All Rabbis are NOT Created Equal part 3

I have written previously (in my series about Kabbalah) about the rise and development of Hasidism. Here, I wish to concentrate on the new form of leadership that it gave birth to; the Hasidic Rebbe. The founder of Hasidism, Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov, has become so surrounded in legends, that it is extremely difficult to separate fact from fiction. Although some Hasidic groups claim to possess the original teachings of the Baal Shem Tov, Hungarian Hasidim are adamant that these have been completely forgotten, and those purported to be the original teachings are fanciful reconstructions. I must say that I agree with this position. One early 20th century historian even theorized that he never existed. Fortunately, we now possess reliable information on the man, discovered in original documents that came to light with the fall of the Iron Curtain in the early 1990s. In contemporary documents, he is described as a physician or healer. Contrary to the claims of many, he was a noted scholar, as evidenced by the fact that many rabbinic responsa from that time carry the proviso "to be accepted as law only with the approval of Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov".  What emerges from the documents is that he was a healer by profession, but was also a mystic. He would heal not only bodies, but souls. Rather than the cerebral approach of the traditional Ashkenazi rabbis, his was visceral. He emphasized joy and exuberance. He would deal with common men and women, bridging the dichotomy of body and soul. One might go to a traditional rabbi for advice in one's personal affairs, as well as halachah, But the Baal Shem Tov was different. People were taught a perspective of the imminence of G-d, and how to translate that into one's personal life.  To be sure, the Torah way of life was central to his view, but it was secondary to a sense of connectedness to G-d. Contrary to legend, he seems to have had no opposition, and was beloved by Jew and Gentile alike. He also had an inner circle of scholars and mystics whom he directed in accordance with his spiritual approach. These became Rebbes in their own right. Once Hasidism became a movement, after the passing of the Baal Shem Tov, fierce opposition arose. That it did not emphasize scholarship was seen as scandalous. Although observing halachah, the Hasidim in the era following the Baal Shem Tov would often accept a lenient, minority view, if it was felt that this would bring them closer to G-d. This was especially true of the fixed times for prayer. Among Hasidim, they would often ignore the times fixed in the halachic codes, in order to prepare themselves mentally and emotionally to encounter G-d. One leading Hasidic figure was even opposed to the study of Talmud, as he saw this study as leading not to G-d, but to a meaningless scholasticism. Others did not go that far, but all put the emphasis not on knowledge, but on devekut; clinging to G-d. The institution of the Hasidic Rebbe was born. One would tell him one's hopes, fears, successes and failures. He would guide, encourage, and help put things into their proper context. He may or may not be a scholar, or even an ordained rabbi. Among the Hasidim. there were, to be sure, rabbinic scholars as well, but they were now more resources, rather than leaders. Many of the Rebbes were also known as miracle workers, which further scandalized the Yeshiva world. But the Rebbe was seen as one who grasps Heaven and Earth at the same time. Everywhere was hope, everywhere was G-d. In the early days of the movement, the place of women rose far beyond that which had previously been the case, or has ever been since. The Baal Shem Tov's daughter and granddaughter, while not assuming titles, both were leaders. The latter was even known as "the Prophetess". One prominent 20th century Rebbe, who left no sons, was succeeded by his nephew. However, a significant portion of his followers chose, instead, to follow his widow. The new movement was excommunicated by the prominent rabbis of the time. For their part, the Hasidim saw the classical yeshiva style of Judaism as lacking true Jewish spirit. Early on, they began referring to the non-Hasidic scholars as "Tzelem Kep" (Cross heads!), a term still heard in some groups. But the Rebbes eventually went in divergent paths. That will be the next part of our story.

All Rabbis are NOT Created Equal part 2

The introduction of the new smichah in the 14th century meant that for Ashkenazi communities, rabbinical candidates could no longer be self-styled scholars, or of questionable integrity. How was a layman supposed to decide who was and wasn't a qualified rabbi? Now, no one could present himself to a community without documentation. This system was in place for some 350 years. Around 1700, a  new institution arose in Eastern Europe; the Yeshiva. There had been Yeshivot before, but they were generally students gathered around a particular rabbi. Now, great academies were set up, with several scholars, albeit with one as the Rosh Yeshiva (dean). Students were expected to spend every waking hour in study of Talmud and halachah. As this was just after the Shabbetai Tzvi debacle (see my series on Kabbalah), care was taken to keep the new Yeshivot strictly academic, so as not to arouse emotions that might lead to more heresies. There would soon be a backlash, in the form of Hasidism, which is based primarily on emotion and spirituality, which generally disparaged the Yeshiva system of scholarship only. That, however, is a story for another day. After a student had studied for years, and had a formidable knowledge of Torah sources, and had shown himself worthy in other ways, he would be granted smichah from the Yeshiva. However, that smichah would NOT entitle him to accept a communal position. He would first apprentice under a recognized rabbinic figure, in a sort of internship. He would participate in marriages, divorces, adjudication of disputes, ruling on menstrual questions, kashrut questions, and more. After a period of a few years, the mentoring rabbi would give him his personal smichah. He could now present himself to a community. These mentoring rabbis usually had communal positions, but also had their own Yeshiva as well. The brightest and best often became teachers in these Yeshivot, completely dedicated to in-depth study. Soon, the shift of European Jewry shifted from following their own rabbi, to looking for guidance from these Rashei Yeshiva (heads, deans of a Yeshiva). We now had two kinds of rabbis; the lesser scholars out "in the field", and the all-star rabbis who had plunged into the depths of Torah in a way that one who was involved in day-to-day communal life could never hope to. These became the "Gedolim". the "great ones". Although this makes a lot of sense, it also means the rabbis of great influence were not involved with, or even aware of, the needs of communities. This situation is still the norm in "yeshivish" communities. When a rabbi presents himself to a community for consideration, a question he is always asked is "who will be answering the questions we ask you?" The "A list" rabbis are not the one's in the communities., They are the Rashei Yeshiva; the "Gedolim". Many congregational rabbis are far too busy to have in depth study sessions. So, we see, even in the "Yeshiva World", rabbis are not created equal. The communal rabbis are almost always subservient to a "Gadol" to make the tough decisions. In a sense, they are merely his representatives. Independent thought is discouraged. But storm clouds were on the horizon. Hasidism from the East, and Reform from the West, would challenge, and ultimately break away from the new system. New definitions of the word "rabbi" were to arise. That will be the next part of our story.

All Rabbis are NOT Created Equal part 1

One of the most disturbing things to me is that most people think that a rabbi is a rabbi is a rabbi. How does one become a rabbi? What, if anything, are his powers and authority? Do they all study the same things? Is there a central organization that "keeps them honest"? In previous posts I have written, I have expounded on the roots of the problem. I have not, however, gone into the implications for us today. I now wish to do that.
A brief recap of the issue is as follows. Strictly speaking, there has been no such thing as a rabbi since the fourth century. A line of ordination was begun by Moses. It established Torah authority as commanded in Deuteronomy 17:8-13. One receiving this ordination was empowered to rule authoritatively in all areas of Torah law. He was qualified to be on a Beit Din (Court), although not everyone who was ordained was necessarily on a court. The Byzantines were opposed to the Jews having courts, or any leadership for that matter, as they sought to impose their own civil laws, as well as their newfound Christian religion. They saw the continued existence of Judaism as an affront to Christianity. They murdered numerous rabbis, until the chain of ordination was broken. We can see that in the Talmud, some of the Sages are designated as Rabbi, some as Rav. The former had received smichah (ordination) the latter had not. All recognized scholars could teach, but acceptance of the rulings of the non-ordained was dependent on the willingness of the community to adhere to what they were saying. Those with smichah had the full force of Torah behind them. I have discussed in previous posts the attempts throughout the centuries to restart the chain, and even whether or not such a thing is possible. But, the fact remains, that no one has commanded universally recognized authority in the last 1600 years. But communities needed leadership. Scholars were chosen to lead and to instruct. Some scholars had reputations and were highly regarded beyond their own communities. Some communities, however, accepted people with little training (or even integrity) as their spiritual leaders. In the fourteenth century, a prominent German rabbi who sought to standardize the level of knowledge of the rabbis in the various communities introduced a symbolic ordination. It carried no halachic weight, but required every candidate for a rabbinic position to undergo scrutiny and testing by this recognized authority. In this way, it was hoped, the unqualified would be weeded out. From then on, Ashkenazi rabbis were required to get this symbolic smichah from one who had it. Essentially, it was a letter of recommendation that the candidate was worthy. The smichah carried no power beyond any that is inherent in any other Jew, but it went a long way in keeping charlatans out of the rabbinate. The rabbi who instituted the new smichah later attempted to extend his authority to the Jews of France, but a huge international outcry arose. The accepted approach became to require a candidate to have this smichah, but his authority would only extend to the community that chose him, with other rabbis in other communities free to accept or reject his rulings. Sepharadic communities largely rejected this arrangement until the twentieth century. They understood that although there was a danger of charlatanism, there was an equal danger of one rabbi, or a group of rabbis, imposing their will on communities that had different ideas and different approaches. Sepharadic rabbis generally avoided the title "rabbi", and preferred "hacham" (sage), so as to avoid the appearance of power that was not theirs. Some even mocked the new smichah as a "doctorate". However, it is now common in Sepharadic communities as well. But who can give this smicha? On what basis is it given" What would the candidate need to know? Could a recognized rabbi impose another rabbi on a community? Are there levels of smichah? Is politics involved? These will be the topics in this series.