Adam Ferziger might have said of the latest brouhaha over the Rabbinical Council of America’s vote to deny the ordination and hiring of women in rabbinical roles, “I told you so.” In Beyond Sectarianism, he posits that Modern Orthodoxy’s “slide to the right” is not a one-directional development, but that the growth of both hareidi and Modern Orthodoxy has led to a realignment and a triumphalism that carries with it a propensity to draw lines in the sand. Those of us in the Open Orthodoxy camp should take note—but not fear.
Using his knowledge of both sociology and Jewish history, Ferziger builds upon a distinction made by sociologist Charles Liebman in the 1960s between “church” and “sect.” Liebman saw Modern Orthodoxy as “church-like” in that it was inclusive and emphasized what it shared with non-Orthodox Jews, whereas hareidi Judaism, in both its Hasidic and mitnagdic versions, was “sect-like” or turned inward, catering to the needs of its own constituency. Liebman thought that despite the fervor and the ideological consistency of the hareidim, they would shrivel in numbers because of their resistance to Americanization. However, according to the 2013 Pew Report, hareidim now comprise two-thirds of those who identify as Orthodox. What happened?
Several developments worked against Orthodox isolationism and toward greater involvement in the larger American Jewish community. In his early chapters, Ferziger traces how leadership of the Soviet Jewry movement, heritage trips to Eastern Europe, and, most significantly, the kiruv movement brought Orthodox Jews into closer relationships with non-Orthodox Jews. The public activism adopted by the Modern Orthodox leadership of the Student Struggle for Soviet Jewry was later embraced by mainstream American Jewish organizations, and even though the Lubavitcher rebbe opposed public demonstrations, he cooperated with SSSJ in sending religious materials with activists who traveled to the Soviet Union.
In the field of outreach, or kiruv, it was the hareidim— particularly Chabad, but also the Lithuanian yeshivas, through their community kollels—who led the way. (Curiously, Ferziger does not mention the Modern Orthodox National Jewish Outreach Program, founded by Rabbi Ephraim Buchwald.) Right-wing rabbis were willing to go into non-Orthodox synagogues to teach (and to take money from Federations and from organizations like the Avi Chai Foundation to do so) on the theory that their non-Orthodox students were “infants taken captive” who were not responsible for their dearth of mitzvah observance. Orthodoxy’s earlier polemic against the liberal denominations as heretical softened, although this change did not imply legitimization of the denominations themselves.
The accusation of heresy did not, however, go away; it was directed instead at the proponents of expanding the religious roles of women in Orthodox Judaism. (That’s us, Orthodox feminists.) Ferziger analyzes the strategies employed to counter Jewish feminism, and in particular, the prohibitive role of Rabbi Herschel Schachter, from his 1997 opposition to women’s tefillah groups to his 2004 essay “Can Women Be Rabbis?” to his rejection of women wearing tefillin and his disapproval of partnership minyanim. He notes that Rabbi Schachter’s arguments were often meta-halakhic, moving “beyond technical points to meta-legal or policy considerations.” Rather than answering the specific halakhic arguments for expanding women’s roles made by Rabbi Mendel Shapiro and Rabbi Professor Daniel Sperber, Rabbi Schachter invoked “historical tradition,” or mesorah, painting Jewish feminists as similar to Sadducees, early Christians, and the Reform movement, who were all considered heretics. Ferziger draws a parallel between Rabbi Schachter’s rhetoric and the polemics used by the Ultra-Orthodox Hungarian school of the Hatam Sofer (Rabbi Moses Sofer) against the more “modern” Orthodox camp of Rabbi Esriel Hildesheimer. Both Rabbi Schachter and the Hatam Sofer sought to delegitimize their opponents by comparing them to those who were already considered “beyond the pale.”
So where does the boundary-setting happen, and who gets to set these boundaries? In his concluding chapter, Ferziger details the battles of the last few years over “Open Orthodoxy” and its flagship institution, Yeshivat Chovevei Torah. He notes Rabbi Asher Lopatin’s call, on ascending to the helm of YCT, for a more inclusive Orthodoxy, and the response of Rabbi Avi Shafran, spokesperson for Agudath Israel, that “Open Orthodoxy is not really Orthodox at all.” Ferziger sees the move to the right of Modern Orthodoxy and the decline in sectarianism of hareidi Orthodoxy as possibly producing a situation in which the two will come together to challenge the legitimacy of Open Orthodoxy. Will they draw a line in the sand?
Other factors to consider are the influence of the Israeli yeshivot on both the learning and observance levels of American Modern Orthodoxy and the shift to the right in non-Jewish religious communities worldwide.
Ferziger concludes, “Notwithstanding the realignment highlighted in this volume, then, at this juncture it is premature to declare that Modern Orthodoxy will disappear as a distinctive educational ideal and lifestyle.” Will this Modern Orthodoxy more resemble Open Orthodoxy or hareidism? Ferziger suggests that economics and sociology will play as important a role as theology. Adam Ferziger is a fine historian, but he is not, nor does he claim to be, a prophet.