My Story 46

The nine of us were camped out in Jay's tiny apartment. We slept on the floor, and ate out of cans, as Jay did not keep kosher. But we were glad to be together, safe and free. Jay's Satmar friend was a young man named Abie Appeldorfer. He was a poor teacher in a Satmar elementary school. When he saw our plight, the first thing he did was to commit to bringing us homemade sandwiches every day. He then took my sons to a tailor, to be fitted for suits; the first they had ever owned. He promised to make arrangements for us for Shabbat. I assumed that we would be divided up among several families. But that is not the Satmar way. Our entire family was hosted by the families of prominent rabbis in their community. The rabbis and their families wanted this mitzvah for their very own, so we spent Shabbat with a different family on each of the three Shabbatot we had in Boro Park. I shall never forget the outpouring of warmth and generosity of these people. Now, twenty-two years later, we are still in touch with Abie, and some of these families. They knew that I was waiting for a position to come through in a non-Orthodox synagogue. That didn't matter to them, as they realized that my intent was to strengthen Jewishness wherever I might go. It was, after all, Satmar and Satmar-related rabbis who had taught me to distinguish between what were real issues, and what were simply artificial policies aimed at delegitimizing what was perceived as deviational. The former needed negating, the latter could be ignored in order to teach and bring closer to Torah. Satmar has little, if any, regard for the rabbis who had waged war on Conservatism in the twentieth century, seeing them as little more than Conservative or Reform rabbis themselves, as they were distorting sources. The Satmars saw me as "a heimishe Rov in a Modernish Beis Medrish" (A home-style Rabbi in a "Modern" synagogue"; "Modern" covering everything from Reform to Lithuanian style Modern Orthodoxy). During my seventeen-year absence, much had changed. When I had left in 1984, Orthodox rabbis in non-Orthodox synagogues were common, and generally well respected. Now, such rabbis were seen as pariahs. I had hoped that I and my sons could supplement our income by writing and selling mezzuzot. No one would touch them. Many synagogues would not even count me in a minyan, and still won't. My sons would be called to the Torah, but not me. Some institutions did help us, but we were seen as a reclamation project, more than as full-fledged Orthodox Jews. Only Satmar stood by our side, and continues to do so, themselves considered a hated community, outside the Pale. To be fair, Conservatism had also changed. Until about 1980, the movement was overwhelmingly halachic; albeit with some very lenient opinions that made Orthodox Jews cringe. Now the Egalitarian issue brought about a fundamental change. Virtually all Conservative scholars favored greater roles for women, wherever this was possible within the halachic framework. But a policy was promulgated by the lay governing body that the hour demanded that egalitarianism be accepted across the board. A few of their top professors left in protest, either becoming Orthodox, or remaining somewhere in between. The august Committee on Law and Standards became a rubber stamp for nearly all non-halachic innovations; whether for women's issues, Shabbat observance, LGBT issues, and beyond. They would simply declare a "rabbinic enactment" declaring a particular law of the Torah as null and void, either temporarily, or permanently. However, the theological debates and their significance were not the concern of the rank-and-file congregants, who mostly wanted to maintain a modicum of Jewish life, and left questions such as egalitarianism to the "professionals". There are not nearly enough Conservative rabbis to fill these posts. They also do not come cheap; usually commanding triple the salary of an Orthodox rabbi. Most smaller Conservative synagogues employ non-Conservative clergy. Once, this clergy was overwhelmingly Orthodox. Many Orthodox rabbis, whose names you would know, had been in Conservative pulpits. But my return in 2001 found few authentic rabbis in these positions. A colleague in a Suburban New York Conservative synagogue, whose daughters were attending the ultra-Orthodox Beis Yaakov School System, was called into the principal's office. "We have learned that you are a rabbi .in a Conservative synagogue. Your daughters are expelled". "What about the people who have come to be Shabbat observers through me. Should I tell them to stop keeping Shabbat?" The principal thought a moment and then said "Yes". The result of this attitude has kept real Orthodox rabbis away from these pulpits, with these congregations hiring instead self-styled rabbis, rabbis with bogus credentials, or those who have gone through two-week seminars to receive ordination. One may question if these policies help preserve the integrity of Orthodoxy, or simply cut off the majority of Jews from access to Torah. I believe the latter is true. The mainline Orthodox leadership in the United States accepts the former. It is my belief that they will be called to answer for this one day. I feel I hold the moral high ground. Only Satmar stood at my side. I will not forget this either. In July, 2001, my position at the Island Park Jewish center came through. Ten years of heaven had begun for us, followed by a year of hell. More to come.