A few years ago, Rabbi Michael Broyde (pictured left) wrote an analysis of the Halacha requiring married women to cover their hair. Although
he in no way said that a married woman may uncover her hair he suggested that it is
possible to say that there were Halachic sources that may have permitted it in
certain social circumstances.
I am not going to go into the details about his arguments.
His article on the subject may be read in its entirety in Tradition Magazine. His point then was not to permit married
women to uncover their hair. He clearly does not. His point was to provide a
Limud Zechus for them. These are married women who are religious in all other respects
and dress in Halachicly modest ways. They should therefore not be looked
down upon.
One can debate the merits of his arguments. That was indeed
done respectfully by Rabbi Eli Baruch Shulman in a rebuttal article in a subsequent edition of that
magazine, to which Rabbi Broyde responded. The debate is unsettled.
What was troubling for me was not that there were legitimate
attempts to refute his argument, but that in some cases there was accompanying condescension
towards him - as was the case with an article in Dialogue Magazine (unavailable online). That too was rebutted on Gil Student's blog, Hirhurim.
In one case a highly respected Charedi Posek and Rosh Kollel
compared Rabbi Broyde's words to those of Aharon “Choriner”, the “Posek” for the Reform Movement. (If I understand correctly Rabbi Chorin wrote a “Teshuva” permitting organ music
in a Reform Temple on Shabbos.)
What all of this demonstrates is an attitude of disrespect for
a Talmid Chacham – not because he did anything wrong. But because he dared to try
and defend religious married women who do not cover their hair.
This attitude of intolerance is one that permeates much of
the right wing. They do not only seek to raise the standard of observance among
their own. They seek to delegitimize anyone else that doesn’t. This is
manifested in many ways. There are for example day schools who will not accept
children if their mothers do not cover their hair. Despite
the fact that they are totally observant in every other way - if a child is brought
up in a home is completely Shomer Shabbos; Shomer Kashrus; and observes Taharas
HaMishpacha scrupulously… that’s not good enough! They do not want the taint of
a Modern Orthodox woman in their parent body. And will not allow the child of
such a woman into their school.
When my own children were in elementary school, our parent
body consisted of many different types of religious Jews. Some of the women
covered their hair and some didn’t. Some wore pants and some didn’t. Other
schools were particular about these things and denied admission to children of
such parents.
I clearly recall the reaction of the principal of my
children’s school to that. “If only all
religious women would have the integrity and level of devotion to Yiddishkeit
that the mothers in his school did,
Judaism would be in far better shape.” He said that he would measure their
level of commitment against the parent body of any other school. For the
record, many of those mothers have long since covered their hair. Some of their
children are now right wing Roshei Yeshiva!
Which brings me to an article by Jonathan Rosenblum in
Mishpacha Magazine about the very subject: Intolerance by the right for Modern
Orthodox Jews.
Jonathan actually gets it. He is by any definition a Charedi
Jew. But he clearly appreciates the value of Jews who do not live by Charedi
standards. And he has a very clear label for those who don’t. It’s called Sinas
Chinam - baseless hatred! The wonderful story
Jonathan tells about a true Aishes Chayil who unfortunately succumbed to cancer
a few years ago - yet again illustrates why there should not only be tolerance but
complete Achdus in the world of observant Jewry. His words follow.
Outside of Chicago, I doubt many Mishpacha readers ever
heard of Miriam. But she probably had a greater influence on my younger brother
Mordechai’s path to becoming a Torah observant Jew than anyone else, and
through him on the entire Rosenblum family.
My brother first met Miriam when he was a 15-year-old high
school sophomore from a Chicago suburb and she was a high school senior at a
religious high school in Chicago. They were part of a Chicago Federation summer
trip to Israel that included both Orthodox and non-Orthodox high school
students.
At one of the organizational meetings for that trip, Miriam
approached my mother and told her, “Don’t worry Mrs. Rosenblum, we’ll take good
care of your son.” And she smiled. On the car ride home, my mother told my
brother, “That Miriam, she’s special.” I’m not sure that either of them had
ever met a religious Jew before, but both my mother and brother instantly
sensed that Miriam was qualitatively different from all those they were used to
meeting.
On the way to the Kosel that Tisha B’Av, Miriam explained to
my brother the tragedy of Tisha B’Av and the significance of the loss of the
Beis HaMikdash. At that point in his life, I doubt my brother had ever fasted
other than on Yom Kippur. But that Tisha B’Av he fasted. If it meant that much
to Miriam, he reasoned, it must be worth doing.
After they returned from Israel, Miriam introduced my
brother to her wide circle of friends in West Rogers Park. Under the influence
of his new friends, he was ready for a year on a religious kibbutz in Israel
and was talking about becoming an Orthodox rabbi by the time he graduated high
school.
In time, Miriam married a rabbi, Jerry Isenberg, the head of
Hebrew Theological College (Skokie Yeshiva), and became a legendary baalas
chesed, both in her job as a school social worker and in the countless
ways she found to help others, without fanfare, despite battling cancer most of
her adult life. But her special qualities were all there from an early age —
the smile, the intensity of her davening, the goodness.
Miriam came from a Modern Orthodox background. On that first
trip to Israel, she confided to my brother that many of her friends were having
difficulty on the religious kibbutz on which they had been placed because the
kibbutz members frowned on the slacks they were used to wearing in Chicago.
But Miriam and the Modern Orthodox teenagers to whom she
introduced my brother were the catalyst for four nonobservant Jewish brothers
to become observant Jews.
The chareidi branch of the Rosenblum family today numbers
over 60 members. I’d like all those descendants who never met Miriam to know
that they are likely here today as shomrei Torah u’mitzvos in large
part because of a group of teenagers whom they might be inclined to dismiss as
insufficiently frum if they saw them on the street today.
Perhaps that knowledge would help immunize them from the
temptation to puff themselves at the expense of others whose religious
standards appear less stringent, while missing all the maalos that
those not exactly like them possess.
I only wish I were more optimistic about my immunization
program — even with respect to myself.
