Sin-A-Gogue

by David Bashevkin

  We’ve shared Hasidic paths for the righteous, the middle ground, and the unrighteous. What about those who are a little bit of each? Such confused souls may find comfort in the world of Izbica. As previously discussed, Izbica Hasidut incorporated elements of determinism into their theological worldview.370 Even within the deterministic structure of Izbica Hasidut man is cautioned not to assume that his actions are in fact divinely sanctioned. Instead, a continual process of self-evaluation known as berur is necessary in order to be assured of God’s endorsement of an individual’s actions.371 Navigating this tension between continuous self-doubt in a world of determinism is certainly confusing, but Izbica Hasidut in many ways is intended for the confused. Izbica Hasidut provides a complex mystical decision-making system that allows certain individuals to reach total harmony between their individual prerogatives and the transcendent divine will. As Brill describes, “When the consecration of daily life in the heart reaches a state of clarified consciousness (berur), it is possible to perform one’s actions, even sin and desire, in harmony with inner Divine will.”372 Within the world of Izbica even the confused can find clarity and even clarity can seem confusing.

  Hasidic literature is rich with creative paths and hidden doorways for sinners to rediscover their relationship with God. A central tenet of Hasidic thought is the Zoharic passage that “there is nothing besides Him” . Whether you consider yourself among the righteous, on middle ground, unrighteous, or downright confused there is a path in Hasidic thought to stand beside Him.

  The Practical Empathy in Halakhic Responsa

  Advice to the repentant was not restricted to the Hasidic world. Particularly in responsa literature, non-Hasidic rabbinic writing is replete with correspondence from those seeking a path towards repentance. In general, rabbinic responsa do not have the same overt mystical and theological tone found in Hasidic sources, but their approach to repentance is nonetheless quite creative.

  Rabbi Yehezkel Landau (1713–93), often referred to as the Nodeh B-Yehudah, the title of his responsa, was first and foremost a Halakhist. His responsa remain a classic contribution to the genre that still continue to be quoted today. One responsum in particular is frequently cited regarding the penance needed for a repentant sinner.373 In 1770 a future rabbi, who is unnamed for obvious reasons, sent Rabbi Landau an astonishing question. The anonymous questioner had an affair with a married woman for three years. Now, in a twist that could have come from a modern day talk show, he is married to this woman’s daughter. His question is twofold: is he obligated to tell his father-in-law about the affair and how should he perform teshuvah for his prolonged affair? The latter question is of particular relevance to our discussion. In response to his inquiry about teshuvah Rabbi Landau gives a detailed response about his view on the penance process. In general, Rabbi Landau explains, he does not answer such questions “since I am not accustomed to responding to questions that I cannot find a source for in the Talmud and Halakhic authorities.” Rabbi Landau is quite clear that he does not look favorably at the more detailed penance plans that were popularized by many associated with the Hasidei Ashkenaz. While he does express reverence for the work of Rabbi Eleazar of Worms, later books that detail penance “are by and large built upon logic from their stomachs without any foundation—each work just relying on the words of the other.”374 Fasting and acts of asceticism are not an essential part of repentance. Instead, he reminds, “The essence of teshuvah is leaving the sin, confession with a broken heart, and wholehearted regret.”375 Given the gravity of the sin, Rabbi Landau does not let his correspondent off easily. He still details an onerous menu of fasting, Torah study, asceticism, prayer, and charity to atone for the affair. Nonetheless, he continually emphasizes that it is important to distinguish between the essential components of teshuvah and the ritual that is ancillary. In essence, teshuvah is not about fasting and penance. Real repentance is a brokenhearted confession with a wholehearted commitment not to repeat the sin.

  Rabbi Moshe Sofer (1762–1839) lived in the generation following Rabbi Landau. Together they were the towering Halakhic figures that shaped Jewish life during the Enlightenment.376 In a response requesting his views on penance he reinforces much of Rabbi Landau’s position—the essence of teshuvah is not fasting but rather confession, regret, and a commitment to abandon the practice of sin.377 Rabbi Sofer, however, adds an innovative ritual to the process of teshuvah: a personal day of reflection. Yom Kippur is traditionally the day on which the Jewish people collectively focus on repentance. Rabbi Sofer suggests that for those who struggled with a particular sin, an additional personal day of reflection be added to reflect on that particular mistake:

  And it appears to me, that it is proper and correct for someone performing teshuvah, after fulfilling all of the standard practices for teshuvah, he should establish one day in the year—either the day in which he initially succumbed to sin or the day in which he resolved to return to God. On that day it should be for him each year a day of fasting and repentance with tears and grief as well as confession and regret. This is along the lines of the verse “and my iniquities are always before me” (see Psalms 51:5). This is no less reasonable that someone who had a miracle performed for him which saved him from bodily harm for which it is proper to establish a day to remember the miracle (see Berakhot 54a). All the more so, should he do such for a spiritual danger when his soul was saved.

  It is unclear if this ritual was ever practically observed. While Rabbi Sofer mentions an earlier source suggesting a similar idea, it is still a remarkable innovation. This practice is a reminder of the personal component of the repentance process. On Yom Kippur we return collectively, but we may all need to create our own personal Yom Kippur in addition.

  Buried at the end of the sixth volume of Igrot Moshe, the Halachic magnum opus of Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, are four responsa to questions posed by people dealing with serious sin. As opposed to most of Rabbi Feinstein’s reponsa, which concern practical questions of Halakhah, these letters deal with the process of repentance and advice to the repentant. As with the previous examples, it is worth pausing to consider that people struggling with behaviors so outside of the bounds of normative Halakhic practice still felt compelled and comfortable enough to address the leading Halakhic figure in their time. All of the questions are dated between 1975 and 1977 and in order of publication deal with homosexuality, masturbation, a marital affair, and extramarital sex. Contrary to most of Rabbi Feinstein’s other responses, all of these are published without the name of the questioner. Clearly, they are grouped together because they deal with a similar theme—how to repent for serious sins. Rabbi Feinstein’s approach could be characterized as practical empathy; he both commiserates with the pain of the questioner while also affirming the traditional Halakhic standards.

  In response to the person who asked for penance for homosexual behavior, Rabbi Feinstein explains that even though he is overwhelmed with more practical Halakhic responsibilities he feels compelled to answer given the extra latitude provided in Halakhic literature to help those seeking repentance.378 “I did not find a Halakhic question in your letter,” Rabbi Feinstein writes. Yet he responds “to provide encouragement not to become depressed and become mired in something which requires strengthening from the strategies of the evil inclination.” A repeated theme, which appears in this letter as well, is that in-depth Torah study is the best antidote to succumbing to base desires. Rabbi Feinstein references Maimonides’s conclusion in the Laws of Prohibited Intercourse (22:21), which state that thoughts of sexuality only overcome those whose minds are absent of wisdom. The best strategy to avoid sin is to become preoccupied with loftier matters.

  The third letter responded to a woman who engaged in an inappropriate relationship with her boss while serving as his secretary. She turned to Rabbi Feinstein several years after the incident for advice on how to repent properly. His response ends with a tender note of optimistic encouragement:

  Furthermore, you need to
understand that God forbid you should not be depressed. Rather, you should rejoice that you have merited repentance and a marriage to a scholar. And on Yom Kippur God will grant you complete forgiveness.

  Rabbis Landau, Sofer, and Feinstein all tempered the more ominous and onerous process of repentance developed by Hasidei Ashkenaz. Perhaps even more so than the encouragement found in the works of the Hasidim of the Baal Shem Tov, it was especially necessary for Halakhic literature to reclaim a more streamlined and text-based process of repentance. Without dismissing the stature of Rabbi Eleazer of Worms, these Halakhic leaders were able to define a more practical and attainable path to penance by removing many of the extra-Talmudic pietistic practices advocated by Hasidei Ashkenaz. The road towards repentance should not just be for the pious but accessible enough for any petitioner to traverse.

  The Radical Empathy in Rabbinic Correspondence

  It is not just about what advice rabbis gave to sinners, but it is also important to consider where they imparted that advice. As this discussion noted initially, there is something unique about rabbinic correspondence. Sure, rabbinic responsa is probably the most well-known form of rabbinic correspondence, but there is another category known as igrot , personal correspondence, which even more plainly captures the practical advice rabbinic personalities offered to people who struggled with religious crisis or failure.379 Responsa are primarily concerned with Halakhic questions; igrot are mostly concerned with personal and communal issues.380 Both of these forms of correspondence differ in one important way from normal rabbinic commentaries—there is a specific recipient. The fact that correspondence is addressing a specific individual infuses rabbinic writing with a deeply personal tone. As opposed to classic rabbinic commentaries, rabbinic correspondence exists on the nexus where abstract theology meets practical communal and personal policy.

  The entire genre of rabbinic correspondence throughout history deserves its own study, but that is clearly outside of the scope of our discussion. Instead we will limit our focus to two rabbis whose personal correspondence dealt a lot with religious crisis and failure: namely, Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky (1899–1985) and Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner (1906–80). While both of these rabbis published on a wide range of topics, neither published formal Halakhic responsa. The only correspondences we have from each are their igrot, their personal letters. And as we will see, their personal letters developed a radical empathy towards religious failure and crisis.

  Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky, also known as the Steipler, was renowned for his simple piety.381 His brother-in-law, the famed Rabbi Yeshayah Karelitz, known as the Hazon Ish, was said to have chosen Rabbi Kanievsky as a suiter for his sister based on his perceptible piety and natural awe for God. Nonetheless, for reasons that are not entirely clear Rabbi Kanievsky became an address for people struggling with all sorts of psychological issues and religious lapses. Dr. Yaakov Greenwald, a noted psychoanalyst in the American Haredi community, exchanged letters for many years with Rabbi Kanievsky regarding yeshiva students who were struggling with depression and religious despair.382 Rabbi Kanievsky’s letters are also mentioned by Drs. David Greenberg and Eliezer Witztum in their book Sanity and Sanctity, a discussion of mental health among the ultra-Orthodox in Jerusalem. They cite the following letter from Kanievsky in response to a yeshiva student who had lost the will to live:

  If he is capable of holding a job as a Talmud teacher, then giving him such responsibility would increase his interest, encourage him to study in depth, and in this way his feelings would be developed towards everything. If he is exceptionally gifted, he should be advised to edit a religious text…. The awakening of his emotions in this one area will lead to general improvement. If he is an outstanding student, then he should start studying with a fellow student the texts of dietary laws requisite for becoming a rabbi, so that while studying he will have an ambition to become a rabbi. If this happens, then his other feelings will follow suit.383

  A recurring panacea is the importance of staying busy and productive. In a series of collected letters to those struggling with masturbation, Rabbi Kanievsky constantly emphasizes not to waste time or despair.384 “And the very essential principle is,” he reminds, “do not despair, God forbid, for you must constantly have hope that God will help you.”385 While recognizing the vicissitudes of religious life, Rabbi Kanievsky asserts that “the primary time for the service of God is during times of decline.”386

  In a particularly moving letter, Rabbi Kanievsky seems to portend the trending slogan #ItGetsBetter. To a student described as “feeling emotional pain without finding satisfaction in anything,” he writes:

  Many times people such as this come to me and I treat them a lot by strengthening for them the notion that this is only a passing phenomenon. And I tell them that I know many people like this who, after time, a year or two, return little by little, and are like any other person. And with this knowledge, when they believe me that this time will pass, it generally lessens the tension. I also remind them that in truth everyone in their community suffers. Some from poverty, some with debt, some have been disgraced, some have difficulty with children. And sometimes, this too brings some modicum of comfort.387

  The collection of Rabbi Kanievsky’s letters are called Kreina d-Igrassa, which is based on a Talmudic passage in Sanhedrin. Following the incident where Zimri, the leader of the tribe of Shimon, has relations with the Midianite princess Cozbi, Moshe is unsure of the Halakhic punishment for Zimri. Pinhas reminds Moshe that the law says he should be killed by zealots. Moshe, urging Pinhas to fulfill this law, responds to Pinhas, “Let the one who reads the letter be the agent (to fulfill its contents).” And indeed, the substance of Rabbi Kanievsky’s letters is meant to be fulfilled by its readers. The issues that they address, particularly regarding mental health and religious difficulty, occur far too often in the Jewish community. Rabbi Kanievsky’s answers really are simple yet essential religious truths. Productivity, patience, and optimism return again and again as the remedies for religious upheaval. Whoever reads these letters is transformed from a reader to an agent for their execution.

  Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner, the leader of Yeshivat Chaim Berlin, spent his youth learning near Kovno in Lithuania at Yeshivat Knesset Yisrael, known as the Slabodka Yeshiva, under the tutelage of Rabbi Nosson Tzvi Finkel, affectionately known as the Alter (elder). One morning while all of the other students had already paired up for havruta (paired) learning, the Alter found Rabbi Hutner learning by himself. The Alter, concerned that Rabbi Hutner did not have a study partner, asked, “Where is your havruta?” Rabbi Hutner explained that he was learning with his yetzer ha-rah—his evil inclination. “Instead, why don’t you learn with your yetzer tov—your good inclination?” asked the Alter. Rabbi Hutner, who was known for his wit, replied, “I can always count on my yetzer ha-rah to show up on time for morning studies. The yetzer tov is not as reliable.”

  This story captures both Rabbi Hutner’s clever wit and much of his approach to religious failure. For Rabbi Hutner, it was preferable to have his evil inclination as a study partner rather than his more angelic nature. The latter was bland; challenging the former produced the friction that could propel someone to greatness.

  Throughout his letters Rabbi Hutner returns to a single theme: greatness that emerges from challenge. Rabbi Hutner explains that you can only detect the strength of a person’s grasp when you try to remove the object from the person’s hand.388 He writes: “It is entirely possible to learn with diligence in yeshiva and nonetheless, based on that, you still cannot evince the person’s relationship with Torah.”389 A relationship is only proven after it is challenged. For this reason Rabbi Hutner often reminds his students that his ideas may resonate only after they have departed from his presence. Cleverly marshaling the verse in Psalms (34:12), “Go my children, listen to me,” Rabbi Hutner explains that a remote relationship often establishes the imperative for attentiveness.390 Intimacy is forged through absence.

  It is not
just absence from the walls of yeshiva that is given significance—spiritual voids are also invested with the presence of spiritual meaning. In an oft-cited letter (No. 94), Rabbi Hutner offers a brilliant analogy to someone whose secular accomplishments feel like a hypocritical duality in an otherwise spiritual existence. Rabbi Hutner assures the questioner that nothing could be further from the truth:

  Someone who rents a room in one house to live a residential life and another room in a hotel to live a transient life is certainly someone who lives a double life. But someone who has a home with more than one room has a broad life, not a double life.

  Rabbi Hutner advocated for a broad life—with expansive unity—and he modeled it. He also understood that in the pursuit of breadth, some students may fall short. It was in the possibilities and realities of failure, in fact, that Rabbi Hutner’s letters shine most brilliantly. We may not know which tests are which, but certainly through the course of life, people will confront failures that were simply inevitable.391 The true test, according to Rabbi Hutner, is not one’s ability to avoid sin and failure but developing an appropriate reaction and evaluation of the occurrence of sin.