My Story 4

My feelings towards Chabad were extremely positive at that point. I have never, before or since, seen a group of people so completely dedicated to their ideals, that they would go to the ends of the Earth to bring Judaism to their wayward brothers and sisters. Money and fame didn't seem to drive them. There is no group without a few bad apples, but, as far as I could see, the overwhelming majority "walked the walk". This was before Chabad emissaries were ubiquitous. True, rabbis had been sent out to communities in order to teach and guide, but these were mostly "poskim", rabbis well versed in Jewish law, who often became the main rabbinical figures in their towns. It would be several more years until young families were sent out, usually big on enthusiasm, less so on erudition. There were, however, aspects that troubled me almost from the beginning. First of all, there was no indication that what I was being taught was a special interpretation of Judaism. This WAS Judaism. Everyone who was Orthodox believed the same things, but many were too full of themselves to admit that Chabad was the best, nay the only way. Everything had a single answer. Those rabbis and groups who openly opposed them were people who, deep down, rejected G-d. Non-Jews had a lower soul, and were barely human. I had then, as now, many non-Jewish friends. I had great difficulty seeing them as anything but human, and fine human beings to boot. This gave me great anguish. (I later realized that they were speaking from the pain of two thousand years of relentless persecution, worse in Czarist Russia than most places, and still worse under Communism). The two most famous non-Chabad Orthodox rabbis in New York were often spoken about in mocking terms. (This changed many years later, when both came to visit the Lubavitcher Rebbe. They both became "kosher"). As I began to read more, and speak with other Orthodox Jews, I was hearing very different ideas. When I asked the rabbis who were teaching me, they either said "So, if good is good, then better isn't better?" or simply "those people are seriously mistaken". The famous "openness" of Chabad was really an openness to accept everybody into their organization, not an openness to accept other ideas as potentially valid. Once a person became Lubavitch, total conformity to their customs and traditions was demanded. Even other forms of Hasidism were seen as "watered down". There was only one Chassidus, which only Chabad proclaimed clearly and openly. I gained a lot in terms of knowledge and spirituality, but I was faced with ideas that were very difficult to accept. They supported Talmudic science over modern discoveries. For them, the Sun still circled the Earth. Insects were formed from filth and decay.The one that troubled me the most was their insistence on a literal interpretation of aggadah in all things. That there once existed giants bigger than the mountains, or that BILLIONS of people lived in the Land of Israel until the Romans slaughtered them, was very hard to swallow. A pivotal event in my life and thinking occurred around this issue. I started college in 1966. The campus rabbi was Modern Orthodox. As baalei teshuvah were still exceedingly rare, he was curious how I was relating to what I was learning and experiencing. I told him that I found it very rewarding, but that the aggadah was putting a wedge between me and full acceptance of Judaism, and I wasn't sure I could continue. To my amazement, he said that Judaism does NOT accept the aggadah literally, and this was backed up by RAMBAM. I went back to the rabbi who was teaching me, and told him what I had heard. "NOOOO! RAMBAM never said that! He is lying!" A few days later, I met the campus rabbi, and told him that he had lied to me.(Remember, I was only seventeen). "I lied to you?!?! Let's look at what RAMBAM wrote". Sure enough, there it was in black and white, in his commentary to the Mishnah, RAMBAM wrote that the aggadah is allegory, Anyone who does take it literally is a fool, and should keep his mouth shut, so we should not all be considered fools. I was stunned. I went back to the rabbi who was teaching me. "Oy! Why did he show you that? I didn't want to confuse you!" I now knew that I wasn't necessarily being given truth, but was being sold a party line. I cannot deny that I would not be where I am if not for Chabad. I am grateful for all they did for me. But I began to see that I must learn sources for myself,  hear all ideas, but seek the truth on my own. I began to go to lectures given by various rabbis, and I dove into sources. I began to see that what I had been taught was a combination of extreme stringencies, as well as extreme leniencies. It all boiled down to Chabad traditions. I began drifting away from the Chabad book of customs, and more towards the classical codes, and the responsa literature. I thought of going elsewhere, but where? Modern Orthodoxy seemed to me superficial, and even schizophrenic (it still does!). I attended graduate school at Yeshiva University. Many of the professors were also Orthodox rabbis. But they made a distinction between what we should DO, and the "truth". For instance, my main professor believed that we are observing the Shavu'ot holiday on the wrong date. I asked him if this was not heresy. "No, I keep it according to the halachah. I just think the halachah is wrong". I was shocked. This was both heresy, and hypocrisy. Perhaps what I had learned at Chabad was correct; there was nothing outside Chabad of any value. I stayed with Chabad for another four years after graduate school. What changed? That will be the next part of my story.