My Story 17

During my time in Northern Westchester, I often visited the wondrously friendly Nitra community. When I occasionally had a halachic issue that I felt was beyond my abilities, and required a hands-on consideration that precluded a call to Rabbi Sharfstein in Cincinnati, I would sometimes go to their rabbi, Rav Shlomo Ungar. Once, Rav Ungar advised me to get to know his young son-in-law, the Dayyan Rav Hillel Weinberger, who was taking many responsibilities off the shoulders of the aging rabbi. I met him, and was astounded by his knowledge, his compassion, and his ability to cut through folklore, legend, and politics to arrive at a conclusion. He was about my age; approximately thirty. But the comparison ended there. All of rabbinic literature, from the earliest parts of Talmud, to twentieth-century responsa literature were firmly committed to his memory (including books I had never even heard of). I not only came to speak with him often, but he graciously agreed to allow me to call him with any question on my mind. For the next several years I did so...several times a day. He is now a leading figure in the Hungarian Jewish community, and cannot easily be reached by phone. But what I got out of the eight years I was in close contact with him was like an education beyond anything I could have imagined. Perhaps the most important thing I picked up from him was the Hungarian Orthodox worldview. It seemed almost schizophrenic to me at first, but I came to understand and sympathize with it. On the one hand, it was very resistant to change...any change. Even the dress of prewar Hungary was preserved in every detail. The accommodations of Modern Orthodoxy to Western ideas and values was, to them, anathema. The Judaism of Yeshiva University and its sister institutions was seen as Reform-lite. Even the "Gedolim" of the Yeshiva World who had gone over to using scientific information in deciding halachic issues, were looked upon warily. Nobody, but nobody, was accepted merely because of his position or reputation. All that these things meant was that their views must be considered. But, if they didn't meet standards of logic and sources, they would be rejected. It seemed like a very closed and narrow system...at first. Then I saw that they made a sharp distinction between what SHOULD be done (in their view) and what is the actual halachah. A strong stand must be taken against any kind of weakening of traditional values and forms, but if someone had a problem, that was a very different story. Except for the areas of Kashrut and Passover, their actual halachic system was light years more liberal than even the most left-leaning Modern Orthodox rabbi. For instance, in the realm of "nidah" (menstrual law) in which there are many opinions as to what sort of stains rendered a woman menstruant, and hence forbidden to her husband, they ignored what was acceptable and not acceptable among contemporary rabbis, and would find sources that would permit the couple to be intimate, in cases that would make other rabbis grab their heads in horror. (I would later learn that the Sepharadic approach was virtually identical). Even more, the Dayyan taught me to distinguish between halachah and politics. For example, even Modern Orthodox go very far in finding halachic problems that would serve to delegitimize non-Orthodox practices. The Hungarians also wanted to keep people away from these movements, but not at the expense of falsifying the halachah. On the issue of mechitzah (the physical partition between men and women in the synagogue), the lack of which some rabbis had written was a Biblical violation, despite it not appearing anywhere until the thirteenth century, and then labeled as not a big deal, but which twentieth-century rabbis had chalked up to "too obvious to mention", the Dayyan opened up a Shulchan Aruch, and said to me "It should be right here, between this subparagraph and that. Hmm..it's not. It must not be the halachah then, is it?" At the same time, he stressed that all innovations were dangerous, and must be protested. But writing large number of Jews out of Judaism, as many do, was not acceptable. Even inter-hasidic issues were politics. It is well known that there is a great deal of animosity between the Hungarian Hasidim and Chabad. This animosity stems from three things; Chabad's attitude towards the secular Zionist establishment, their alleged over-adoration of their Rebbe, and the fact that Chabad has their own version of many mitzvot (there is a Chabad Tallit, a Chabad Torah script, Chabad tefillin, Chabad etrog, and most controversial of all, a Chabad mikveh.) Many of these were ruled invalid by Hungarian rabbis. I asked the Dayyan about this., His answer "Politics". I learned that politics are often a way to fight ideologies that were seen as "dangerous", but should never be used to fight individuals, or to delegitimize our fellow Jews. Beyond that, their division of "Heimish" and "Modern" didn't so much apply to practice, as to ideology. Even a non-observant Jew, who believed in old-world traditional Judaism, although he, for whatever reason, didn't practice it, would be welcomed like a brother. On the other hand, even a distinguished Talmudic scholar, who sided with innovation and "modernization" would be shunned. Unlike Chabad, the Hungarian groups do not seek new members in their communities, But Baalei Teshuvah and converts who persist, do join. Their preferred approach is to urge, and more importantly, help people to become what they consider to be good Jews, but to find their own path within Torah. Again, these are my experiences. You may have seen other things. No group is perfect, and everyone has their black sheep. But what I saw at Nitra, has been repeated over and over in my life when dealing with Hungarian communities and rabbis. Although there are many charitable Jews, the dedication of the Hungarians is unique. I experienced this at several crucial junctures in my life (to be described later). I do not know how I would have survived without them. That will be my next post.