiruv projects, and the UJC General Assembly. 

While the opportunities to exercise a proper sense of morality present themselves to us during the course of a normal day, the opportunities to offer the wisdom of Torah to others require a commitment of our most precious resource: our time.  The basis for the Mitzvah of Tzedakah is a realization that every resource a person has is really only on loan from G-d; it is a tool he has been given in order to accomplish a certain task.  Someone who has been blessed financially has concurrently been charged with the task of Tzedakah; few of us would respect a millionaire who stingily hoards every penny he makes with no regards to social welfare.  Time is no different.  We have been granted the gift of living in the era of extended adolescence.  While we have this time of limited responsibilities, we cannot hoard it all exclusively for our own religious development.   It astounds me to hear that some students believe that the Center for the Jewish Future should not run certain training programs because they conflict with Night Seder.  Do not participate if you so choose, but do not invalidate the desire of others to invest some time in caring for the development of others.  In fact, respect it.  And take care that you, too, find a way to ensure that your personal religious development can earn the Shem of Kedusha by impacting those who have not had the opportunities that you have had. 

Shlomo Hamelekh built the Beit Hamikdash with windows that were Shkufim Atumim.[iii]  The Gemara in Menachot[iv] explains that these windows were cut on an angle such that they were narrow on the inside and wider on the outside to show that “Lo L’Orah Ani Tzaruch”: G-d does not need light.  If G-d does not need light, though, why were there windows at all?  Perhaps Rashi’s comment on the Gemara there answers this question.  He comments that this design, in fact, ensured that the maximum amount of the inner light of the Mikdash would shine outwards.  We do not have the Beit Hamikdash, but we can take a lesson from Shlomo Hamelekh, the wisest of all men, in relation to the years of early adulthood that we have been Mekadesh for religious growth.  We must create Halonei Shkufim Atumim so that the increased light within can shine outwards.  Religious growth cannot take place in a vacuum of time, nor of space, nor of personality.  A beginning physics student practices equations with situations that occur in a vacuum, because a vacuum does not have certain factors that can interrupt one’s careful calculations: it’s easier that way.  But the answers obtained from those calculations also cannot be transferred to real life.  Real religious growth cannot take place in a vacuum.

Chava Chaitovsky is a senior at Stern College for Woman.  She is majoring in Judaic Studies and Psychology.

Article Tools