The Self-fulfilling Prophecies of the Ex-Hasid
[Opinion]
Over the last two years the ex-Hasidic community has significantly evolved. While some may argue that the heyday of Hasidic blogging is over, the advent of social networking sites took its place and allowed for the growth of a much stronger close-knit community. Many of my ex-Hasidic friends meet on a weekly basis, Isaac Schonfeld’s “Chulent” attracts large crowds every Thursday, and Footsteps has grown to a full-fledged organization with dozens of active participants. In addition, there are the many private events (which, based on the invites on Facebook, average two per week) held by and for ex-Hasidim.
Many view this as a great step. As this site has shown, the self-proclaimed ex-Hasidic community has grown more vibrant. Some might even argue that the forming of a community was inevitable; humans are gregarious creatures and we gravitate to those that are like us. Additionally, the difficulties of integrating into secular society encourage many to fall back to a place that’s simple and where others understand them. The reasons for the growth and formation of the ex-Hasidic community are both many and obvious, but having an ex-Hasidic community may have unintended consequences for its members.
I’ve been a part of the ex-Hasidic community for more than two years now. I count some of my best friends among the ex-Hasidic and I enjoy the time we spend together. A conversation at an ex-Hasidic gathering usually follows the same structure as a typical ex-Hasidic blog post. Somebody mentions a situation he or she was in and some obstacle that came along, and that person goes on to explain how the irreconcilable differences between Hasidic and secular culture account for that obstacle. Then a few Talmudic and Yiddish references get thrown around until the storyteller releases a sigh and explains how different we, the ex-Hasidic, are from the rest of the world and how we can never quite be like “them.” This conversation is often enjoyed over traditional Hasidic dishes, usually chulent or kugel (or galeh, if the host is a pro.) Then somebody begins singing a Carlebach song and the cycle repeats itself.
Of course, what I describe above is an oversimplification; not all conversations are exactly as I describe. Many are about sophisticated topics (I recently discussed with a fellow ex-Hasid David Souter’s critique of Scalia’s judicial philosophy) and many are about simple and enjoyable topics that are just good chitchat. Still a prevailing, sometimes implicit, narrative exists within the group, as if to justify its existence. The idea that we are different and forever confined to that feeling of displacement when it comes to any society beyond the one we grew up in.
The temptation to fall for this narrative, how we are forever different and can never quite shake away our past, is tempting. For one, it justifies our struggles. When one struggles and fails at something involving the secular world having an excuse that shifts the blame to predetermined fate can be comforting.
This is not to argue that it isn’t true that there are serious barriers to transitioning from Hasidic culture to secular society. I myself encounter them on a daily basis. What I’m taking issue with is the emergence of an identity that argues the ex-Hasid’s predetermined fate to be confined to the sidelines of society.
This argument restricts us to staying within this intermediate world, and threatens to undermine the self-professed goal of many ex-Hasidim. If the ex-Hasidic truly aspire to break into secular society, the ex-Hasidic community will have to stop focusing on the constraints that exist and instead focus on the potential for such integration. If the archetype of the ex-Hasid as one confined to displacement and struggle is to be amplified by a community of individuals, we stand the risk of turning our struggles into self-fulfilling prophecies.
Some analogies might be helpful here. Take for example the feminist movement. The rhetoric of early proponents of women’s liberation, such as Betty Friedan, Gloria Steinem – not to mention the likes of Andrea Dworkin – was infused with the language of oppression and discrimination. But modern feminists managed to go mainstream once they let go of the language of victimization. That is not to argue that early feminists weren’t right; women have been, and to some extent continue to be, victims of sexism and patriarchal oppression. Still, for the movement to go mainstream third generation feminists had to shift their mantras from one focused on oppression and vulnerability to one focused on empowerment and possibility.
When I mention the early feminists – particularly the more inflammatory ones, such as Dworkin – to any woman my age, the most likely response is one of contempt. They despise how those women painted the world as hostile. Of course, any student of history will acknowledge that modern women owe a great deal to early feminists. However, fully achieving feminist goals required forgetting about how hostile the world is to women and focusing more on what it would take to get women into and a part of that world.
The same can be said of the African American community. The first African American president wasn’t someone who followed the rhetoric of earlier black politicians, such as Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton. Earlier black politicians focused on the struggles and disadvantages that have faced the African American community. Barack Obama, to those earlier activists’ dismay, modeled his candidacy as being post that generation. Obama focused on how many opportunities he had and how far we have come as a country. As much as historians and sociologists will say that the term is inaccurate, Obama aspired to be “post racial” and it was most likely the key to his success.
The same holds true for the ex Hasid’s attempt at integration into secular society. If we want all those who leave the community, especially the young ones who I’m told might be close to 7-8% of the youth, to stand a chance at fully transitioning to different communities, we will have to give up the narrative of victimhood and disadvantage that seems to be given more and more credence as the ex-Hasidic community grows. Not because those claims are untrue, only because they are counterproductive.
I met a young man over school break a year ago, still with his payess and the full Hasidic garb, who was just getting to know others in the ex-Hasidic world. He told me he wants to leave the community and pursue an education. I told him how I went about getting a GED and applying for college. He seemed interested and enthusiastic. We parted ways, as I had to get back to school and resume my studies. I ran into him again recently, and he told me how involved he had become with an ex-Hasidic group and that he feels content there. I asked him if he made any advances with his studies. He shrugged. Apparently, he gave up on that dream.
I realized then that the more we rebels grow as a community the more we reinforce our own little echo chamber that stifles our progress as individuals. Most of us, like that young man, leave with the intention of finding a new community, be it secular or other Jewish denominations, yet the ease with which we find comfort and community in the ex-Hasidic subculture discourages many from taking on the extra challenge of fully integrating into the outside world. For the young man that I met, getting out there isn’t that important now that he has another place to call home. While some may argue that this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, I doubt many can argue that such a state is sustainable. When I look at those who successfully transitioned from Hasidic culture to the secular one, it is primarily those who never embraced the ex-Hasidic label and the identity that comes with it. They never chanted the ex-Hasidic mantra of predetermined displacement.
As the ex-Hasidic community grows and we share our experiences with others we must ask ourselves: Do we want to be the Jesse Jacksons and Andrea Dworkins of ex-Hasidim by continuously focusing on our disadvantages, or do we want to move on? To move on we will have to give up the comfort and reassurance given to us by the ex-Hasidic narrative, and commit to focusing on what it would take to get into mainstream society. It isn’t easy, I can attest to that, but I believe it’s necessary.
Printable Version
Actually, ex-Chassidim are probably analogous to the Eastern European Jewish immigrants who arrived in America a century ago. They themselves congregated in immigrant communities in the Lower East Side for example and never fully assimilated. Their children became the American doctors and lawyers who moved to the suburbs, who were sometimes embarrassed by their parents old fashioned foreignness. However they were still very identifiable as Jews and participated in Jewish causes enthusiastically.
As a child in New City, NY, I went to public school with next generation – the almost fully assimilated Jews. We, Catholics, Protestants and Jews in school together were all one big happy bunch. We were all Americans, who went our separate ways for perhaps an hour here and there of religion. However, if they did eventually marry, they probably married Jews.
The following generation, the great-great-grandchildren of the immigrants, are finally totally assimilated. They will probably marry gentiles and their children, the great-great-great-grandchildren, will not even be considered Jews by themselves or others.
Let me just mention incidentally that there probably an equal number of gentiles going the other direction – converting to Orthodox Judaism. See this very active yahoo group. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/orthodoxconversiontojudaism/
Being a goy isn’t actually that great.
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What’s the contradiction? Sure you can move to a new country and still hang out with your old landsman. Why not?
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Kisarita:
Yes, you’re right, you can move out, but still be close with your friends!
But the main point was, instead of moving out from one society, and getting stuck while traveling, settle your self into another country!
As the writer pointed out so well, and I must say this is one of the best here, there is nothing wrong with having the Ex-Community. Its a great place to be called Home for many young and old, who left their original culture, but at the same time, why not make this culture great, and make something out of it.
He’s fine with the fact, of people talking and discussing, partying, and Farbranging, but make sure not to stop there.
Best evidence is this man he met, who never went for his GED. C’mon, how hard is that? Just, he felt to comfi with the Rest-Area he stopped at. Yeah, rest areas are nice, you can make friends too, but don’t stick around there, gather your friends, and move on!!
This is a great and too true point!
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In her book. Off the Derech, Faranak Margolese writes “Sadly, most formerly observant jews today seem to have left not because the outside world pulled them in but rather because the observant world pushed them out….so they are not running to the outside world they are running away from our own”.
From my own experience, while leaving the frum community was the best thing I did, the vast loneliness from the lack of community and structure has been the biggest challenge. My point being that after managing to leave such a super intense and all consuming background we aren’t going to trust any culture, community, or group.
Simply put we left but not really going to join any specific society etc. Hence the creating of the ex-frum community.
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Astute. Honest. Brave. An excellent essay.
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I still think we have to invset a lot more effort to bring us all ex-chasidim more together like meeting up on a weekly base at the same plase like at a bingo place or etc.
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i have a party weekly Mr. Rabbish. Come join…
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Mr. Stein, checking out your blog I can see what your agenda is, so I will not write what I had in mind reading your post.
Arguing with someone that already has an agenda, is like peeling peeled potatoes, it’s no use.
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Unlike everyone else, who is totally unbiased.
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Samuel: You have a valid point. Just remember that you left at 19-20, I believe. Many of the members of the stuck-in-the-past ex-Hasidic community left after they were married with kids. For the old folks, they really can’t move on. So let them live out their lives in nostolgic displacement.
The sad part is that these “old folks” are in their thirties, and in the secular world, they’d still be young. Sigh. We just can’t integrate. Pass the galeh, please.
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And the guy who abandoned his academic dreams: maybe l’chatchila he didn’t really want ot go to college. He just said he wanted to go to college while it was all a fantasy. Not everybody is cut out for college.
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If people are comfortable in whatever landing spot they’ve found, I don’t have a problem with it.
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I think the situation of the ex-hasid is similar to that of many immigrants, apostates, and people of mixed family backgrounds. You/they/we all have a feeling of not completely fitting in anywhere, but of having different places or groups of people where different parts of our identities and experiences are understood and taken for granted.
Of course you can never totally assimilate into secular society (which is not anyway a monolithic group), as many of your formative life experiences are so chasidic that people who grew up secular can’t intuitively “get” how they affect the present-day you. So you need you fellow ex-chasid friends.
On the other hand, if you don’t branch out from them and participate in the wider society, you will end up feeling stale and isolated and unhappy. A person in this kind of situation needs to examine their values, beliefs, tastes, etc. and decide which ones from the old life to hang onto and which to jettison. it helps if you can come up with some general “philosophy of life” which sums up your choices and can help guide you in making future decisions. then explore the new life and choose which of its aspects you want to pursue and incorporate into yourself and which you reject. (This is not just my opinion: there is some research on immigrants different approaches to their adopted country that I am basing this statement on.)
I recommend trying to connect mentally with some other “misfits” like ex-Mormons, ex-Muslims, recent-ish immigrants, people from racially or religiously mixed families. Blogs and books are a low-key starting point. You will get a sense that you and the other ex-hasids are not so unique, but part of a large body of people with the privilege of understanding more than one world. This gives you gives insights into what human beings have in common and what are variable social rules. Mono-cultural people often don’t have this breadth of perspective, and so I think your best chances of connecting with secular people is to find others with this sense of having a split in their lives and identities.
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Connecting with other “ex”s is cool, but it’s not what makes a chevre. Sure they may have gone through some parallel experiences but that’s not what ex hasidim are looking for when they get together with eachother- they want people with whom they can express their hasidic culture with.
Footsteps once had a survey if they should open to renegades of other religions. I say, as long as they speak Yiddish, why not?
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Once a chasid, always a chasid. As an observant chasid you think you’re special and as an ex-chasid that same mentality persists.
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Thank you Samuel for raising this topic, it is very unfortunate that ex-hasidim feel some sort of guilt over their actions and the constant need to justify themselves.
The period of Hasidic blogging was, and still is, an important part of expression, but I cannot help but think how few Hasidim actually understand the writing. There is also a lack of any clear pragmatic discussions in this blogosphere.
I do believe the formation of an identity by ex-hasidim is not only inevitable but essential. However, this community needs to become more confident and proactive. I did not go through the footsteps route and did not encounter any Jews till many years after I had left the Hasidic community, but I do find comfort in engaging with other ex-hasidim.
I agree that the identity of many ex-hasidim is shaped by the false belief that they will forever be confined to the sidelines of society. We have the tendency to adopt the narrative of the community we left who look upon us as “nebechs”. In fact, they are the ones who should be pitied, they are the ones who do not have the courage to leave or to speak out and remain confined to their shackles.
You mention that those who want to leave are around 7-8%. However, I think that you significantly underestimate the true value. In fact, if 7-8% do manage to leave “successfully” it will have a multiplier effect and many others will leave too, as they can observe the success of those who did leave. The biggest barrier to exiting the Hasidic community is the fact ex-Hasidim are perceived to be failures. If we can turn it around, many more will follow.
The solution:
I have to mention that I despise the term “ex-hasid/ex-haredi” or even “yotze-bisheilah” as it has a pejorative connotation associated with it, even to ex-hasidim themselves. It suggests that we somehow deviated from where we belong; going off the track we were supposed to follow. Our ancestors carried the name “maskil” with pride, they did not lack the confidence of their conviction. We need to be proud in the journey we have taken and take pity on those who we left behind. An identity has to come with a name which we can be proud of and not be defined by our past but by the choices we have made.
The term for someone becoming a Haredi is a “chozer-bitshuva” which suggests that they are somehow returning to where they belong. If we are to achieve any success as greater global identity, we need to adopt a name which illustrates our return to where we belong, to the human essence of freedom, instead of being locked up in the Hasidic prison, a place where we forced into.
We need to be more proactive, pragmatic, and confident in our path.
As I mentioned earlier, these blogs does serve the need for expression, and I admire the writings. However, it offers little pragmatic guidance and I hope that many of us can come together to build and shape a new (global) network with a proud identity.
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Neo Maskil, I like your comment and your suggestions.
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Why not make an ex-chassidik minyan? Please… A life COMPLETELY bereft of Torah is guaranteed to be lonely and unsuccessful.. Guaranteed..
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This may seem like a naive question. Why does there have to be a strong, distinct, vibrant ex-Chassid identity? Is it because former Chassids have spent their entire lives in a place where everything they were was tied up in being distinct, every action designed to reinforce separateness?
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I’m not an insider, but I doubt that’s the way it feels from the inside, though it may look that way from the outside. The inside world and not the outside world is the most immediate comparison group.
My guess is that people just wanna be who they are.
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I agree with Todd, what’s the point of identity? The whole idea of identity and sepertation is based on the mindset of superiority and royal distinguishment, we have to go our own way the way we feel.
The only reason for unpious, Footsteps, and the like, is to create a support system for people who want to explore their free will, but once you have a stable life, you need to be able to get up and go on independently.
Community life is an excuse for religious oppression.
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Todd:
There doesn’t have to be strong ex-Chassidic identity. To the extent, that those who leave the chasidic world are free to take on any identity they choose. This identity should certainly not be strictly distinct. In fact, it should encourage greater acculturation.
saramaimon:
I fear that your assumption is wrong. In fact, the Chassidic leaderships invests a lot in establishing mechanisms to prevent people from leaving. If, as you say, people just want to stay who they in the chasidic world, why do they make it impossible for people to leave?
Farchapt Innetz:
Refer to my previous answer. And to add that the Maskilim did have an established proud identity, but they also integrated with wider society.
The main point that I want to bring out is that those who leave should not feel guilty, shameful or the need to hide their past. By contrast, they should be proud of their actions and take pity on the chasidic community, instead of feeling intimidated by them.
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Neo I can’t debate that part with you, since I’m a beginner at skepticism, but at the stage I am right now I can only see the troubles that community life has brought upon me. Looking back honestly to the time I remember myself, I haven’t had one episode that I can say community life made my life easier. It’s sad thinking about all the troubles that it did bring upon me. Just a few on the top of my head are, devoidence of a financial support system, (besides stealing from the govenment, there aren’t too many options,) lack of basic english and grammar, peer pressure is a big one and that goes for any community, including you solution, by having to cling to a community real estate skyrockets to a point that it becomes 3/4 of your monthly expenses, I can go on and on but you get the point.
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Farchapt Innetz:
The issue of a community is not the same as simply an identity. I certainly do not want to see a closed community of ex-chasidim, unless people wanted that. I was simply referring to an identity.
I agree with all your complaints of the Chasidic system, it creates dependency of the community, making it impossible to leave.
Anyway, I would love to chat to you sometime.
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That would be nice.
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I don’t understand. What’s so bad about being chassidish. What’s so bad with a warm shabbos tisch where everyone is singing and sharing their weekly happenings. I love sitting by the menorah and sing with my delicious children. And friday night is bliss the kids go to sleep and the action begins…I’m happy that my daughter will not be impregnated by some punk at 16 and happy that most likely my kids will not be on drugs. I do however, have a real issue with the constant pressure, judgmental attitudes, and the repression of one’s individuality. I despise the fact that most chasidim are poor and uneducated. I resent most of the sexual repression – even what should be permissible. It is here-within the community that I believe we need to rebel. We need to raise our children with dignity. We need to assure that they are properly educated instead of having them rely on food stamps and section 8. We need to challenge the bureaucracy and certainly not accept a Rabbi that we feel is corrupt. I to challenge the existence of a G-D and the truthfulness of the torah and the chachomim. However, I haven’t yet found conclusive evidence either way and I’m not ready to dispose of something is potentially special and meaningful. I do however believe that for many, their understanding of G-D and Judaism is primitive and childish.
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Yes, I too don’t understand.
What’s so bad about stealing from the government food stamps, section 8 and tax returns?
What’s so bad about all married women having to clean-shave their heads at all times?
What’s so bad about setting up a hostile mini-enclave/ghetto within a larger country?
What’s so bad about teaching and living with 500/1000 year old notions? After all, the people of yore weren’t worse off then today. Where they?
What’s so bad about brainwashing children to hate others?
What’s so bad about teaching that you and your fellow chareidim are better then the whole world? After all, it’s not true, so no harm done here. Right?
What’s so bad about the spelling and grammar you are looking at right now?
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Hey hey calm down. I agree with most of your points. I did not endorse the “system” the system is Taliban like. However, why should we concede?! We should fight to create a community we really cherish. Just to clarify. Women do not have to shave, we are not allowed to hate anyone, we are not allowed to steal, and yes the current system stinks!
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Uber if you like the spiritual part of Judaism, you can join cholent, I don’t need it, and I do not want anyone imposing it on me.
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uber chuchim
“I do however believe that for many, their understanding of G-D and Judaism is primitive and childish.”
Sadly, Chassidim have a special name for this and they boast that it’s an advantage. They call it Emunnoh Pe’shuto.
However, poshut is ok for a klotz, but anybody with a mind is allowed to try to understand. But, the key is in the word try, because many things are indeed beyond human comprehension and there comes a point where we have to accept our limitations and accept that there is a Borei Olom, and ultimately, we are in His hands.
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Sadly, Chassidim have a special name for this and they boast that it’s an advantage. They call it Emunnoh Pe’shuto.
Peshuto does not mean stupid or simple it means clear straight like with kol shofar we hear a kol pushut meaning a straight blowing. Emunnoh Peshuto means that we understand it clearly until it is pushut
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>>The following generation, the great-great-grandchildren of the immigrants, are finally totally assimilated. They will probably marry gentiles and their children, the great-great-great-grandchildren, will not even be considered Jews by themselves or others.
Let me just mention incidentally that there probably an equal number of gentiles going the other direction – converting to Orthodox Judaism. See this very active yahoo group. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/orthodoxconversiontojudaism/<<
There are Jews today whose ancestors slew Jews by the dozens and crass gentiles out there who descend from Gedolim.
Amazing!
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Extremely well thought out, and well written too.
A problem that faces ex chasidim is that they have grown up with a mentality of ‘gimme’ which is hard to shake when they leave. How can you not feel like a victim when you are a child of holocaust survivors, when the authorities are the enemy, every speeding ticket is anti semitic, and you learn to speak English only to ensure that ‘the shtut don’t ganef a few pennies from you’.
Yes, Obama managed to win his presidency campaign because he shook off the cloak of victimization. Chasidim might be a lot happier if they could too, never mind ex chasidim.
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Reading this essay, it occurred to me there are similarities in both directions on the road in and out of chasidism. Friends of mine who are baal teshuva – some of them, not all – have told me they feel like they are between worlds, no longer “secular,” but also not fully accepted in the communities they have joined.
And what would be wrong with calling ex-chasids BT?
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Great post.
Just the fact that you were able to write up such a great article shows you have come a long way.
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As you mention early on in the article humans are a tribal species. We naturally congregate around those with whom we share a certain identity. That ex-Hasidim (chareidim) congregate with each other is not surprising. To identify is a basic human need and one that allows us to see the power within ourselves through the mirror of another.
The issue you seem to be bewailing is that the victim identity is perhaps given more shrift than is helpful. What is it about being an ex-hasid that encourages this victim mentality. Where is the empowerment of the 2nd 3rd gen feminists you mention to be found within the ex-hasid community.
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Incredible IMAX footage of Israel:
http://vimeo.com/15034110
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So here I am an ex Chasid who became Litvish. I dont wear the garb but practice Orthodox Judaism a la Agudah for now although I would be more comfortable in Young Israel or even Conservadox if I can find a Conservative shul that is more Orthodox-like.
I had the urge to throw it all away when I started college, the beginning of my rebellion, but didnt have the courage of my convictions or the chutzpah/cold heartedness to hurt my Holocaust surviving parents. So I sublimated and compromised.
The day I started College, my mother called me in for a private conversations. “Uber di gleibst noch in Gut?” she asked me. That floored me. I was going to college to learn a profession so I could escape the poverty and paucity and miserliness and that made me an atheist?
Anyway, I survived college staying Frum although I began to taste the forbidden fruits of the opposite sex and lost my virginity to a non Frum Jewish girl in a sorority flop house at the age of 20. I thought it was love, but it was only the poignant taste of sex and lust that masqueraded as love.
Flash forward 35 years. Married, kids, grand kids and frum throughout with much Yiddish nachas given to my parents and community. Successful career, brilliant at times, but i feel like Im living in 2 worlds and sometimes the other world pulls me. The world of work amongst Goyim who know little of my inner struggles and who dont know my Chassidish background because Im too private to share it.
If I had gone OTD 35 years ago, I would be another mainstream Conservative Jew and my kids or grandkids would eventually assimilate. That would bother me greatly. Staying Frum, although sometimes painful, means that , at least in my lifetime, the Chain from Sinai remains unbroken. Small price to pay and the right choice in the great scheme of things.
What worked for me if having the work life where I could eat fish in restaurants with clients, not wear a Yarmulke, talk sports and current events with intelligent people, and yet go home to my warm Frum home.
My wife resents me for it and it has lately caused problems in Sholem Bayis. But she doesnt see the Big picture.
Luck to you in your choice.
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Dear Samual,
I heard your story on NPR yesterday and it almost made me weep. Lechtige neshume, don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater. I am an orthodox woman form Boro Park. I have my Ph.D. from Northwestern University in Illinois. I have learned and I have done research and I have written a thesis. I began my dissertation on learning and sensory control of motor movement with the words: “How great are your deeds, G-d; exceedingly profound are your thoughts” Psalm 92:6. Every knowledge on this earth is fleeting and subject to change except the eternal truth of Torah’s wisdom. Your soul wants to grow and fly. Get educated, learn about the world around you, see a show, watch an enlightening movie – but don’t discriminate. Also learn with depth and mature wisdom the truths in the books you have on your bookshelf. Seek out works by Akiva Tatz, Aryeh Kaplan, Aryeh Carmel to help open your heart and mind. There are “shivim drachim”. The way of your upbringing didn’t work for you. Find the way to Hashem that will let your soul sing. I send you wishes for hatzlacha and much love from a fellow jew in your long journey ahead.
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Karen,
The hubris of your “earnest plea” is galling.
Do you think the brilliant words of your PhD thesis are going to strike deep down in Sam’s little lost soul and save him? Wow.
Your comment implies that Sam hasn’t thought his choices through, or learned Jewish philosophy or understood “the way of Hashem”. If you read any of Sam’s pieces on this site (let alone met him in person), you’d see that’s he’s a thoughtful, honest, brilliant man who has explored his choices with far more intelligence and insight than you display in your argument (?) for Sam to “find a way to Hashem that will let (his) soul sing”.
If you want to have any chance of successfully engaging with anyone who has left the religious community (let alone Sam), you might want to loosen up on the baby talk and try some logic. You would think that wouldn’t be too hard for you – after all – YOU have a Phd.
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“I would be another mainstream Conservative Jew and my kids or grandkids would eventually assimilate. ”
This is bullshit that they tell you to keep you in line and keep you from having contact with other kinds of Jews and with non-Jews. In reality, not living in a totally insular Jewish community allows people the OPTION to reject a Jewish identity without being totally cut off from their family and community they grew up in. However, it is very rare for a non-orthodox Jew to convert to another religion.
Most people raised as non-orthodox Jews stay Jewish in their identity, observe some Jewish holidays, and otherwise behave like Jews in some respects, even if they don’t belong to a synagogue to get counted in affiliation statistics. Even those raised utterly ignorant of anything about Judaism often feel drawn to learn more and become more observant as adults. This is well-documented among Jews from formerly communist countries.
I’m sick of this superior attitude about how the orthodox “guarantee” Jewish continuity for their children. I don’t see anything good about scaring and guilt-tripping people into staying in a community, where they waste their time on rituals they don’t believe in, fake their piety and hide their true thoughts, and have a miserable life where they feel like nobody knows their true self. Wouldn’t you rather your child was a happy Conservative or Reform Jew who enjoyed being Jewish even if they didn’t do all the mitzvot that they used to? Wouldn’t you rather your child was happy being secular or even in another religion, than miserable as an unbelieving Hasid?
If it were true that each generation assimilates more than the previous, then non-orthodox Jewish communities would need a constant influx of previously orthodox Jews joining them. In reality that kind of member is unusual. And if it were true, it would give the lie to the belief that being orthodox guarantees that your children will stay orthodox. Logically, you can’t believe in both kinds of your superiority!
I have to go back four generations in my family to find somebody who was a committed orthodox Jew. In fact both generations before me intermarried, so that I actually only have one Jewish grandparent. Nevertheless I was brought up to be Jewish, I remain Jewish in identity and observance (although I am not according to halachah), I married another non-orthodox Jew, and we will raise our children to be Jewish according to our (non-orthodox) ideas of what that means. We continue to be Jewish solely for positive reasons, not from fear or guilt. I think it does a pretty good job of producing continuity.
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I bet I know why you couldn’t do devotions with a member of the opposite sexhow did they know you weren’t reading Song of Solomon together?
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