KJ, Jerusalem and Yavneh

By ADAM S. FERZIGER
From the Jerusalem Post, 08/08/2011 23:54

Witnessing a Jewish sanctuary like KJ ablaze raises associations with the destruction of the temples in Jerusalem, about which Lamentations cries, “…a fire was kindled in Zion and consumed her foundations.”

For those like me whose lives and outlooks were influenced by their early encounters with Manhattan’s venerable Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun (KJ) and the Ramaz School it sponsors, the July 11 fire that ravaged its monumental synagogue brought profound sadness. The vivid images of flames spewing from the familiar façade evoked a sense of mourning only deepened by Tisha Be-av’s focus on devastation.

Yet this reaction was soon hedged with pride at the heartening actions of the KJ/Ramaz leadership, with Rabbi Haskel Lookstein setting the tone.

As a historian who has chronicled the KJ’s 126-year history and its central place within the evolution of American Modern Orthodoxy, I could not help but consider the damage to the beautiful house of worship in symbolic terms. The vision of KJ covered in flames offers a provocative metaphor for the decline of a distinctive type of Modern Orthodox synagogue.

Aware as I am of the rawness of the traumatic events, I hope these reflections will not be viewed as callous. I offer them, rather, in the spirit of Rabbi Lookstein’s charge at the prayer service following the fire to “look ahead,” for “out of the ashes of destruction can come the seeds of reconstruction.”

KJ gained prominence in the early twentieth century as a pathbreaking religious institution dedicated to rejuvenating American Orthodoxy when many foresaw its demise. Masses of immigrants and their offspring were becoming alienated from the ways of their ancestors. KJ fostered a fresh atmosphere that attracted these proud new Americans – some who adhered to Jewish law and others who were less meticulous. It did so by hiring college-educated rabbis who delivered relevant messages in non-accented English; by pioneering a day school that drew both observant and nonobservant parents unwilling to compromise on their children’s secular educations; and by nurturing a service that was, in the words of the driving force in this renaissance, Rabbi Joseph Lookstein (1902-1979): “as dignified as the most Reform and as pious as the worship in a shteibbel.”

From the 1970s, his son Rabbi Haskel Lookstein extended this vision of Orthodoxy with a wide range of Jews by making public activism for Soviet Jewry integral to synagogue life.

Navigating between doctrinal discipline and openness, personal piety and acceptance of others, was a daunting task. But these tensions were also abundant sources of positive energy that engendered creativity and a sense of mission.

Indeed, by 1965 the prominent scholar Charles Liebman pronounced: “The only remaining vestige of Jewish passion in America resides in the Orthodox community… which today contains within it a strength and will to live that may yet nourish all the Jewish world.”

Orthodox passion has persisted in the past half century. But among the synagogues that profess allegiance to a Modern Orthodox outlook, few still attract a wide cross-section of Jews. On the contrary, they are increasingly enclaves whose members stem almost exclusively from observant families. Those who grew up together, attending the same schools, camps and Israel programs fit in, while those from divergent backgrounds encounter less congenial surroundings. Some may see here positive evidence of Modern Orthodoxy’s successful rise to a robust community of the faithful. Alternatively, one of its profound contributions to American Jewish life has been undermined by a self-serving impulse.

IN THE past decade, numerous initiatives have arisen that counterbalance the so-called “slide to the right” or “haredization” of American Orthodoxy documented by scholars. Moreover, the programming offered by mainstream Modern Orthodox synagogues continues to reflect their Jewishly educated and intellectually open characters.

Notwithstanding, in its social sphere, the Modern Orthodox synagogue has moved closer to the dominant American haredi stance, whose emphasis on uniform lifestyle is often coupled with minimal tolerance for personal diversity.

Ironically, while the Modern Orthodox have abandoned their socially varied roots, the more selfassured haredim have progressively advanced initiatives such as community kollels and outreach congregations. Yet the types of inclusive Orthodox synagogues in which an eclectic range of Jews can feel a sense of partnership are disappearing – especially in areas where more homogeneous congregations are sustainable.

Witnessing a Jewish sanctuary like KJ ablaze raises associations with the destruction of the temples in Jerusalem, about which Lamentations cries, “…a fire was kindled in Zion and consumed her foundations.” The initial physical decimation came to represent the decline of the Holy City . Yet Rabbi Lookstein’s emphasis on restoration also elicits thoughts of another ancient setting that figures vitally into the traumatic period surrounding the decimation of the Second Temple. The Talmuddescribes Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai entreating the Roman emperor on the eve of the destruction: Ten li Yavneh ve-hakhamehah! – allow the town of Yavneh and its scholars to survive. By ensuring a foundation for Jewish fidelity, this sage came to represent the prototype Jewish leader who “looks forward,” planting seeds of continuity and rebirth even amid ruin and debris.

Under the dynamic stewardship of Rabbi Lookstein, KJ’s physical rebuilding will undoubtedly be accompanied by efforts to shore up the community’s core principles, and possibly re-frame them in ways that respond to changing circumstances.

But can the image of Kehilath Jeshurun immersed in flames rouse others? In the spirit of Yavneh, may this terrible episode stimulate fresh thinking as to how Modern Orthodox synagogues can once again epitomize sanctuaries in which all Jews feel welcome.

(The writer is senior lecturer and vice chairman, Graduate Program in Contemporary Jewry at Bar-Ilan University.

He authored Exclusion and Hierarchy: Orthodoxy, Nonobservance, and the Emergence of Modern Jewish Identity.)

As I sat with my husband on the night of July 11^th, the atmosphere was astonishingly silenced by the news that the congregation we call “ours” was burning in a serious fire. It was unbelievable, and as we began to believe it was real, the pain struck us.

Relieved to know that, thank G-d,  no one, and no Sefer Torah were in the building, we still couldn’t manage to refute sorrow.  It’s hard to say it was only a building. It was a piece of architectural art in our neighborhood, but much more than that, it was a vessel for holiness among the Jews who call the synagogue “theirs.”

On my personal search for Teshuva, for my soul’s return to its true essence, I vividly remember my first phone call to KJ. I was timid, and really just wanted a Rabbi’s e-mail to write him about my quest. The lady on the other side of the line insisted that the Rabbi would promptly take my call. In a matter of hours, I was facing Rabbi Weinstock for what would be the biggest transformation of my life. Needless to say, he was warm, unassuming, and thorough in my reception into the Shul.
From that moment on,  and as I became more involved with the community through services, events, and classes, I can say that KJ and its Rabbis have been directly responsible for my initial and continual Jewish education, character refinement, and a healthy approach to live a committed Orthodox Jewish life.

There’s much to be said about the community.  As a newcomer, unsure of what my next step would be, I was embraced by support, friendship, and a genuine concern about my physical and spiritual well-being.

Seven months ago, as my now husband and I looked for a venue to hold our wedding, the decision was easy. We wanted to get married at KJ’s exquisite sanctuary, where everything actually started.  Immediately upon my engagement, once again, much support came from the community. From Kallah classes to wedding planning, KJ community helped me not get lost under bridal pressures and expectations, especially when my immediate family lives in a different continent!
Please G-d, may this be one of the many more stories to come which will be highlighted by KJ.

The building has been heavily damaged, but I never doubt for a single moment of its reconstruction.  G-d has blessed our community tremendously, and He will continue to bless us so we can speedily rebuild the premises in which much holiness has taken place,  and is yet to take place.
I can’t wait for it!!

– Esther

When I first walked into KJ on my first Shabbat in America, (a week after I arrived with my family from Hungary in 1957), I was in total awe. I had never been in such a gorgeous synagogue before and never after. The physical beauty of course caught my eyes at first, but as time went on, it was everything about the Shul. I loved Rabbi Joseph Lookstein’s (ZL) most eloquent sermons. I would listen to him with all my attention and take it all in. So did my parents and my late husband, Willy. Of course after my children started RAMAZ, The Shul and the school became one for me. As I had stated in my interview with the Times after the fire, KJ has been the center of my life, the center of my happiness and my sadness.

I get the biggest smile on my face when I think back to our beautiful Bar and Bat Mitzvahs in the KJ sanctuary. Each time it was so festive and so special! Rabbi Haskel’s beautiful, so artistically molded, very personal addresses to my children (and to all children standing tall in front of him ) moved us beyond words. And how about each very special Zimria throughout the years with Rabbi Haskel claiming each time that that particular one was “the most special” one that he could remember. How much fun have we had participating as parents and for a number of years as grandparents?

Of course the graduations of my children and several of my grandchildren have been most remarkable. I know that probably everyone in their community feels quite attached, but this is my “unbiased” opinion. I never feel as comfortable in any Shul (even in Israel, where I just love being) as in KJ. Why? What is so special? The way we daven, the centrist path that our Rabbi has been leading us on and the way our community has coalesced throughout the years. I must admit that when I was very young in the first 18 years, KJ was a more rigid place even though I loved it. With Rabbi Haskel’s leadership and all the young people pouring into our community, it has become a very warm, modern Orthodox, vibrant community. We have many more observant families, but the greatest part of it all is that KJ has been open to everyone from all walks of life and religious convictions. I have known so many families which have become observant because of our Shul and our Rabbi.

I am suddenly thinking back of all the fun Sundays at Father and son minyans where Eugene and Yankie loved playing ball and having hot chocolate. (I volunteered many times to make the hot chocolate!) Those were very special times! So were the many Shabbatons that I was so happy to put together! I loved when the little kids came into the Shul at the end of the service and their sweet voices were heard as they sang in unison.

I also recall how much Willy enjoyed Mr. Rosenberg’s Tanya shiurim, as well as others. Thank g-d this was passed down to my children. These days the Shul is brimming with adult education programming.

It has also been incredible to be part of a community which has a leadership role in Jewish life as well as in the forefront in getting Jews out of the former Soviet Union (countless marches we were part of with our Rabbi leading it to the United Nations and so many prayer services we have had inside KJ and out side for all the various causes…) We were the first Shul which had the incredibly successful Midrochov during the Intifada, where I had tears in my eyes to see merchants from Israel whom I had known, sell in one day more than they had sold in a year.

So what else does KJ mean to me? My Zionist feelings from home got only further enhanced and punctuated by the special prayers we have had for Gilad Shalit and all the other (even way back we had Natan Sharansky’s picture, etc. on the pulpit) special Jewish heroes, who have fought for us defending our Homeland.

There is just so much to say. I am overwhelmed with emotions. I cannot ever forget my saddest day when we had the most special funeral in our sanctuary for Willy.   Rabbi Haskel named the Shiurim we had had in our home Wednesday evenings the Dr. William Major Lecture Series (which we continued to have for seven years in our home)

When the fire erupted, I was (as so many people) devastated and weeping from the terrible news. I felt my pain, Rabbi Haskel’s and our community’s pain. Walking down the avenue and seeing what we see, is very difficult. But thank G-d no one got hurt and every day, as I read and hear more, I get comfort and consolation from the knowledge that we have an incredible community thank g-d. With g-d’s help , though we will face a very difficult time ahead, we shall overcome the turbulence of these times and we will get stronger and stronger.

– Gabriella

Friday, July 22, 2011
Steven Schacter Special to The Jewish Week

This is a time of year when Jews are expected to think back and lament the flames that ravaged its two holy temples in Jerusalem. The three weeks that began on July 19th, the 17th of Tamuz, and will culminate on the 9th of Av, mark the period between the breaching of the city walls of Jerusalem and the ultimate destruction of the Temple.

One might expect that this period would have particular resonance for me this year as I think about the recent four-alarm fire that ravaged Kehilath Jeshurun in Manhattan–the synagogue that my family has been a part of for over a hundred years, the synagogue in which my daughters sat on countless holidays alongside their mother, their grandmother and their great grandmother, the synagogue in which two of my grandsons had their brises (circumcision), where my daughters and five granddaughters were named, where my bar mitzvah was celebrated, where my parents and grandparents were married, and where my uncle, my grandfather and my great-great grandfather served as rabbis.

And yet, as I think about the fire that shook our community to its core, my overwhelming emotion, beyond the grief of seeing a 110-year-old landmark with so many memories rendered unusable for at least 1 to 2 years, is pride.

Ours is a unique community. . .  MORE

Posted by Our Town on July 20, 2011 ·

By Megan Finnegan

On a hot, sunny day earlier this week outside the Ramaz Middle School on East 85th Street, workers sifted through the charred remnants of a synagogue. Men in hard hats with the FDNY’s Arson and Explosives Division and the Fire Marshall were clearing debris from the four-alarm blaze that erupted on the roof of Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun’s synagogue last week.

Fire Marshall representatives at the scene declined to comment on their investigation—it’s still ongoing—but they are analyzing every piece of available evidence, pulling out what looked like charred electrical components from the garbage of burned wood and other materials, photographing and preserving chunks of blackened metal in plastic wrap. Black soot hovers in the air around the 110-year-old synagogue, which may be salvageable. It would have made for a completely depressing scene if it weren’t for the buoyant optimism of the people most affected by the fire’s destruction.

“This is sad, but there’s no loss of life. It’s a building that can be rebuilt,” said Rabbi Elie Weinstock…MORE

Rabbi Lookstein,

I wanted to add my support and well wishes to the many I am sure you have received after the fire at KJ.  While it was heartbreaking to see the building in which I graduated from high school, as well as the building in which I named my two boys suffer such damage, I was so happy to see how gracefully you and your administration handled such a difficult event.  I think it was a real kiddush hashem, and I am, as always, so honored to be a member of such an amazing community and institution.

All the best,

-Shaun