Limmud Winnipeg

There’s something extraordinary about Jewish texts. What is it? You may have heard of Hillel and Shammai, or any of the many famous rabbinic voices recorded in the Talmud and Midrash. Our foundational religious texts record and evaluate both the “winning” voice, the rabbi whose opinion became mainstream in our traditions, and minority views.

Sometimes, communities or people follow a viewpoint that was originally the minority voice. I’ve heard people say that they chose a less popular rabbi’s ruling, based on their study of the relevant texts. I’ve been at a Talmud study session where learner pairs presented summaries on why they sided with the minority in a debate.

Analysis and debate remain at the core of our Jewish identities. We’ve all heard the joke, “Two Jews, three opinions!” Sandwiched in that is the idea that we learned and thought deeply about it. There’s another angle to this joke though – the assumption that, if we’ve come to this point, we’ve heard differing opinions. We learned enough to make a judgment. We’re also committed to a civil discourse to get there, because, if every study session or discussion meant people fought violently, we’d never have survived for thousands of years.

Jews are traditionally committed to behaving appropriately – derech eretz, literally “the way of the land,” means “how we behave” – promoting peace and avoiding embarrassing others unnecessarily. We value a good argument but, in the end, agreeing to disagree – with civility – is key.

I recently read a piece written by historian Henry Abramson. It was published by online newsfeed JTA (Jewish Telegraphic Agency) about the Bergen-Belsen marriage contracts (ketubot) produced after the Second World War. After the war, this concentration camp became a displaced persons camp. There was a marriage and baby boom, seen as a way to repopulate the many lives lost there. However, the “standard” ketubah issued there did something very different. These marriage contracts acknowledged that many people didn’t know what had happened to their prewar spouses and families. It took years to find this out, and the contract stated that, if their first families reappeared, the people who signed this contract must take the situation to a beit din (a Jewish court) to figure out what to do. Jewish law was flexible and resilient enough in this terrible situation to find recourse in civility and law.

Unfortunately, the effort to accept difficult, diverse situations and opinions is being lost to the larger culture’s problems with incivility. Recently, the Charedi Orthodox deputy mayor of Jerusalem, Eliezer Rauchberger, was the keynote speaker at a national convention for Israel’s Real Estate Appraisers Association. He canceled at the last moment when he saw the event was being held in facility owned by the Conservative movement. He took the opportunity to condemn those who affiliate with the Reform and Conservative movements, calling them heretical. He sought to embarrass and shame others rather than be inclusive. (Hint: That’s not in line with the commandments.)

These are “distant” stories, but, closer to home, we’ve just demonstrated both sides of this civility debate in Winnipeg. Limmud supports the wide diversity of Jewish opinion and, as such, organizers of the learning event in Winnipeg invited Lex Rofeberg, a rabbinical student, educator and activist to speak. Rofeberg’s Limmud and Shabbat dinner topics weren’t controversial. His lecture subject was Digital Judaism, a topic that’s long overdue. (Parts of Winnipeg’s Jewish community look like they still use the abacus compared to other communities when it comes to this topic.)

Some people, however, disagree with Rofeberg’s Israel activism. Instead of respecting the right of others to hold a different opinion, they use their social media bullhorns to protest. These voices were loud in this case. It seems they had the attention of those with deep pockets who donate to support Jewish events. But, being loud, bullying others and manipulating funders doesn’t mean they were right.

Jewish tradition teaches us that minority voices deserve to be heard. It teaches us to respect others’ right to an opinion and to behave appropriately. These aren’t just Jewish values, they are our country’s democratic values. We should be flexible and resilient in our responses, not quick to condemn others.

Canceling Rofeberg’s Shabbat Across Winnipeg lecture (even though Rofeberg wasn’t going to make any comments about Israel or politics) was described as an action that would maintain shalom b’bayit, peace in the home. That’s another aspect of derech eretz many of us invoke as we try to hush shouting children. Limmud Winnipeg, by contrast, continued to support Rofeberg’s appearance at its event.

I missed this real-time drama. My kids go to bed early, so we eat Shabbat dinner at home. I’m not on Facebook. I didn’t get to Limmud this year. However, based on what I’ve read and heard, I’m saddened that some Jewish institutions bowed down before the social media bullies and donor dollars, and withdrew their support for the event.

Can we learn from people with whom we disagree? Of course. Does shaming others whose opinions differ with yours have a place in Jewish discourse? No.

North American Jews emphasize education. With that learning comes the ability to do analysis and think critically. We’re lucky to live in a country that allows us to voice those differing opinions. Shame on us, Winnipeggers, for bowing down to bullies who would silence that discourse – all for a little peace on Shabbat. We should know better. We should support healthy debate about things that matter to us. As adults, we should be able to behave appropriately and peacefully on Shabbat regardless.

We lost an opportunity to be our best selves – thinking, discussing and disagreeing while we break bread together. That said, I believe our community will have many opportunities to do this better in the future. The research indicates that younger Jewish community members may have different views – including those on Israel’s politics – than their grandparents do. It’s time to listen respectfully to one another.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. See more about her at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Rabbi Zvi Hirschfield at Limmud Winnipeg. (photo by Rebeca Kuropatwa)

It was a packed room at the Gray Academy of Jewish Education during Rabbi Zvi Hirschfield’s session on gossip at Winnipeg’s Limmud festival in March. Some 80 attendees listened as Hirschfield steered the dialogue through biblical excerpts, and a discussion of gossip from ancient times to today.

Hirschfield grew up in Chicago. He studied for a number of years at Israel’s Yeshivat Har Etzion. After completing a BA in history at Columbia University, he did graduate work at Harvard University in medieval and modern Jewish thought. He received smicha from Israel’s Chief Rabbinate and has taught adult students of all ages at the Pardes Institute in Jerusalem for 15 years. Hirschfield lives in Gush Etzion with his wife, Dena, and their four children.

Gossip, he told those gathered, is destructive in many ways. Gossip can include inaccurate information, it can ruin reputations, it often lacks context and is especially subject to interpretation by the gossipper.

“The most obvious form of gossip that’s negative is when [the information is] false,” said Hirschfield. “I think we can all agree there is no possible justification that we’re comfortable with about sharing false information about somebody.”

What about sharing information that is true, however? To answer, Hirschfield led the audience on an exploration of a biblical passage from Numbers, 12:1-15. He explained, “We know that Aaron and Miriam are speaking about their brother, not an unusual family dynamic – two siblings speaking about the third sibling, seemingly saying something comparative. But, we know that God gets angry and views this as a sin.”

Even praise can be considered verboten, he said. “Even if I say something outright nice about somebody, the rabbis still seem to be saying that we should be very careful about that,” said Hirschfield.

“Why will [praise] bring about negatives?” asked Hirschfield. He gave an example. “I hear something good about Jim. I suddenly feel an urge [to think] something not so nice about Jim. So, when a name comes up, the rabbis are saying my instinct is well, yeah, Jim might be generous, but he’s also a lousy driver. We want to be helpful, but a little piece of us is taking a certain pleasure in sharing the information and creating a connection. We feel better about our own lives if we hear that somebody else is doing worse. I must be an OK person, because I would never do what Jim and his cousin did.”

He contined, “The rabbis seem to be saying that even when we are saying good things, there is an impulse to want to go to the negative. There is an agenda there whether we are aware of it or not. The rabbis are saying the other agenda is always there – always ready to emerge – when other people and their lives become the topic of our conversation.”

Hirschfield went on to talk about Moses (Moshe), who was referred to in the Torah as an anav [humble person]. He explained that this means Moses “was not in it for himself, not wanting his position for himself…. He felt his [brother Aaron] would be hurt and his only reaction was concern for his brother. It should be that way. An anav is somebody who doesn’t put themselves at the centre.

“I’m going to argue this is also the principle behind what happens with gossip,” he added. “So many of us fall into the trap that our sense of well-being is based on us looking to the left and the right. And, it’s such a deep trap that, even when we are trying to help, there’s a little piece of us that can’t help to cherish that nugget of information and go home and think, ‘I’m not as bad as Jim. I’m doing OK.’

“While sometimes we should share information to protect ourselves and other people, we have to be what we are thinking and make sure we are anavim. Moshe would share information, not to harm, but out of concern, out of love and out of care. If we want to be anavim and we’re not living our lives in comparison or competition, I don’t think there’s a danger.”

However, he clarified, “I’m not anti all competition. We can be motivated by other people’s success. If you learn a lot of Talmud, that motivates me to also learn a lot of Talmud, and I think that’s OK.”

The way Hirschfield sees it, “creating a holy community built on the us as opposed to being me … being about me and you is the way to go. Trying to find that success by bringing down other people takes away from communal holiness … and that’s the challenge.”

God, he continued, “is described as holy, because God doesn’t have to compete with anyone. [However, human beings] will try to win through fair means and sometimes through foul. Sometimes we’ll feel good because of our own accomplishments and sometimes we will feel good because of other people’s failure.” The alternative is to “aspire to create a shared context where we are all building something.”

Self-interest is not inherently bad, however. “We’re never going to be without self-interest,” he said. “We’re never going to lose our egos. We’re never going to lose that sense of … the way I figure out how I’m doing is by looking at other people. We’re human beings, and that’s clear.

“If I find myself constantly seeking out negative information about the people I’m around and I’m constantly supplying negative information, I’d want to use that as a type of mirror and say, ‘Wait a minute. Where am I? What’s going on with me that I am so excited and so interested to hear about other people’s failures? What is it about the fact that when I hear good news about somebody there’s a piece of me that wants to knock that down?’”

The focus, then, can be on the building a “holy community,” he said. “I think, for all of us here, that’s a way we can think about. How engaged am I in creating holy community? How committed am I to trying to build something with other people as opposed to building up my own ego by competing with others and tearing them down?

In closing, he said, “I think gossip, the rabbis are telling us, is one of the chief ways we can check in with ourselves to see where we are – comparing ourselves only to our better selves, finding ways to lift other people without looking to gain personally, using praise only when talking about God, and to act as an anav.”

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

Tag: Limmud Winnipeg

Respecting minority opinions

What’s wrong with gossip?