Posts Tagged 'Halakha'



Untying the knot: Rethinking the Israeli Rabbinate’s Laws on Marriage

"Safa Ahat Udvarim Ahadim: Iyyunim Bemishpat Vehevra" ("One Language and One Set of Words – Studies in Law, Halachah and Society"), by Pinhas Shifman. Shalom Hartman Institute, Bar-Ilan University and Keter Publishing House, 336 pages

book coverAt the beginning of his (failed) campaign for the position of the next Ashkenazi chief rabbi, Rabbi David Stav published a large paid advertisement in the national-religious daily Makor Rishon. In it, he cited some "shocking facts," as he put it: In recent years, about one-third of all secular couples got married abroad so as not to come in contact with the Chief Rabbinate of Israel. Among them are people who do not accept or do not like the rabbinate’s marriage procedures, and also members of quite a large group of citizens (about 400,000 ) who are not allowed by law to marry in this country, as the Jewish bona fides of at least one member of the couple are questionable in the eyes of the rabbinate.

Forcing certain procedures based on Halakha (traditional Jewish law ) upon the citizens of Israel is therefore ineffective in two respects: It distances Jews who for various reasons are interested in a civil or different type of religious ceremony, and it is not available to citizens whom the rabbinate does not recognize as Jews. On the other hand, there is concern among the religious authorities that various types of civil marriage agreements will lead to a split among the Jewish population, as the religiously observant will not be prepared to enter into marriages with nonobservant Jews or their descendants.

In his new book, Pinhas Shifman attempts to suggest solutions to this complex situation. Shifman, a professor emeritus at the Hebrew University faculty of law, has written numerous books and articles about family law in Israel. A special report he prepared (together with Avishalom Westreich ) for the Metzilah Center for Zionist, Jewish, Liberal and Humanist Thought on the issue of the possibility of civil marriage in the country was, for example, published (in Hebrew ) in March. He is, therefore, exactly the right person to confront this subject.

In the second part of the book in question, Shifman goes into what could be called the "intra-religious" issue because, in his opinion, it is necessary to deal with the difficult problems created vis-a-vis the wedding ceremony due to Orthodox Halakha. Even if secular Israeli Jews are given the opportunity to marry as they see fit, the religiously observant will still have a problem because they have no other options because of their beliefs. Shifman fears that enabling civil marriage would in fact encourage rabbis and rabbinical court judges to ignore the moral difficulties inherent in the halakhic wedding ceremony as it stands today – that is, "anyone who doesn’t want to [get married this way] doesn’t have to and anyone who sees himself as obligated [to do so] can suffer in silence."

Not Just a Civic Matter

Specifically, Shifman is worried about this tendency because it leaves in place certain injustices that exist in Halakha. Issues like agunot (wives whose husbands will not grant them a get, or bill of divorce ), extortion on the part of husbands in delaying the get, and in general the inequity in traditional Jewish marriage rituals which are being ignored and remain unresolved. Even among poskim (rabbinical arbiters ) who are actually concerned about agunot and other women who suffer ill treatment by their husbands – dealing with such problems for the most part boils down to attempts to circumvent them by finding flaws in the particular ceremony from the halakhic perspective and nullifying it retrospectively.

Such ploys demonstrate the problematic nature of the Orthodox marriage ceremony, which turns out to be a stumbling block for the Jewish woman. This is a terrible reality, in the author’s opinion, because it leads to the conclusion that "the more people refrain from behaving in accordance with Halakha, the better off they will be and the less they will suffer." When Shifman moves on to various suggestions for changing nuptial arrangements for couples, he tries to take into account not only the suffering of secular Jews who are subjected to religious laws in which they have no interest, but also the pain of men and women who are religiously observant and are subjected to a rabbinical law in which they are interested, but which is also characterized by a cruel and insulting lack of justice.

The Possible Solutions

He brings up various possibilities for altering the existing situation, each with its own inherent problems. In addition to the most meager of the possibilities, which would in general permit marriages only between two people who are not presently allowed to marry each other under Halakha – Shifman examines the possibility of allowing civil marriage alongside marriage as per religious law, so that each couple would be able to decide in which manner, via which establishment, they want to seal their marital covenant. The disadvantage would be open competition between these two establishments, which is liable to lead to alienation on the part of the religious public. Moreover, this approach would exacerbate the problem of agunot and women whose receipt of a get is being delayed, since religiously observant couples who marry under the auspices of the rabbinate would be subject to Halakha and thus not be able to seek help from the civil court.

Another possibility Shifman mentions, which prevails in some European countries, is a uniform civil law for everyone. In this case the state is perceived as responsible for proper civic order and marriage by means of state authorities is the only valid marriage. Citizens who are interested in marrying in a special ceremony are respected and are married by, for example, their rabbi, minister, spiritual leader etc. In a situation like this, ostensibly there is no competition between civil and religious law, and divorce is also egalitarian because even religious women are in general protected by the state.

The Malicious Combination of Halakha and Bureaucracy

If a woman who has been married in a Halakhic ceremony gets divorced only via a civil procedure and then remarries – her children from her latest marriage become mamzerim (or, bastards; in Halakha, that is what a child is called who is born to a woman who is still married ac cording to religious law, and fathered by another man who is not her husband ). This possibility might precipitate the usual threat by Orthodox Jewry to construct lists (or "family trees" ) of names, in order to ensure that all those who marry by civil law and their descendants would be prohibited from marrying anyone who is religiously observant.

However, Shifman notes that even today millions of nonreligious Jews in the United States, for example, choose to marry according to civil law and, of course, also divorce that way, and no one is talking about shunning all American Jews – i.e., not marrying them. In the author’s opinion, this problem, like others, requires "broad emendation of regulations in Halakha that will provide a universal and principled solution." And once again he criticizes the lack of interest on the part of today’s halakhic arbiters in investigating thoroughly and eventually changing what needs to be changed in traditional Jewish law.

The matter of bastardy demonstrates a problem unique to our times, which has not been accorded a solution by that law. In the past, a Jew suspected of bastardy, or an aguna or a woman whose bill of divorcement is being delayed, could possibly, in their distress, move to another Jewish community where nobody knew them and build a new life. But our era, in which when everything is registered, documented and computerized, does not allow for reasonable doubt as to an individual’s identity, doubt that in other periods sufficed to qualify a person for marriage (from "a family that has been accepted … is accepted," Tractate Kiddushin 70-A ).

Rabbi Joseph di Trani (1538-1639 ), known as the Maharit, also ruled to the effect that, "Anyone who knows of a flaw [vis-a-vis] someone’s marital eligability is not permitted to reveal it, but will leave it as if it were kosher." This points to the malicious combination of Halakha and bureaucracy that is unique to the modern era.

Nor does Shifman spare criticism when it comes to secular Israeli Jews who seek to institutionalize civil marriage. His treatment of court rulings that equate single-sex couple relationships to marriage is fascinating, and dwells on the question of the secular insistence on using the term "marriage," which he says expresses a definite religious and traditional institution, while attempting to foment a radical change – via the courts – in its original meaning.

Morality, Religious and Natural

Finally, Shifman examines local rulings that have led to equating the rights of common-law partners to those of married people. He discusses in detail three rulings by former Supreme Court President Aharon Barak, who, in a sophisticated way helped to wage a quiet revolution with respect to personal status in Israeli law. Thanks to his efforts, the court recognized and legitimized marriages undertaken by Israeli citizens abroad – initially with respect to couples who in any case could have married in the country, and subsequently with respect to couples who could not have married here legally (one case involved a Jewish man who married a Christian woman ) – and finally marriages involving single-sex couples. In this way marriage abroad finally became the semi-official (if expensive ) way of entering into a civil marriage in Israel.

The first part of Shifman’s book deals with an artificial distinction between Halakha and morality, based on the idea that God’s commandments should be the sole basis for understanding what is good and what is evil, and any consideration external to Halakha constitutes a surrender to the liberal fashions of our times. The clinging to a specific religious precept, even if it may be illogical or in direct contradiction to one’s conscience, is considered by the believer to be a courageous effort to abide by the word of God and creates the desired experience of "authenticity." But Shifman shows that such a perception itself quite a new phenomenon and its primary framer in Israel was none other than the late Prof. Yeshayahu Leibowitz (and in the United States, Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik ). He reminds readers that without an independent sense of morality, which is not connected to Halakha per se, lofty concepts of the sages like lifnim meshurat hadin (beyond the letter of the law ), derekh eretz (common courtesy ) and darkei shalom ([toward] a peaceful way ) become meaningless.

The same holds for the concept of naval bereshut hatorah (roughly, "a Torah pedant but a scoundrel" ), attributed to Nachmanides in the 13th century, and comments by Rabbi Naphtali Zevi Judah Berlin (1817-1893 ) condemning "righteous men and hasids" who are not "honest in the ways of the world." The halakhic tradition itself is full of examples of the influence of natural morality on the law.

Shifman criticizes Leibowitz’s approach, which aims to protect the primacy of Halakha by disengaging its precepts from the daily, transient world, that also disconnects it from reason and the heart. According to Shifman, this approach has trickled down, in fact, into the ranks of Gush Emunim (the religious movement for settlement in the territories ), Leibowitz’s major ideological rivals: Shifman quotes remarks by settler Rabbi Shlomo Aviner that purport to be based on the views of Rabbi Abraham Isaac Hacohen Kook (1865-1935 ), but are really very similar to those of Leibowitz. In fact, it was Kook who said fear of heaven that ignores natural morality "is no longer pure fear of heaven."

Shifman’s criticism is also rooted in principle since it holds that "the existing richness of a plethora of sources and opinions in Halakha sharpens even further the conclusion that it is impossible to imagine a ruling in which the arbiter discounts the personal element – that is, a ruling that is not affected by the arbiter’s own value judgment."

In other words, there is no rabbinical law that is not born out of a certain moral position. From within this insight Shifman attacks the imperviousness of many rabbis toward women who are unable to receive a get, people who are deemed bastards and other individuals whose "credentials" as Jews are in question. He accuses such authorities of doing nothing, and writes: "A claim that a rabbinical sage is unable to be of help because it is not within his reach is very often a political decision in disguise that allows him to avoid dealing with the difficult questions of values underlying that decision."

Shifman’s book is a sharp indictment of the dissembling sanctimony of the Orthodox rabbis of our day and the fact that they cling to so-called Halakha as an excuse for standing still and stagnating. It’s not that they can’t do anything, they simply don’t want to. It’s not a matter of impotence, but rather a values-based stance. In a reality in which many couples shun the offices of the rabbinate, Shifman’s book is timely. His treatment of issues in family law in Israel is learned and profound, and his criticism of the situation of rabbinical rulings in our day, criticism that comes from within the world of Torah and Halakha, is sharp and precise. The associates of the new chief rabbi who will be selected in a few months’ time would do well to bring Shifman’s book as a gift on the occasion of his appointment.

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Published in Haaretz on 29.3.13

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Body and Sexuality in the New Religious Zionist Discourse – About the book

Guf U’miniut Ba’Siach Ha’Tzioni-Ha’Dati He’Hadash ("Body and Sexuality in the New Religious Zionist Discourse") by Yakir Englander and Avi Sagi, Hartman Institute and Keter Publishing, 2013, 267 pp.

 

In the waning years of the 19th century, Austrian psychiatrist Richard von Krafft-Ebbing wrote in his Textbook of Insanity that

[Sexual] anomalies are very important elementary disturbances, since upon the nature of sexual sensibility the mental individuality in greater part depends; especially does it affect ethic, aesthetic, and social feeling and action.

Krafft-Ebbing thus expressed a new understanding: our sexual desires were no longer solely natural expressions of the body, certainly not wicked agents of the devil. Instead, they became basic pillars of our personality ¬ that is, of modern human individuality.

In discussing "The Body and Sexuality in the New Religious Zionist Discourse" it must be remembered, therefore, that sexuality itself is a modern category, which became popular in 19th-century Europe, when it became a definition not only for practices but also of personality. Accordingly, the term "sexuality" was now given various prefixes like "hetero-," "homo-," "auto-". Nowadays it is important to look at the broad scope of the literature intended to help bring about improvement in our sexual lives, a literature that started to become widely available in the 1960s. If our sexual pleasure is such a central part of ourselves, improving it, as a central part of our self-improvement project, seems also to be obvious.

The new book by Prof. Avi Sagi and Dr. Yakir Englander is very aware of this historical background, and it tries to focus upon and characterize the current historical moment experienced by the religious Zionist public. It is successful in doing so on a number of levels and it provides important reference points for any future discussion on the subject.

As a field of research, Sagi and Englander have focused on the discourse in terms of Halakhah (traditional religious law), especially as it appears on responsa sites on the Internet. This is a public discourse by its very nature, as its rulings are presumed to reach every observer of rabbinical law and to shape their conduct. Thus they are also intended to create a homogenous "public" of a God-fearing community.

The authors have chosen to examine various models in which it is possible to find direct conflicts between the modern and the halakhic perceptions of sexuality. They have specifically examined the issues of male and female masturbation and homosexuality. The analysis they propose vis-a-vis the discourse in Halakha concerning the prohibition of male masturbation is fascinating.

the book coverThe authors bring evidence that the responsa are no longer truly halakhic in nature and have instead taken on the character of "pastoral counseling" – i.e., of spiritual guidance intended to shepherd individuals from the flock of the devout toward inner repair and spiritual perfection. This is an entirely different genre of dialogue, as the rabbi here comes across not as an arbiter of Halakha, but rather as a guide to the inner psyche, who offers an ethical path, the purpose of which is redemption of the soul.

While in premodern times it was possible to find within Halakha a formal discourse that ruled in accordance with an interpretation of tradition, the authors find that today the invocation of Halakha is marginal, and that most discussion of the question of male masturbation is in the realm of values and ethics. Thus, for example, rabbis endeavor to console the questioner who has failed and sinned, to strengthen his spirit,

imbue him with motivation to overcome his urges and present him with the choice between courageous resistance to Western trends and loyalty to what they perceive as "the tradition of ancestral Israel" which commands abstinence from self-pleasure.

The rabbi presents himself as a meta-figure with respect to Halakha, speaking in the name of a Jewish metaphysic that is not formulated with traditional tools, but rather is assumed to be in "the spirit of Halakha." He is no longer an arbiter of the legal canon, but rather a spiritual guide who knows the true path to redemption of the soul. The sinner’s confession, which is central to this discourse, is answered by rabbinical counsel, and the point to which the discourse relates shifts from the forbidden deed (masturbation), to forbidden passion and forbidden emotion (sexual craving, despair).

In so doing, the rabbis of religious Zionism, Sagi and Englander stress, are accepting the assumptions behind modern individuality. They espouse spiritual guidance that is aimed first and foremost not at maintaining divine law, but rather at redemption of the self, rectification and achievement of personal perfection and satisfaction. Accordingly, modern "sexuality" discourse also has become for the rabbis a theological starting point, and sexuality is understood as a constitutive element of an individual’s identity. Thus, prohibitions rooted in halakhic tradition exceed their formal status and become tremendous obstacles along the individual’s path to creating an ideal ("Torah-observant" or "believing") self-identity.

The modern perception of sexuality is also reflected in the stance toward homosexuality. Since the sexual act has essentially become a sexual identity, the arbiters of Halakha face three possibilities: a) to grapple with established legal tradition and permit whatever is possible in that framework (in the case of lesbianism, this is much easier); b) to change the Jewish attitude toward sexual abstinence and enjoin persons with these tendencies to abstain from sex all their lives; and c) to argue that homosexual tendencies are not natural and can be rectified and changed.

In accordance with the pastoral discourse that has replaced halakhic discourse, the authors of the book in question offer a wealth of rulings instructing men and women with same-sex tendencies, who are seeking advice, to change or abstain from sexual relations. Here too the discussion moves from Halakha to meta-Halakha, in the direction of fomenting an ethical discourse that shapes a new, pure Jew.

The perception of sexuality as raw material used in creating the religious self is also manifested in rabbinical discussion surrounding the issue of female masturbation.

In contrast to strictures relating to men in this regard, there is no express Halakhic prohibition on female masturbation Halakha. As one might have expected, Sagi and Englander find pastoral discourse on this subject too. The discourse here directs women toward a certain type of sexuality that from the rabbis’ perspective, even if not according to Halakha(!), is kosher and positive.

Following this, they go on to examine the aggregate of the perceptions of female sexuality in the new religious Zionist discourse. Their main insight is that there is no real connection between the image of the women about whom the rabbinical arbiters speak and women as living beings walking upon the face of the earth. The book presents various rulings indicating that, in the eyes of the arbiters, a woman has a fixed and simple essence: She is an introverted, passive, delicate and sensitive creature, whose sexual passion is dependent on emotion and love.

Thus, for example, there is a perception that women are not sexually aroused upon seeing an exposed male body, and therefore men are not required to cover themselves for the sake of "modesty." Even when the women who send in questions to the Internet sites inform the rabbis that they too have urges and desires, the rabbis silence them and insist that they do not, that there is in actual fact no such thing.

As Sagi and Englander write, the arbiters talk about women, not with them. This whole issue leads the authors to emphasize the male hegemony in the realm of rabbinical rulings. Ostensibly, this is obvious and self-evident, but this book stresses the alienation deriving from the fact that only men deliberate about Halakha. This creates a contradiction between the real woman and the ideal woman; the real woman is negated or else required to undergo a transformative journey to become that imaginary ideal.

Once again, pastoral discourse constitutes an arena in which the woman who observes Halakha must grapple with her image and aspirations. (In this context mention should be made of the religious Zionist organization Beit Hillel, which is promoting women – though at present tentatively and in a minor way – as rabbinical arbiters. Reading this book could contribute to an understanding of the challenges involved in this move, as well as of the huge promise inherent in it.)

The new sexuality discourse reveals the way religious Zionism is dealing with modernity at the present time. The authors take care to emphasize and exemplify the fact that there is nothing deterministic in the way this discussion has crystallized: A very different discourse could quite easily have developed, one that uses formal halakhic strictures to make it easier for the religiously observant to deal with modern sexuality.

"The Body and Sexuality in the New Religious Zionist Discourse" is full of insight, but the editing is inadequate and it is possible that readers will get lost in a maze of quotations and footnotes. It is evident that the work benefits greatly from the voice of Avi Sagi, one of the most profound thinkers in contemporary Judaism. The reader will findmany diagnoses that are fully developed in Sagi’s other books, while here they illuminate the research details and emphasize their importance.

The authors conclude with an expression of concern about the future. While Religious Zionism developed primarily with an inclusive view toward modernity, it has not succeeded in developing a halakhic discourse that has responded to its challenges. Instead, part of religious Zionish has been retreating and shutting itself up behind ideals that are divorced from reality:

In this way a historic movement, which had perceived itself as a mediating agent within Israeli society […] has developed antibodies to this mediation. The sting of this process is manifested first and foremost against itself; against the real body and sexuality, and against real women and men.

We can only hope that the other parts of religious Zionism will have the sense to embrace reality, and never let go.

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Published in Hebrew in Haaretz, 7.8.13

How real is your pain, Rabbi David Stav?

Last Friday, Haaretz Magazine published a  short interview with Rabbi David Stav, entitled “The salesman of Judaism,” by Ayelett Shani. That interview was one of several which Stav has given recently − all as part of a public campaign aimed at helping him get elected as Israel’s next Ashkenazi chief rabbi. Perhaps this is an appropriate way for a person who has a good chance of becoming the next chief rabbi to introduce himself to his flock: the men and women over whose marital lives ‏(and, no less important, divorces‏) he will soon preside.

The interviews have been quite informative about the rabbi’s religious character. To try to get a handle on him, I would like to talk about three key words that he uses in particular.

Halakha: On two occasions in the interview, Stav asserts his unequivocal loyalty to traditional Jewish law. He said, “In regard to halakha, I do not intend to compromise in any way,” in connection with his opposition to civil marriage. In reply to a question about the price he would be prepared to pay to draw secular people closer to the Rabbinate, he stated, “I will not deviate from the halakha as it was accepted by our forefathers − neither to the right nor to the left.”

Surely it would be difficult to come out with a clearer formulation than this.

However, the problem does not lie in the formulation. The problem is that halakha is completely unconnected to the issue of civil marriage. After all, no one is asking the rabbi to exceed the boundaries of halakha as he understands it. No one is asking him to annul religious marriages for whoever wants them. What is being asked about is allowing registration of civil marriage for those who do not want a religious ceremony. All that is being asked of him is not to force those boundaries on all of Israel’s Jewish citizens.

Does the Orthodox halakha prohibit the registration of a spousal relationship through the state’s civil authorities, or even through a private contract rather than via the Chief Rabbinate? Of course not. Halakha does not even recognize the institution of the Chief Rabbinate, because the ancient arbiters could not conceive of a bureaucratic mechanism of rabbis being foisted upon the public under the aegis of the bureaucratic power of a modern state. Indeed, there are Orthodox rabbis who absolutely believe that civil marriage should be allowed. None of them, of course, thinks he is in violation of halakha.

In our time, halakha is often used as a code word whose meaning for secular people is “I cannot,” whereas its real interpretation, for the religious speaker of the word, is “I don’t want to.” There is no halakhic obstacle to civil marriage. The obstacle lies solely in the worldview of Stav, which, let it be said to his credit, he declares openly.

In another interview ‏(to this writer‏), Stav explained that he is fearful of a scenario in which over a million “people who require proof of their Judaism” ‏(in his words‏) will not be obliged to pass through the gates of the Rabbinate and prove their Judaism in order to marry. That whole huge mass of people will wander freely through the country with their ethnic status unclear, at least as far as Stav is concerned. That is a legitimate issue in itself, but it has no direct connection to halakha.

Pain: Twice in the interview, Stav admits that he is pained. When Ayelett Shani asks him about the habit of some secular brides to lie about the date of their menstrual cycle, so that the Rabbinate clerks will not force them to change their wedding date ‏(so as to prevent a wedding from taking place during niddah, when the bride has her period, which to secular women makes no difference and is permitted halakhically‏), Stav replies that he is “deeply pained by this.” When Shani asks him about the fact that homosexuals cannot marry in Israel, he replies that he “will be hurting together with [them].”

Sensitivity is a fine quality, and sensitivity to the pain of others is noble. Just as he will feel the pain of the lies told by secular brides and the pain of the homosexuals who cannot marry, Stav will also feel the pain of the thousands of agunot ‏(women who have been abandoned by their husbands or whose husbands will not grant them a divorce‏), who are unable to remarry or have children. He will also feel the pain of tens of thousands of secular and religiously observant couples who want a wedding ceremony that is more egalitarian. He will have to reject all of these people, though he will definitely share their pain and hurt.

I don’t think there is any reason to be worried about Rabbi Stav. His pain is not overly deep. It is a pain that floats lightly over a great deal of personal satisfaction and gratification. This stems from the fact that Stav, from his point of view, has defended halakha and the unity of the nation. He has affirmed his piety, even if at the expense of others. He did not deviate from what God charged him to do, neither to the right nor to the left. His ticket to paradise wasn’t even wrinkled.

Of course, if the Rabbinate did not force Israel’s Jewish citizens to marry through it, the pain of the secular brides and the pain of homosexuals would be prevented, and possibly also the pain of the agunot and the pain of those who want a different marriage ceremony. But that would be contrary to Stav’s outlook. He is not ready for that. What is he ready for? He is ready to be sympathetic.

Love: “Just as I cannot fight against the Lord, who allowed someone to be killed in an accident, I also cannot help in the halakhic sense. The only thing I can do is to love,” Stav says. He apparently sees halakha as a fateful decree − like an accident. Some would say that, as a rabbi, his task is actually to find ways to ease people’s halakhic distress.However, Stav appears to belong to a school of thought which holds that halakha is a kind of unavoidable situation that people get into, an automatic mechanism that “hurts” and grieves us, for which we need consolation after experiencing it, along the lines of: “Doctor, what’s the problem?” “Sorry, but you have halakha.” Still, Stav is ready to love those who have this problem. It hurts him as much as it hurts them.

Halakha can be an ethical and religious structure in the framework of which the individual enters into a covenant with God and worships him. But I believe it becomes a problem the moment it is forced on the individual. It also loses all religious value in that case. This is exactly the difference between accepting the burden of the precepts and religious coercion. Love in this case will not override the moral wrong and the religious vacuity it reflects.

Beyond this, we need to ask whether a situation in which the Jewish religion or the Jewish people can survive only if the halakha forces itself on Israel’s Jewish citizens is a reasonable state of affairs, or is theologically or ethically proper.

If the Rabbinate were not an institution which is forced on all of Israel’s Jewish citizens, there would be no need to offer consolation to anyone. Who knows? Maybe if the Rabbinate does not receive so much power from civil law, halakhic problems will be more quickly resolved. For in that case, the rabbis, like rabbis in Jewish communities throughout the generations that preceded Israel’s establishment, will have to adapt themselves to the demands of the public. But in the meantime, as a powerful monopoly, the Rabbinate has no interest in making things more difficult for itself. Its interest lies in making things difficult for the public.

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This piece was originally published in Hebrew at the current affairs, culture and society online magazine http://www.compress.co.il, edited by Aviad Kleinberg. It was later published in Haaretz, 28.2.13.


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