My Story 47

Island Park had voted to accept me. But the house that came with the job would not be ready for another month, as there was a tenant renting the place. I pleaded with the officers of the synagogue to be allowed to move into the synagogue building itself, as sleeping on Jay's floor was difficult for the family. They agreed, and provided us with air mattresses. Honestly, I didn't expect the position to last beyond the year in my contract. It seemed an unlikely arrangement; a family of Breslover Hasidim, kids with long pe'ot, a wife modestly dressed with covered hair, coming into a community where no one was actually observant, only a few kept kosher at home, many were, in fact, intermarried. I thought that this would be a relatively brief respite, giving me breathing space to find something else. But I was wrong. The vast majority of the people were friendly and tolerant. Several owned boats, and took my boys fishing. They were crazy about my kids, and showed it. My sermons were well received. My approach was to give them a sense of the reality and presence of G-d, and the place of Torah and Mitzvot in that formula. Previous rabbis had either talked at length about Jewish legends (non threatening) or had sharply rebuked them for being bad Jews. The people appreciated that I was offering hope. Only one family was suspicious of me. They had a daughter who had become Yeshivish Orhtodox and had moved to New Jersey, who assured them that everything I was doing and saying was wrong. She even called me once to scold me. The parents of that woman , although non-observant, would likewise often tell me I was wrong. I had long ago realized the meaning of narrow, one size fits all Lithuanian Yeshiva Judaism, represented by Rabbi ArtScroll, and thought as little of it as it thought of me. But the others were happy. Even Moses had dissenters and detractors, so I am in no position to complain. The position was officially part time. The salary was only $12,000 a year, plus the house to live in. But I was grateful for the opportunity; especially as fifty two year old rabbis are essentially unemployable in the U.S. I treated the job as essentially full time, having Sima and the kids as active as possible in the synagogue as well. When we did move into the house a month later, the people were extremely generous in donating furniture and clothing. We truly felt we were home. In many ways, these were the best ten years of my life.This happy state was to continue until merger talks began with another synagogue, which left me sharing a pulpit with someone of totally different views and observances (or lack thereof), and a hostile attitude from the executive board, fearing that I would mess up the merger. More of that in a later post. I reached out to the Jewish communities in nearby Oceanside and Long Beach. Oceanside treated me like I had leprosy. The rabbi at the time did befriend me, but had to stop because his wife was afraid that were it to become known that he was talking to a rabbi of a Conservative synagogue, he could lose his job. Such things actually happen. At his parting visit, he demanded an explanation for what I was doing. I said "OK, let's look at the sources". He said "never mind, I know you know more than I do". Two years later he was replaced. His successor would never give me more than a limp handshake. Long Beach was different. We were warmly welcomed, and the rabbis did everything possible to help us. This was especially true of finding schools for the kids. Our plan had been to home school the kids, as tuition in day schools ran about $17,000 per child; not an easy sum to come up with on a $12,000 salary. The wife of one of the rabbis negotiated with the schools on our behalf, getting them to agree to $1,000 a year for all the kids. Sadly, some of the more right wing people in town were appalled that we were being welcomed. They pressured the rabbis, and the warmth of the reception began to cool. One influential member of that community still remarks "Siegel, he's a good guy. But he made the mistake of taking the advice of Hungarian rabbis, who don't really know anything (!!!) and probably consider him a non-Jew anyway". In fact, I believe the exact opposite is true. So, my kids were now registered in day schools, something I had not imagined. When we applied to our local school board, we were told that bus transportation would not be possible. Similar to my experience in Israel with Hussein (who built our house for free), a new unlikely hero came into our lives. That will be my next post.

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.

My Story 45

As I look back on my seventeen years in Israel, my immediate reaction is " What a horror! I wish I had never heard of the State of Israel". At the same time, I learned and experienced many things that have made me who I am. One thing I learned was the necessity of balance in Judaism. The rabbis there discuss things that are never mentioned here. There are no topics that are "out of bounds".  Two-thirds of the laws of the Torah relate to the Temple. Nature abhors a vacuum, and, in the absence of a Temple, in rush custom and superstition. The recently coined PC term for this process is Mesorah; Tradition. That is "this is the way we've always done it, at least for 75 years!" One rarely hears this in Israel. There are those working to restore the Temple. But most seek instead to make sense of what remains, until such time as G-d restores His Temple. Also, the Torah forbids adding or detracting from its laws. If one takes one mitzvah, and makes that the be-all and end-all of Judaism, that is simply a cult mimicking Judaism. On the other hand, deliberately ignoring a mitzvah does the same thing. Declaring the place of the Land of Israel in Judaism as null and void is heresy. Making it the central theme of Judaism is as well. Much criticism has been leveled against Zionist leaders for their inaction during the holocaust (with a few exceptions). One pre-State Israeli politician even said "One cow in Eretz Yisrael is worth more than all European Jewry." Needless to say, that view was pure evil. One rarely hears in Israeli rabbinic circles "justifications" appealing to custom for these sins of omission or commission. Rabbis are constantly speaking and writing about the crooked paths that have been adopted over the years, and are urging their remediation. Whereas American rabbis are mostly trying to PRESERVE the status quo, most Israeli rabbis are trying to fix it. Whatever criticisms we may have of the Chief Rabbinate, their requirements for ordination are light-years ahead of anything that exists elsewhere. American and European Yeshivot test rabbis only on the laws of Kashrut. It is hoped that they will go on to proficiency in other areas. Some do. Most don't. It is thought that congregations need rabbis who can deal with their problems, not necessarily scholars. Rabbinic scholars do exist, but mostly as Yeshivah deans and teachers. The Israeli Rabbinate, on the other hand, requires proficiency not only in Kashrut, but in Shabbat, the laws of the Eruv, family purity, mourning, basic scribal law, Sabbatical Year law, some business law, marriage and divorce, and a host of others. In Israel, I could enter into a deep halachic discussion with almost any rabbi. Here, there are few who know what I am talking about. In the U.S. spirituality is hardly a topic that rabbis touch. In Israel, it is a pervasive theme for many. In addition, Israel, being the home to many Jewish communities, demands that we have a basic understanding and respect for other ways of belief and observance, so long as they conform with halachah. In America, there is a standard, "one size fits all" variation of Lithuanian Judaism, watered down into what many call "Rabbi ArtScroll", just a bit beyond the level of Rabbi Google. I think that one of the reasons for the success of Lubavitch is that it offers a more spiritual alternative to the usual fare. My first Shabbat back, I attended a Brooklyn Sepharadic synagogue. The rabbi, in his sermon, was waxing eloquent on the terrible prohibition of brushing one's teeth on Shabbat. I approached him quietly after the service, and told him that Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, and most other Sepharadic rabbis, permit this activity. "Really?!?!".The Ashkenazi Yeshivot had done their work. Another thing I learned was the necessity of reviewing one's ideology from time to time. Rabbi A.I. Kook, observing the beginnings of Zionism, concluded that this was the prophesied Redemption. Secularism was a passing phenomenon, which must be tolerated at "this stage". Had he lived to see the persecution of religion and the religious that occurred in the 1950s and 1960s (and to a lesser extent even now), I doubt that he would have said what he did. Just about three years ago, Ahmed Tibi, a close associate of Arafat and his successor, Abu Mazen, while also serving as a Knesset Member, made an impassioned speech from the floor of the Knesset about Israel's antisemitism (i.e., the disgust in which Hareidi Jews are held). But Rav Kook's followers still follow that path. As an Israeli saying goes "They're spitting on us, and we declare that it's raining". This has resulted in some very bizarre ideologies, which I have described. Much rhetoric has come from many circles whether Israel is good for the Jews or bad for the Jews. Cogent arguments can be made for both sides. Practically, however, the fall of Israel would mean another holocaust. Back in the 1950s, the Rabbi of Satmar met with the Rabbi of Belz. The Satmar Rabbi said "when Mashiach comes, a fire will descend from Heaven, destroying the institutions of the State, and the Heavenly Jerusalem will descend to Earth!". The Belzer replied "No. A great sanctity will descend from Heaven, sanctifying and transforming what is here!". I have no answers to offer. When I first got there, and people would ask me what I missed about America, I would answer "Heinz Ketchup and Carvel Ice Cream" (both of which are now plentiful there, although a new law now forbids Heinz to call itself "ketchup"). After five years there, I would always answer the question of what I miss  "the Bill of Rights".The Rabbinic greats I met there, make American "gedolim" seem pitiful. In some ways, I remain an Israeli, in other ways, I have nightmares about my experiences there. Both sides have been a tremendous education. I will now leave my Israel story behind, and deal with my new life in the country of my birth.

My Story 44

I quickly made plans to return to the States, feeling profound disappointment, betrayal and persecution. Sima urged me to book a flight, together with our son, Eli, as soon as possible. Emotionally, I was in a downward spiral. She feared for my well being if I were to remain there one day more than necessary.Eli has always had an uncanny talent for calming people down. However, that very day, Eli received a notice that he must appear for an initial draft interview, as he was seventeen, and would need to enter the army the following year. I quickly called the draft office, and told them that we had plans to visit the States "for two weeks". They said that since the order was for three weeks, as long as I could show a ticket for less than that, he would be allowed to leave. I purchased two round trip tickets, which for reasons beyond my ken, actually cost half the amount of a one way ticket. Sadly, Eli is now considered a deserter by Israeli law. He has been wanting to visit Israel with his wife and kids, but has been told by the Israeli embassy that he will be arrested and put in military prison the moment he steps off the plane. OK, we have the tickets, but where do we go? Yes, I have family with whom I could stay for a night or two. But this will be at least a month, until the community of Island Park, where I had interviewed, decided whether to hire me. It could even prove to be permanent! Into the picture comes Jay. Jay and I had been friends since age twelve. We actually had virtually nothing in common, other than a deep affection for each other. (I have several friends like that). We seem to weave in and out of each other's lives, picking up where we left off, even after several years. I gave Jay a call. "Hi, Jay!" "Hi, Jeffrey!" "I've got a problem". "What's your problem?" "I'm coming back to the States tomorrow, and I have nowhere to stay." "You'll stay with me!" "But I'm coming with my son." "He'll also stay with me!". "The rest of the family will be coming in a week or two." "You"ll all stay with me!" Jay was living in a tiny, one-bedroom apartment, right outside the Orthodox neighborhood known as Boro Park. He had never married. He shared his apartment with a huge African land tortoise. The place was a mess; electronic equipment and manuals lined nearly every inch of the apartment. The bathroom door could not be closed. But it was a welcome refuge!. Jay's neighbors were mostly ultra-Orthodox Jews. He complained unceasingly about "the frummers". I said "but Jay, I'm also a frummer!" "No you're not, You're just a regular guy who made a mistake!" (He would soon discover that his neighbors were more generous than he had ever imagined). Eli's full name is "Eliyahu Chaim", which Jay was unable or unwilling to pronounce. Jay simply called him "Vilde Chaya" (wild animal), which Eli did not appreciate. (Shortly after that, Jay asked me why I didn't give my kids "human names".) Tragically, Jay died of COVID in April 2020, days before his planned retirement. I was happy to be back in Brooklyn, which had been my home for the first twenty-one years of my life. But I couldn't wait for Sima and the remaining kids to come. Two days later...disaster. Sima phoned from Israel. She had been slapped with a court order that she could not leave the country (tzav ikuv). In the wonderful Democracy of Israel, such an order can be executed by anyone, for any reason. (England has an identical law).I honestly feared that I would never see my wife and children again. Our friend, Sheefra Yakir, recommended a lawyer who worked with "strange methods", but got things done. It would cost $5,000, which we no longer had. A cousin of Sima's graciously lent us the money for the lawyer. The order had come Thursday night A court hearing was set for Monday morning. The court order was lifted, and my family could now join me. I told Sima "There is no way of knowing what might happen next. Pack up whatever you and the kids can carry. Come right away. Abandon the rest of our belongings". Unfortunately, she sustained a back injury that plagues her to this day.They arrived the next day. At the airport, I hugged and kissed them...and collapsed onto the floor. The nightmare was at last over. Only one more attempt was made to rob me. The lawyer contacted us a few days later, wanting more money. I explained that I had no more money. He said "you left behind a car, didn't you?" "Yes, but it hardly runs, and is not worth anything." "No matter. I am faxing you a form to sign the car over to me." I agreed. Israeli "legalese" is essentially the Talmudic mixture of Hebrew and Eastern Aramaic, with which I am very familiar. I read the form "Whatever I now own, or will ever own, belongs to the lawyer". I crossed all that out, and wrote in "my Skoda, located in Shoqeda, is henceforth the property of the lawyer". He called me. "What is the meaning of this?!?!" "I read it, and..." "Who told you to read it?! You must do as I say!" I simply refused, but thought to myself that this is the last time I would be given dictatorial orders by Israeli officialdom. This time, however, I was free to refuse. I just get nauseous when I see Israel referred to as a "democracy". (Remember the statement of my police interrogator "Here, democracy means free elections. Nothing more.") Jay mentioned to his neighbors that he had a family of nine Breslover Hasidim living in his apartment. A Satmar neighbor heard this and expressed disbelief. He came to see if it was true. He mobilized the Satmar community in Boro Park to feed and clothe us. Satmar had again come to our rescue. Jay marveled at the willingness of the "Frummers" to give. A new and much better chapter in my life was now beginning. I will continue with my experiences in another two posts, but first I will write a post script to my Israeli experiences.