[Avodah] Fwd: Torat Chaim VeAhavat Chesed

[Micha Berger via Avodah]

R/Dr Alan Brill recently carried this essay by comparatively new chaver,
R' Ysoscher Katz.

I am sharing here the essay in full (see <http://j.mp/1Q4upd4> or
<https://kavvanah.wordpress.com/2015/05/31/torat-chaim-veahavat-chesed-rabbi-ysoscher-katz>
for R/D AB's biographical introduction) for two reeasons -- or one
two-part reason:
1- I think this post could start a nice discussion of the fundamentals
of each of our hashkafos; and
2- Comments are blocked on the post, so it's not like I am stealing a
conversation that ought to happen there.

Tir'u baTov!
-Micha

-- 
Micha Berger             If you won't be better tomorrow
micha at aishdas.org        than you were today,
http://www.aishdas.org   then what need do you have for tomorrow?
Fax: (270) 514-1507              - Rebbe Nachman of Breslov

   Torat Chaim Ve'Ahavat Chesed
   Ysoscher Katz

   I was raised in the chassidic community of Satmar. I should make it
   clear from the outset: I am modern but not Orthodox. Do not get me
   wrong, I am observant and my practice is orthodox but that is not who
   I am. In other words, I am orthodox-my practice is halakhic and my
   belief orthodox-but Orthodoxy is not me. It is not an integral part of
   my identity. My orthodoxy is merely a means towards a religious end.
   Keeping halakha and accepting orthodox faith-claims provides me
   with the infrastructure which allows my soul to strive and pursue
   perfection. Orthodoxy enables me to be who I really am: a Modern
   Chassidish Jew.

   As I mentioned, my identity is comprised of two parts, Modern and
   Chassidish. I inherited these identity markers from my parents, the
   modernity from my mother and the chassidut from my father. Here,
   I mean real Chassidic, and not Neo-Chassidic. How my chassidic,
   homemaking and sheitel-wearing mom made me modern is a conversation
   for another time. At the moment I wish to focus on my dad.

   My father is the most non-chassidish Chassid. He does not study
   "chassidus," nor does he want to "understand" it. The few times I
   tried to explain to him Moshe Idel's distinction between theosophy and
   theurgy, his eyes glazed over. Chassidut is what he does, not what
   he learns. From his perspective, Torah is for learning, chassidut
   for practicing.

   His aversion is not limited to the study of academic mysticism. He also
   stays away from traditional kabbalistic or chassidic texts. He never
   studied the Zohar nor did he ever read any of the Arizal's writings.
   Not only would he not read them, he also would not touch them. He
   is so intimidated by their sacredness; he fears that his touch would
   contaminate them. Yet, despite never having formally studied chassidic
   texts, he still is the quintessential chasid. Chassidut is his essence,
   part of his religious DNA, but it is a chassidut that is behavioral,
   not intellectual. Chassidut is how he lives his life. It is the
   prism through which he encounters the world and the ethos by which
   he lives by.

   He adores his wife, loves his children, cherishes his community and
   reveres and respects his neighbors and fellow human beings, Jew and
   non-Jew alike. While this practice is not special, many people love
   their family and surroundings, its flavor is unique. It is Chassidic
   love, deriving its passion from the Chassidic teachings he has absorbed
   throughout his life. These teachings have filled his being with a deep
   religiosity, which, in turn, infuses his actions and emotions with
   a deep and robust spirituality. His love of humanity is, therefore,
   a love that is sensualized by its spiritualized valance.

   Chassidut does not just spiritualize my father's interpersonal
   relationships, it also enhances his religious practices, particularly
   the yearly calendar. Chassidut allows him to infuse the annual cycle
   with a sensuous spirituality.

   Satmar is a Hungarian/Romanian Chassidut (The broad strokes difference
   between Hungarian Chassidut and the Polish and Russian versions is
   that the latter were intellectually inclined while the former was not.
   Hungarian Chassidut was predominantly behavioral. This is, of course,
   a generalization; the nuances are far more complex but outside the
   parameters of this presentation.)

   Hungarian Chassidim are nourished by an elaborate "sacred calendar."
   They have more days of note than the conventional Jewish calendar,
   and their holidays tend to be richer than your typical modern Jews'
   chag experience. A Satmar Chasid's year is thus replete with days of
   deep joy and periods of intense reflection. While the Jewish calendar
   has several biblical holidays and two Rabbinic ones, the Chasid's
   calendar records additional dates of importance.

   Every winter, the Hungarian Chasid has six to eight weeks of
   "shovavim," a period that usually falls sometime between Chanukah and
   Purim, which is dedicated to repentance and introspection, largely
   focusing on sexual impropriety; the days of awe continue through the
   end of Chanukah, the potential for repentance lasts for them for two
   more months; Purim celebrations begin three days earlier than usual;
   and (a modicum of) Pesach extends all the way to Shavuot (based on
   Nachmanides' notion that the interim weeks between Pesach and Shavuot
   are somewhat akin to a chol ha'moed of Pesach). Combined these add
   up to a significant number of additional days of awe and periods
   of celebration.

   Qualitatively, chassidic holidays are different as well. Although
   many things distinguish a chassidic chag, there is one distinction
   that is particularly noticeable to the keen observer: chassidic
   religious celebrations are comprised of a dissonant blend of joy
   and contemplation.

   Here are some examples:

   Shabbat in Satmar is an incredibly meaningful day, bookended by
   powerful contradictory modes. Friday night is a time of joy, where the
   spiritually and mystically rich Lecha Dodi chant inspires celebration
   of the metaphysical significance of the day.

   While this spirit carries through most of the Shabbat, towards the end
   of the Shabbat the Satmar Chasid shifts gears, switching modes from
   the celebratory to the reflective. This transition occurs in a much
   starker manner than it does in most other communities. A Satmar Shabbat
   never ends at "shekiah." Sehudah shlishit is always a two hour affair,
   spent singing and listening to the Rebbe's dvar torah. Speaking in
   highly evocative tones, he expounds on the weekly reading, spending
   close to an hour challenging and rebuking his followers.

   Growing up, this is exactly what Shabbat looked like for me. My
   dad's Shabbat was intense and complex. While the day began upbeat,
   it gradually shifted into the contemplative.

   But, my father's Shabbat, like his chassidut, is adamantly
   experiential, text and study play a minor role in the development of
   his religious persona.

   Kegavna (a section from the Zohar which Chassidim recite during Friday
   night prayers), is one of the most powerful kabbalistic liturgical
   texts. Utilizing the connection between Shabbat and the number seven,
   a prominent kabbalistic trope, it succinctly articulates the mystical
   value of Shabbat. It emphasizes that Shabbat is a day of heightened
   divine intimacy and advanced mystical union. I have begged my dad on
   many occasions to read this Zohar text with me. He refused each time.
   Sacred mystical texts are for the elite. The lay receive their
   nourishment residually, from the spiritualized environment created
   by those qualified to access those recondite sources.

   While he will not study Kegavna, he does recite it every Friday night
   as part of the Kabbalat Shabbat service. Notwithstanding that he does
   not fully grasp its meaning, he reads it with the pathos and passion
   it deserves. Kegavna's power for him is metaphysical, not intellectual.

   Purim provides another example of the intensity of Hungarian chassidic
   practice. Many Jews celebrate Purim, but not the chassidic Purim. The
   chassidic Purim is unique in its richness and multiplicity. Communally,
   preparations for the holiday start early. More than a week before
   Purim, one can already detect the arrival of the holiday, both, in
   the discourse of the scholars and activities of the laity. The learned
   discourse focuses on the legal and spiritual aspects of the chag, while
   the public sphere is filled with people making arrangements for every
   aspect of the day. When Purim finally arrives, it takes on a distinct
   theological flavor. Appropriating the Zoharic notion that Purim is
   analogous to Yom Kippur (Yom Kippurim), Satmar Chassidim created a
   unique Purim blend that is both frivolous and somber. This day of
   festivity is overlaid with practices of repentance and reflection.

   While I am nourished by my dad's behavioral Chassidut, personally it
   is not enough. Behavioral Chassidut gladdens my heart but does not
   stimulate my mind nor sufficiently satisfy my soul. I personally seek a
   religiosity which nourishes both pillars of my being, the mind and the
   heart. My personal journey is, therefore, informed by a combination
   of my father's passion and the academic's sophistication. Chassidus
   resonates with both of them, sometimes simultaneously, when the
   intellectual engagement and behavioral spiritual encounter complement
   one another, and sometimes separately, when I religiously shift back
   and forth between the intellectual and the experiential.

   Ultimately, the attraction to Chassidut is the fact that it can operate
   in different modes at different times, in the process offering up a
   variety of mechanisms to help spiritualize my life.

   It is precisely this multifacetedness which convinces me that Chassidut
   is the proper theology for us moderns. Its theology is perfectly
   situated to offer meaning and spirituality to the contemporary modern
   seeker. I feel strongly that it is our only hope. Chassidut today is
   not a luxury, it is a necessity. If the Torah-u'Madda project is to
   succeed Chassidut needs to become an integral part of its curriculum.

   Chassidut is of course a vast discipline, teaching all of it would be
   a daunting task. For the moment there are three aspects of chassidic
   theology that stand out as particularly suited for the world we live
   in today.

   1) Truth. We live in a post-modern world where objective truth is
   rejected and absolute claims are frowned upon. I would go as far as to
   say that rationalism (in the general and colloquial sense) as a source
   for Emunah is bankrupt, it increasingly speaks to fewer people. It,
   therefore, behooves us to come up with alternative models. Chassidut
   could very well be that alternative model.

   Facts and empirical truth is not Chassidut's primary currency. While
   it does a priori accept the biblical theological faith statements, its
   goal is not to argue or prove the scientific veracity of the Bible's
   claims. Truth is not of primary concern for these thinkers. Chassidic
   theology has two main features. It is a-rational and a-historical. It
   is apathetic about Jewish historicity as a proactive theological
   stance. The Torah for Chassidim is there to teach us how to live life
   and serve God, the narrative qua narrative (the origin story) is mere
   background music. The narration parts of the Torah are, therefore,
   not of much theological significance to them, they are a-historical

   However, during those rare occasions when they do pay attention to the
   biblical "stories," their orientation is a-rational. They absolutely
   "believe" those stories, but their belief is internal: it is true
   because it happened in the Torah. That is where these events transpire
   and that is where these stories matter. Asking about their historicity
   is, as far as they are concerned, foolish and missing the point.

   At the same time, to the extent that the biblical narratives have
   religious and theological significance, they read those stories through
   the Rabbinic lens. So, for example, while Moshe's historicity is not
   historically relevant to them, his persona carries theological and
   ethical significance.

   The same is true for God's attributes. Chassidim are, by choice,
   apathetic about God as a scientific reality, his attributes and
   characteristics, however, are theologically highly significant to them.
   For that they did turn to the Bible, but the encounter with the Torah
   is filtered through Chazal.

   They see Chazal as essential to the understanding of the Torah. As
   believers in immanence they actually see the Sages as much more
   integral to the experience of the written Torah than the rationalists
   did. They did not think that the presence at Sinai (mamad har Sinai)
   ended at the giving of the Torah (mattan Torah). For them the Torah is
   perpetually and continuously revealed. The modern reader of chassidic
   texts would, therefore, not have to decide whether they scientifically
   accept these postulates in order to engage with them.

   Chassidut's goal is instead to describe an immanence which provides
   spiritual and emotional transcendence. Chassidut (informed, of
   course, by kabbalah) promotes a sophisticated immanence which results
   in a dramatic shift in Judaism's orientation towards God and His
   commandments. Prior to the emergence of chassidut on the historic
   scene, theology was convincing and Jewish observance was rewarding.
   Chassidut changed that. Chassidic theology offered meaning and
   kabbalistic observance provided sanctity.

   Personally, my rejection of the Maimonidean ethos and realization of
   the degree to which chassidut can speak to the modern searcher was a
   long and arduous process. It came about as a result of a deep sense
   of betrayal by Maimonides, the champion of Rationalist Judaism. I for
   many years was the object and fool of Maimonides "the seventh reason"
   as presented in his introduction to the Guide by not seeing his
   philosophic views. In that passage, Maimonides condones misleading
   the masses for their greater good, even to the point of advocating
   contradictory ideas for different audiences and then obscuring those
   contradictions.

   Growing up in Satmar and then Brisk, I was oblivious to his
   non-halakhic writings and led to believe that he fully and literally
   believed every word he wrote in the Yad. I was exposed to his other
   writings only later and when I did I felt cheated. I was part of
   that the masses, whom he thought could not handle his unconventional
   approach to theology and tradition. As much as I have read about him,
   I personally have not managed to reconcile his two sides. I do not find
   Prof. Isidore Twersky's harmonizing approach compelling or convincing.

   Realizing what a fool I was led me on a tortuous and circuitous search.
   As the Rabbis say about Yisro, חזרתי אחר כל האלהות; I explored all
   the options. I finally found the answer in kabbalah and chassidut,
   they speak a language which resonates with our current reality. They
   emphasize that which contemporary Judaism needs.

   The emphasis in chassidut on meaning and sacredness, are perfectly
   suited for our community. These are exactly the things our culture
   needs more of; holiness and meaning. This emphasis in Chassidut on
   immanence also generates a move towards spiritualization.

   2) Spiritualization. As scholars have pointed out, chassidic teachings
   contain elements of spiritual psychology. They provide us with a
   language which helps us infuse our lives with meaning. One can point
   to many examples where this psychological spiritualization occurs in
   chassidut, I will mention two of them.

   Everybody sometimes has a bad hair day, when we wake up feeling less
   than optimal. Chassidut has a term to describe that mood; it calls
   it mochen de'katnus. While it technically means the same as a "bad
   hair day," the language is mystical. Mochen de'katnus describes a
   less than stellar spiritual state, a low energy level which does not
   allow us to engage in the usual religious pursuits we crave to pursue.

   Another example is Kabbalah's elaborate taxonomy of love and awe:
   Kabbalah and Chassidut talks about superior and inferior love (ahavah
   ela'e'e and ahavah tata'a) or superior and inferior awe (yirah ela'e'e
   and yira tata'a)While these terms primarily describe nuanced stages in
   our engagement with the Divine, they have traditionally been imported
   into the colloquial arena. They are used to describe varied emotional
   states which we experience in our interactions with our friends and
   loved ones.

   Contemporary life does not provide us with that many opportunities
   for encountering the Divine in our daily lives. Chassidut allows us to
   bring God in. Sprinkling our conversations with mystical and Chassidic
   terminology allows us to spiritualize our daily routines and infuse
   our mundane pursuits with meaning and spiritual significance.

   Besides enriching our personal encounters, adopting a chassidic ethos
   could also enhance our communal experiences.

   3) Social Change. One of the most pressing tensions in the community
   is how to reconcile our values with our convictions; what to do
   when halakha points us in one direction and our values in another
   direction. We are tempted to follow our values but pulled to abide by
   our halakhic commitments. A proper resolution requires an emboldened
   stance towards tradition, one that allows us to cajole the tradition
   to reconcile itself with our modern sensibilities. [Using, of course,
   legitimate halakhic mechanisms developed by our predecessors when
   they were confronted with similar challenges.]

   Our values are so emboldened because they derive their power from
   Chaissdut. A chassidic life is a spiritualized life which infuses our
   values with powerful theological significance, and it allows us to
   aggressively challenge the tradition to reevaluate its assumptions
   and attempt to accommodate itself-when halakhically possible- to a
   changed modern reality.

   Chassidut is very explicit about the value of religious aggression. The
   following two quotes are often encountered in chassidic writings,
   "even a thief says a prayer before he breaks in to his victim's home"
   (quoted on the margin of Brachot 63A, from the Frankfurt manuscript),
   and "an aggressive stance towards the Divine bears results" (Sanhedrin
   105A). While the provenance of these texts is Talmudic, they take on
   significant prominence in Chassidic theology. They become the impetus
   for an aggressive theology which is informed by a religiosity that
   sees itself driven by a Divine immanence which infuses our values and
   ethical intuitions with spiritual resonance, subsequently leading to
   radical societal change.

   Such change is actually an integral part of Chassidic social history.
   When one looks at recent major changes in traditional Jewish society
   it is hard not to notice that the forerunners were often Chassidim. The
   last sixty years have seen far reaching social and political change.

   The two most dramatic changes that have happened is that Jews are now
   sovereign and women have made significant progress in their pursuit of
   religious equality. The pioneers of both these changes were driven, at
   least in part, by a chassidic ethos. R. Menachem Mendel Schneerson,
   the Rebbi of Lubavitch, was one of the first orthodox scholars to
   champion female Talmud scholarship, while R. Avraham Yitzchak Kook,
   a serious student of Chassidut, was an outspoken early proponent of
   a Zionist state.

   There is no doubt that their chassidic worldview, at least partially,
   informed their proactive stances towards these changes. Their adherence
   to a spiritualized religiosity allowed them to explore new religious
   vistas. Their unique theological outlook changed the religious and
   legal equation for them, simultaneously making their decisions more
   complex, but also more progressive. Their spiritualized worldview
   allowed them to see divinity in the ostensibly secular state or the
   seemingly illegitimate request of women for greater equality.

   Granted, this hybrid of chassidic spiritualization and robust religious
   creativity would be a 21^st century concoction, traditionally, these
   two do not go together. Chassidism, for the most part, frowns on
   change and rejects innovation. As a matter of fact, nineteenth century
   Hungarian Chassidim were vociferously opposed to any accommodations
   to modernity. Further, the contemporary thinker is not going to
   intuitively embrace spiritualized non-rational thought. It is,
   nevertheless, a match pregnant with immense potential and could go
   a long way towards reviving a dormant Modern Orthodoxy.

   Contemporary Modern Orthodoxy is struggling; a significant number
   of its adherents are abandoning yiddishkeit and many who stay
   no longer find it meaningful; inertia has set in. I suspect that
   Modern Orthodoxy's rationalist ethos is partially to blame. Current
   Modern Orthodox theology is Litvish and hyper-Maimonidean, it lacks
   a native spiritual core, and does not satisfy people's search for
   meaning. We are due for a change. Chassidus could be that change
   agent. I strongly believe that a chassidic theology combined with a
   sophisticated modern overlay could be the elixir for the dispassion and
   disinterest that ails our community. It will provide our community what
   it so desperately needs: a torat chaim ve'ahavt chesed; a Torah that
   stimulates our minds but at the same time also gladdens our neshamah.