DIASPORA DIVIDED: The future looks Haredi but where do the rest of us fit in?

In part two of his series, CLIVE LAWTON writes that Jews face a future in which the fastest growing segment of the community cares little for the rest

HAD ANY CASUAL observer in the 1950s, post-war and on the heels of the founding of the State of Israel, been asked about the Haredi role in the future of the Jewish people, most would have said they were finished. (They also would have asked, “What do you mean by ‘Haredim’? But we’ll return to that later.)

Often called “ultra-Orthodox”, this group are no more Orthodox than, say, the British Chief Rabbi. If you insist on English words, call them “Differently Orthodox”.

But Haredim works better. It comes from the Torah. The Israelites shivered, shook or quaked in awe at the revelation at Sinai. That verb is Kh-r-d, hence Kharedim, quakers!

Haredim are themselves diverse but there are two distinct camps, Hasidim and Mitnagdim. This distinction stems back to the founding of Hasidism in the 18^th century, when their vehement opponents (which is what “mitnagdim” means) distrusted the charismatic, mystical, evangelical, populist nature of Hasidism, and even sometimes shopped them to the Tzarist authorities. Far from being the authentic face of Judaism, Hasidim were radicals.

Hasidim today probably outnumber Mitnagdim by three or four to one, though the inclusion of some Mizrahi and Sephardi Jews among Haredim, especially in Israel, makes the old distinctions harder to read. Further, Hasidim are divided into subsects, some of whom are daggers-drawn. For example, Satmar Hasidim show deep contempt towards Lubavitch.

So, as interesting as all this may be, is it pertinent to a series on significant splits in the Jewish world?

First is the fact that most, though not all, Haredim want nothing to do with other Jews. Chabad/Lubavitch (which worldwide is a tiny subset of Haredim) obscures this from many of us. Overall, though, the Haredi world is resigned to the “Righteous Remnant” doctrine, arising from Isaiah’s prophecies, that only a small proportion of the Jewish people will ever survive.

So, the contemporary idea of Jewish peoplehood has no resonance with them. Most Jews are written off as not worth bothering with. Trying to “save” us will only result in dragging them down.

In general, Haredim follow the principle “new things are forbidden in the Torah”, first coined by the 19^th century Hungarian rabbi, the Hatam Sopher. New things do not include technology, as anyone who has boarded a flight to Israel can attest. Haredim use mobile phones and drive cars. The forbidden “new things” are cultural.

Haredim are determined to insulate themselves from the pervasive impact of contemporary culture; thus, their avoidance of “fashionable clothing”, the internet, much of social media, theatre, film, TV and so on. They have not entirely succeeded. Some of their children leave, stultified by the narrow horizons they are offered. Many secretly use social media and access films and TV.

Women, who often have better secular educations than their male counterparts, are pushing a range of key current issues, most recently eradicating sexual abuse, if necessary by going to secular authorities.

Every way of “doing Jewish” now available is a product of the 18^th century Enlightenment. Whether your primary Jewish identity is Secular, Zionist, Socialist, Reform, Orthodox, whatever, all were developed in the 19^th century. And that is also true of “Haredi-ism”.

Neither Rashi nor Maimonides would have recognised Haredi doctrines. Keeping their children away from secular knowledge, dressing in their distinctive garb, and showing no interest in Jews with whom they disagree would have baffled the most “Orthodox” (another 19^th century invention) of Jews in previous centuries.

But what has this got to do with the rest of us? Let’s return to the beginning of this article. We asked a casual observer in the 1950s if Haredim had a future and, most probably, they would have answered “No”. Back then, the Haredi world, though not yet called that, had suffered disproportionately in the Shoah. Israel and Zionism were the great hope of mainstream Jewry.

Most Jews were desperately scrabbling to re-establish their grip on their future. And where were the Haredim? Largely unseen. It was as if they had all met soon after the war and said to each other: “OK guys. Two targets. Rebuild yeshivot, have children. Meet back here in three decades.”

And that’s what happened. Three or four decades ago, Jews started to notice the increasing confidence and visibility of Haredim. Demographically they were outstripping the rest of Jewry by significant multiples. While others intermarried, assimilated and generally drifted off, Haredim had enviable retention rates.

Add the erroneous conviction that Haredim were somehow the custodians of the most authentic Judaism from which the rest of us choose to diverge in our various ways, and their place was secured as the bedrock of the Jewish people. All strands of religious Judaism became infused with many of their forms. Yiddish appeared again as a vernacular.

Chabad popularised Hasidic forms as the “real thing”. Haredi rabbis began to call the shots on a range of issues, especially in Israel where the Haredi rabbinate captured the governmental definitions on matters of personal status and kashrut. The “modern Orthodox” were blown out of the water and their fightback is pretty desperate.

It’s easy to be snooty about Haredi ways. Shiddukhim (arranged marriage meetings), wigs and whatnot seem desperately old-fashioned, but it’s worth remembering that contemporary mores are hardly impressive. Choosing your own mate doesn’t have a great record of success.

Haredim, far more pragmatically than the rest of us, don’t take chances on genetically inherited diseases. Modern fashion hasn’t always been a boon to young women, as their objectification makes clear. The internet isn’t always beneficial and positive. A university education doesn’t necessarily leave students particularly well educated.

Chabad is a subset of all of this. From the mid-1960s, it set about seeking to influence the entire Jewish world. Unlike their fellow Haredim, they took on responsibility for every Jew (and, as mentioned earlier, earned the contempt of some others in the Haredi world for doing so).

But in so doing they propagated Jewish forms, not just religiously, but organisationally, which are not espoused by all. For example, Hasidim see the “Rebbe” as the source of authority. “Modern” communities expect “lay leaders”, elected by the members, to lead, with the rabbi as a key player in a more egalitarian structure.

A Chabad rabbi will likely devote no energy at all to leadership development or the sustaining of lay leadership. He is happy to shoulder the whole burden of the community and decide entirely on what happens and what matters.

So, Jews face a future in which the apparently most resilient and fastest growing segment of the community cares little for the rest. That has never happened before. Though one can view Jews as divided between the Orthodox and the rest, with Haredim making common cause with other forms of Orthodoxy (as Mitnagdim did with Hasidim in the face of Reform and secular challenges), one can also see Jews differently divided.

That division is between those who see the future as eventually depending on the “righteous remnant” – the Haredim – and the rest of us. That kind of Manichean vision of the world, a struggle between light and darkness, is entirely in tune with Haredi outlooks but the jury is still out on whether it is bound to be the future.

READ PART 1 Where does Israel lie in the hearts and minds of Diaspora Jews?

Artwork: Avi Katz