My Story 22

We moved to New Haven in 1981, when our son Nachman was two years old, and Sima was expecting our second child. We were made to feel welcome (at first) by all the factions. Being the "Mikveh Lady" requires great tact and discretion. Sima was perfect for the job, and was well liked.We quickly found out that one faction, Chabad, was boycotting our mikveh. Chabad has a completely different way of constructing a mikveh. When it was built, the small Chabad community in town had insisted it be built their way. The Modern Orthodox and Yeshivish communities balked. Yes, according to some, it was a better way, but some also considered it invalid. Anyway, it was far more expensive to build. There had been a huge fight. Finally, the non-Chabad factions offered a compromise. The plans called for two separate mikvaot to be built within the complex anyway. They could make one according to the Chabad opinion, and the other in the more traditional way. The Chabad leaders rejected this offer, as they feared that people would say "This one is the Chabad mikveh, and this one is the Jewish mikveh". The Chabad women would go to Brooklyn to use a Chabad mikveh. The Chabad "BTs"(Baalot Teshuvah; newly Orthodox) were allowed to go half an hour away to Bridgeport. The mikveh there was identical to ours, but they felt slighted by the decision that had been made. The factions that ran the mikveh were the Modern Orthodox and the Yeshivish groups. They did not trust each other, but cooperated on many issues for the good of the community. At one "Mikveh Dinner" (fundraiser) a Modern Orthodox rabbi made an impassioned, but divisive, speech about how New Haven was once such a wonderful place, until the "Glattnicks" (those who keep a stricter level of kashrut) had come to town. The local Modern Orthodox rabbis maintained a very minimal level of Kashrut in the stores, while Chabad shipped up meat from Crown Heights, and the Yeshivish community shipped up meat from Queens. Sima and I agreed that we would try to be on good terms with everyone. A woman affiliated with the Chabad community befriended her (they are still in touch). She invited Sima to a Chabad Women's Sunday brunch. She asked Sima if she would like to give a Dvar Torah the following week on the subject of Elul (the month of preparation before the High Holy Days). Sima gladly agreed. After a few hours, our phone rang. The wife of the local Chabad rabbi wanted to speak to Sima. "I understand that Mrs ... asked you to speak. Will you be quoting Rabbi Nachman? We don't want to confuse the women, so I'll give you some Chabad teachings to deliver".Sima declined, and ceased her connection with the Chabad Women's group. Animosity between us and Chabad was to increase during our stay. The Yeshivish community was composed of two factions that studied and prayed in the same building. There was the larger Slobodka faction, and a tiny Brisker faction. (Only years later did it become known that the head of the Brisker faction was convicted of preying on young teen boys). I had not been very familiar with either. They had never heard of Breslov. I liked the people, but found the former group's approach to Judaism very superficial, and the latter pseudo-intellectual. Each explained to me why the other group was hopelessly mistaken. (I described the differences in an earlier series). I tried to keep out of the squabbles. The Modern Orthodox were a different story. I tried to maintain good relations, but they seemed to resent anyone who was in any way to their right. Ironically, they maintained fairly good relations with Chabad, who ran the local Day School. Several leaders of this community told me that although they did not care for Chabad, they did accept that the Lubavitcher Rebbe was Mashiach. The Day School was run on a religiously "lowest common denominator" basis, but with a heavy dose of Chabad ideology. The Modern Orthodox did not feel threatened in any way. In the meanwhile, the Yeshivish community had formed their own school, on a much higher level of Torah knowledge. At first, it met in rented space in a synagogue basement. Then, a public school building, right in the middle of the Jewish part of town, was being abandoned by the city. The Yeshivish Day School offered to purchase it. The mayor decided that it was in the interest of the city that it remain a school, and sold the building for one dollar. A lawsuit ensued. The Chabad community went to court, arguing that this deal violated the separations of Church and State, as well as the "equal protection" clause of the constitution (!!!). The Yeshivish community was frustrated that the Modern Orthodox rabbis remained silent at this, and wondered out loud why no formal "Cherem" (Ban of Excommunication) had been issued at this move, which violated many basic halachot. In the end, the courts granted the Chabad suit, and the Yeshivish community had to pay full price for the building, plus court costs. Many painful memories of the Chabad way of handling these things that I had seen when I worked for the Chabad House in Cleveland a decade earlier came rushing back to me. It would be many years before I could again feel positively toward Chabad. Missing doing "kiruv" (outreach), I visited the Yale campus. I became friendly with the Hillel rabbi. He invited me to give a class at the Hillel on Rabbi Nachman. He also invited me to attend his Shabbat discussion group and give my take on things. He was, and is, a very interesting person. Sadly, international events were soon to drive a wedge between us. That will be the next part of my story.