The Rabbi and the dangers of authority. (Why Modern Orthodoxy has never existed, part 3)

In cricket, the middle-order are the rocks of the batting line up. After the openers have come and gone and hopefully seen off the new ball, these herculean competitors are the consolidators, builders and brutal enforcers. Every Test team has one in the present or recent past who they look upon fondly. India had Tendulkar, Dravid, Laxman and Ganguly. South Africa have De Villiers, Amla and until very recently Kallis. Without a good middle order, the team collapses into the Test match wilderness. They help to create calm and stability within the team.

My last post basically said that the modern concept of Modern Orthodoxy is flawed because it focuses too much on what it believes and less on what it does. What it tries to espouse in the name of a community can only be achieved on a personal level. This is not a defeatist approach, either, it just identifies the difference between personal and communal development.  Historically, the great broad-minded paradigms have never existed as entities by themselves.

I thought I should add something interesting that I read in Mordechai Breuer's book about Orthodoxy in Germany in the 19th Century. One is that other than R. Hirsch, Germany did not really produce creative thinkers in the area of the integration of humanistic, ethical and moral teachings with Jewish thought, with novel takes on the Chumash and Aggadah. By and large, German Orthodoxy defined itself in terms of practical integration in the business world rather than ideological integration. We often take texts such as Hirsch's and assume its deeply thought out lessons were absorbed by those privileged enough to hear them. We forget that for most congregants they were words of inspiration but probably not used for practical guidance.

 For many, the key point was that there existed in their midsts a great ideologue who could buttress, support and justify their lifestyles. The hallowed ideal that every action undertaken with the right intent, including secular actions, could be part of man's service of God was often more of a declarative assertion than a lived reality. What R.Hirsch gave the Orthodox was a pride and more importantly, a confidence in the way they lived their lives. The books survive the test of time for the benefit of later generations but the experience of the community had little to do with written works. The world of ideas is great fun, complex and tumultuous but largely remains in the imagination of the individual. 

It is perhaps this that I admire most in R. Hirsch as a leader. The lack of defensiveness. The lack of apologetics. The self-confidence. The lack of belonging to a particular institution. He did not view his system as the bedieved approach that the Lithuanian Chareidi world would like to imagine. And he certainly was not a Zionist. In my mind this is another reason why Modern Orthodoxy as a world of ideas has never existed on its own,  rather it has relied on dynamic leaders who have lived in their own world of ideas. But without these leaders it seems lost, because it tries to build itself around the ideas which were the experiences of one unique individual who could never be fully emulated. 

 I have recently become quite taken by this idea of confidence vs apologetics. I see an enormous difference between religious thinkers who act as though everything they do is a response to something else pushing them in that direction and those who are able to stand on their own two feet and integrate their own experiences into their decision making. I get the impression that everyone feels threatened all the time in the realm of thought. A defensive approach which is common is one which seems to feel the need to justify a Judaism under attack from scientific research, for example, and try to discredit the 'aggressors' (be that evolution or secular culture). One which constantly fears for its survival. A non-defensive approach would evaluate and try to admire and understand each for what they were. In fact, I feel that the fact that so many contemporary thinkers seem to devote their time exclusively to these sort of apologetics undermines the authenticity of their endeavour.

Alternatively, defensiveness can lead to an attitude where every innovation is feared and suspected and conformity is demanded. The way I see it, in a world of defensiveness principles are only important if they have the support from the consensus. If scandals arise in a community, the defensive lie in wait for one of the seniors to make a statement. Looking over the shoulder all the time. Fearful. Dependent. 

'Keep calm and carry on'. It's a fairly good slogan, to be honest. Calming down would do most people a lot of good, myself included. Confidence breeds calm, and it seems very rare. The rabbi, I would argue, is more like a middle order than a captain. He doesn't necessarily need to generate ideas, tactics or masterplans but he must be the rock, exude confidence, keep calm and carry on. Who do we want him to be? The one who knows Halacha well and stays out of our business? The pioneer of a new direction in Jewish thought? Someone to invest in personally? Someone who gives our lifestyles some sort of legitimacy? Maybe all of them, maybe none of them, I don't know how important it is. But he must be able to keep the calm within the community. Keep the confidence going. And lead without controlling.

 Authority, I realise, is one of the most difficult areas of life to manage effectively. Over the last few weeks I have seen that it can become a lethal tool in the wrong hands. The challenges of the modern day rabbi are enormous. He is expected to be a thousand different things ranging from town psychologist and moral guide to the officiator at weddings and sadly at burials. Burnt out from exhaustion, buried in the hail poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail, hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn. It certainly takes its toll on some. You can end up being a politician and become embroiled with finances. And, after all, money doesn't talk, it swears.  
 In Iggerot ha Rambam p.308 quoted in Moshe Halbertal's book Maimonides life and works I found a gem of a quote which has been added to my hall of fame of legendary lines: "Regarding most men of religion who are possessed of authority, their piety leaves them". Taken on its own this sounds cynical but I take a very sober warning from it. It is sad but not surprising that religious authority and political leadership have rarely worked out well together.

Religious authority leaves you with more responsibilities and demands than most people are feasibly able to manage. It can put you on a pedestal, make you into a hero, and give you a nice projection as a pension to hide behind. You are asked for advice and assumed to possess some sort of superhuman wisdom and understanding. If everyone thinks that you are an expert in all areas of people management, weather forecasts, dating advice and marriage issues who are you to argue? But behind the smoke and mirrors it is easy to forget that real people have staked their very lives on your reputation. What you say really counts and will affect the lifestyles, marriages and relationships of the people you advise directly. But you will not be there to pick up the pieces. The charisma of your position can blind you to the consequences of your actions. It can also lead to the neglect of other areas of life, sometimes the most important areas. If you follow the above Dylan song's conclusion on a google search I might suggest some of the more dramatic consequences of when overexertion takes its toll.

I have no doubt that when they start out most religious educators are filled to the brim with enthusiasm, passion and commitment to being pious and sincere leaders. But to be able to maintain the piety and deeply felt humanity that you once possessed when you suddenly realise that you have a family to support, promotions to achieve, funds to raise, appearances to maintain and still retain the bravery to do the right thing is quite often beyond the capabilities of most individuals. Knowing the limits of your own authority when no-one else has given you any can be an impossible challenge.

 For example, how easy is it  to actually listen to the problems that come your way 10 years down the line when you think you've heard them a million times before? You already know the answers, right? So you give an answer which smacks of: "I know exactly what you went through, I used to be like you, but now I'm perfect, so be like me". It's easy to mistake yourself for the image you have created along the way, and the people who trust you suffer as a result. One of the challenges of modern day leadership in the religious community is the challenge not to allow your status to blind you from the job you have to do, the idealism that once drove you and the institutionalisation that could engulf you. Hello my son, welcome to the machine. 

 This has been a fairly unclear rant, I realise. What I am trying to express is the fact that I have begun to see the development of a defensive culture of dependency from both religious leadership and in terms of attitudes within the religious community. I have see the dangers of the cult of the individual that this can create and the people who are hurt by it and become deeply disillusioned.  I'm partly thinking like this because of the upcoming Yahrzeit of Dayan Lopian Ztz'l. I feel he epitomised the person who never lost the deeply human understanding of life situations whilst retaining great piety and would never forget the individual behind the question asked. We would do well to learn from his example. Keep calm and carry on.