Throughout our history, some Jews have run from danger and others engaged in battle. Some Jews have built towering walls and others built sturdy bridges. Some Jews lived a life of fear and others lived a life of courage. In this era of extreme unrest in which world order and Jewish order seem to be built on the quicksand of Pisom and Ramses, our community, people like us, have an incredibly important role to play.
Allow me to explain.
This past Sunday, Nicolas Maduro stood in a packed courtroom. The question of whether or not he should have been captured was not up for discussion. The only question was whether or not justice could be served. Who could be trusted to not be swayed by politics in a climate of extreme partisanship? Who has proven themselves able to not settle until justice is served?
92-year-old, Alvin Hellerstein, was chosen as the judge – and for good reason. Despite being a Columbia Law School graduate with impeccable credentials, most firms refused to hire him. After all, he was a Jew, and this was the 1950’s. But he didn’t run away; he engaged, finally finding a place to work and quickly moving up the ladder. In the 70’s, he was an active participant in the fight to free Russian Refuseniks. After 9/11, he presided over all the numerous hearings between victims of the attacks, airlines, and New York City, balancing empathy and justice like no other. He had Harvey Weinstein thrown into jail and Michael Cohen released. Most impressively, he managed to annoy both former President Obama and President Trump.
He is also an Orthodox Jew. He once told an interviewer that he likes to schedule difficult sentencing hearings on Fridays so that he could use Shabbos to reflect on the case. And although he acknowledges that religion has no place in a courtroom, he admits that his Torah values are a part of who he is and make their way into his rulings. In his words, “Part of my accountability is to the Court of Appeals, where I can be reversed, and I often am. Another is my account to the individuals involved directly in the process. And third, I have to account to G-d. My purpose in life is to be as good a judge as I can be, and I have to ask [G-d] for strength and wisdom in performing that job.”
He believes, like we claim to, that Jews should be out and proud in the public square, that Judaism has what to say about every complex issue, and that in a morally-bereft world, it is our responsibility to be in the fray, navigating good from bad. He is a Jew who does not run from danger, but engages in battle, who lives not with fear, but with courage.
On Sunday, while Judge Hellerstein was presiding over this case in New York City, a few miles away, in Lakewood, New Jersey, a group of rabbis were gathering to discuss AI and its impact on the Jewish Orthodox community. They highlighted the fact that AI in particular and technology in general can foster dependency and addiction, can negatively impact human relationships, and can lead people to serious Torah transgressions. I don’t think there is any room to argue with those conclusions.
However, they then unanimously agreed that they have to work harder on eliminating all usages of AI. Unlike Judge Hellerstein, their approach to challenge is to create better walls, and honestly, I do not fault them at the slightest.
Who could deny the terrible impact social media has had on our youth’s self-esteem and well-being? Who could argue that the internet has taken a vice which necessitated going to a convenience store and slickly hiding a magazine under a newspaper, to unfettered access, causing immeasurable damage to the intimate lives of our entire society? The internet is a cesspool of toxicity and immorality. And these rabbis chose to stay away from it.
The question of how to deal with such dangers goes back to the early days of our peoplehood. Egypt was the mecca of corruption and decadence, and our ancestors took two very different approaches in dealing with it. Eleven of the tribes chose to hide far away from the center of Egyptian culture in a city called Goshen. There was no WiFi in Goshen, they dressed differently than all of society, they built their own self-imposed ghetto. And then there was Yosef. He was an Egyptian and dressed the part. He lived in the capital and interacted with the men and women of Egyptian culture. Two models – two legitimate models, for the ages.
I think it’s safe to say that if you are in this room, you identify with Yosef and his attempt to navigate a complicated world. You too want to take the best of American culture and bridge it with the Torah. You too want to engage in technology but expertly separate between the holy and the impure.
Unfortunately, too often that attempt at nuance translates into watering Judaism down. Too often, those of us who try to walk the tightrope end up lazily taking some of Halacha seriously and disregarding the chapters that don’t fit our lifestyle comfortably. Too often, I hear variations of the following type of question: “Rabbi, I don’t want politics. I don’t want stringencies. Is this allowed? And by the way, I’m not really asking for myself, I’m asking for a friend.” You know, just in case the answer’s no. And that only includes the people who are even asking the questions.
What we too often fail to realize, is that to be Yosef Jews, to be Jews who engage in battle, we can’t have less convictions, we must have more.
What those rabbis gathering in Lakewood may not have noticed is that the walls of Goshen have fallen; the ability to separate yourself from society is a farce in the 21st century, whether you live in New York City or Lakewood. But what that means is that we, the Yosefs of the Jewish People, have a greater responsibility to the Jewish community than ever.
We do not agree that our children should not go to college, fine. But that means that we must be preparing our teens to go out into the world and have such strong Jewish convictions that nothing will faze them.
We don’t agree with segregated kiddushes, fine. But that means that we must show the world how people of the opposite gender can interact, being friendly not flirty.
We don’t agree with all-out-internet bans, fine. But that means that we must be honest with ourselves, not just children but as adults, about the internet’s dangers, and take responsible steps to curb them.
We don’t agree with running away from society, fine. But that means that we must be more confident in what it means to live the life of a Torah Jew.
To be a Yosef is awesome. But it necessitates not watering down but being on fire.
Judaism was almost lost on the slave-fields of Egypt. Apathy had set in. Our ancestors were overwhelmed by the stress and were seduced by the pleasure that Egyptian life had to offer. (See Mesilas Yesharim Chapter 2 and Rashi on the “free fish” Bamidbar 11:5). Our Sages teach us that what kept us alive was the nashim tzidkaniyos, the righteous women. You know what they did?
They harnessed the sexuality that was rampant in Egypt and used it for holiness. They met their husbands in the fields, they aroused them and ensured that there would be future generations of Jewish children. They were Yosef Jews who expertly distinguished between the holy and impure and we are here today because of them.
So once again, throughout our history, some Jews have run from danger and others engaged in battle. Some Jews built towering walls and others built sturdy bridges. Some lived a life of fear and others lived a life of courage.
The world today, with its revolutions, unrest, political violence, and extreme moral confusion, needs us Yosefs more than ever. To succeed, the Yosefs of the world do not need less, they need more. More passionate prayer, more fidelity to Jewish Law, more Torah knowledge, more fire. Let’s lead the way.