A few years ago, I attended a Torah-oriented conference that welcomed members of the Charedi community, men and women. During the event, a rabbi took the stage and half-jokingly remarked that we educate our young students not to think independently. An average Charedi young man thus lacks an independent position on current affairs.
As someone who grew up in the flourishing environment of Charedi education, I was offended by the sarcastic remark on behalf of all the young people I knew. I mustered the courage and pointed out, from my seat at the back of the hall, that “We do not educate our children not to think, but this is the price we pay for educating them to be obedient, committed to tradition, and respectful of Torah scholars.”
As I left the event, an elderly non-Charedi man with a small kippah perched on his white curls approached me and said, “What you said shook me.” With that, he walked away, leaving me to ponder his words.
While we were focused on Charedi-internal criticism, did he, his children having studied in a non-Charedi system, pay the price for overly encouraging them to heed their inner voices? Did his children betray the values of home, community, and tradition due to the lack of education in submission to the elder and wiser?
Between the two values, compliance with authority and personal autonomy, a deep tension resides. We mistakenly think that this concerns only us, members of Charedi society who educate for acceptance of the authority of the great Torah sages and demand adherence to the Torah system of Halacha. In reality, however, every parent faces the educational challenge of granting their child the freedom to reach new heights while ensuring they stay grounded in their roots. Yet, this issue takes on theological and ideological depth and demands increased commitment and obedience when formulated in Charedi terms.
There are no [legitimate] feelings that are not in accordance with Halacha
At the Maor HaTalmud Yeshiva, the mashgiach Rabbi Aharon Grossbard (who later became the mashgiach at Ponevezh Yeshiva) used to have a Chavruta partnership with one of the more talented students. The latter greatly appreciated the privilege of studying with the mashgiach and would rise in his honor every time he entered the beis midrash. The mashgiach would leave and return intermittently due to his responsibilities in managing yeshiva affairs, and each time, the student would loyally rise. At a certain point, the mashgiach remarked that standing up once a day is sufficient, to which the student replied that he was not rising because of a Halachic duty, but because of a deeply felt desire to honor his teacher and mentor. The mashgiach was unimpressed and responded immediately, “There are no [legitimate] feelings that are not in accordance with Halacha.”
This story conveys an idea that an entire Charedi generation has grown up with: In the conflict between listening to your inner voice and the demands of Halacha or Da’as Torah, the priority is clear. Listening to your inner self, meaningful as it might be, must align with what “Hashem your God requires of you” and not be subject to the arbitrary and deceptive whims of the heart.
In this article, I will try to demonstrate that despite the folk tales we grew up with about the need to silence inner voices, this demand, in its superficial formulation, is neither practical nor Torah-founded. Moreover, although the concept is not without historical precedent, its application never matched today’s expectations.
Good Boys and Girls
If the question in the article’s heading troubles you and you grapple with the balance between individual autonomy and compliance with rabbinic authority, you should know that you are “good children.” As I was, and still am—a good Bais Yaakov girl. The question does not occur to those children who sleep through lessons or possess natural filters on what they hear. Their choice to “do as the rabbi says” is not a matter of compliance but of personal decision. No social pressure burdens them with feelings of guilt and conscience.
What does a “good child” (now a “good adult”) do? Is he or she doomed not to think? Is it precisely this good and talented student, who achieves high grades and brings joy through all the gifts bestowed upon them by the Creator, who is fated to set intellect aside and refrain from using it for the problems encountered in daily life?
I mention boys and girls but cannot help mentioning my experience as a Bais Yaakov supervisor when I conducted training sessions for teachers on methods of improving reading comprehension. I explained how to properly read a Torah verse so that girls would be encouraged to ask the question that bothered Rashi through the intonation. One respected teacher responded firmly, “We do not educate girls to ask questions on the Torah!” I was taken aback by the situation that suddenly placed me in a controversial light and stammered, “What does that mean? This is how the Torah is learned! Boys also learn this way!” Her unhesitating reply sealed the discussion: “Boys, yes! Girls, no!”
She said, “If you had a beard, she would never have said that to you.”
I returned home shaken, and I recounted to my grandmother, Rebbetzin Sarah Rokover z”l (wife of the esteemed Dayan Baruch Rokover z”l), what had happened. She said, “If you had a beard, she would never have said that to you.” Her sober and painfully precise response grounded me and added another milestone to my awareness. The right to ask questions is not only for those who have or will have a beard. This is how we learn Torah. This is how we learn!
Unfortunately, this simple truth is often forgotten in the Charedi education system. It needs to be reiterated: this is how Torah is studied. This is how people learn to think. This is how intelligent people learn, men or women. They ask questions, present challenges, critique the words of their predecessors, and find answers and Torah innovations that satisfy their minds.
How does the demand for compliance with Torah authority reconcile with the longstanding tradition of Torah literature, questions and answers, debates, and interpretations stemming from various viewpoints and independent Torah thought?
“The Torah was not given to one incapable of understanding,” says the Ibn Ezra in the introduction to his commentary on the Torah. “Rational thinking is the foundation,” he declares, concluding with the words, “and the angel between man and his God is his intellect.” In a similar vein, Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin’s disciples interpret the words of the Mishnah in Pirkei Avot (1:4), “Let your house be a meeting place for the sages”:
And behold, learning is called ‘war,’ as stated in Sanhedrin (111b), ‘the war of Torah.’ Therefore, even Torah students are called warriors. As our sages said in Kiddushin 30b, “They shall not be put to shame when they speak with their enemies in the gate,” even a father and his son or a rabbi and his student who are engaged in Torah become enemies with each other due to the intensity of their studies. But they do not leave there until they love each other. It is thus forbidden for a student to accept his teacher’s words when he has difficulties with them, and sometimes the truth may be with the student, as a small stick of wood may kindle a larger one. This is what is meant by “Let your house be a meeting place for the sages.”[1]
Our intellect has been honed through years of studying Torah within Torah frameworks that compel us to think, evaluate, and apply our rationality. The question arises: how can we suddenly silence this intellect at a particular stage in life and demand that it not be heard? How does the demand for compliance with Torah authority reconcile with the longstanding tradition of Torah literature, questions and answers, debates, and interpretations stemming from various viewpoints and independent Torah thought?
Da’at Torah
The historical process that turned the requirement of “compliance with Da’at Torah” into a defining Charedi value has occupied academic researchers dedicated to studying Charedi society.[2] The term began to appear in rabbinic literature only at the end of the nineteenth century, and in the early twentieth century, it came to denote the concept of rabbinic authority, paralleling the development of Agudas Yisrael as a political party dedicated to defending the interests of Orthodox Jewry against the expanding influence of modernity.
Unlike other political movements, the Charedi political party placed at its head the greatest rabbis of that generation, “Gedolim” who are constantly and continuously engaged in the Torah. The “Council of Torah Sages” thus became an authoritative address for any inquiry, large or small, from purely halachic inquiries to communal and political issues. Their Torah perspective earned the supreme status of Da’at Torah, which saw them as the authentic and definitive voice of faithful Judaism. Moreover, the party itself became the authorized and agreed-upon representative of these great Torah leaders.
The source of this ideological authority to dictate public policy found its sharp formulation in a statement attributed to the Chafetz Chaim:
Whoever has Da’at Torah can solve all the world’s problems both in general and in particular […] However, if a person has Da’at Torah but it is mixed even slightly with other opinions from the marketplace or the newspapers, then the Da’at Torah becomes clouded.
In contrast to halachic rulings based on a Torah-driven analysis of sources, which permits and even invites challenging debates, interpretations, and scholarly discourse, the Da’at Torah formulation with no sources provided demands the negation of opposing views, which become inherently illegitimate
In a eulogy delivered by Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik between the two World Wars, on the occasion of the passing of Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzinski zt”l, he expressed similar sentiments that reflect the essence of Agudas Yisrael’s ideology and its relationship to Da’at Torah:
That same figure whose mind was steeped in the Torah sanctity of Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Eliezer, Abaye and Rava, the Rambam and the Raavad, the Beis Yosef and the Rema, would see through his Ruach Hakodesh the resolution of all political questions confronting the world.
Although Rabbi Soloveitchik referred to Rav Chaim Ozer, who drew his rabbinic authority not only from his Torah scholarship and distinguished personality but also from his formal position as the chief rabbi of Vilna, this approach was transferred to the Council of Torah Sages and, following World War II, it gained explicit and consistent formulation in the words of Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler, the Chazon Ish, the Steipler, Rav Shach and their followers. From then on, the term Da’at Torah expanded and became the source of authority upon which the Charedi perspective was based on various public issues—national service exemptions for women, participation in “mixed” organizations, and even the issue of land for peace. It seems that, especially with the decline of traditional community frameworks, the emergence of yeshiva frameworks, and the weakening of the status of community rabbis, the concept of “Da’at Torah” evolved into a fully developed doctrine. The Chazon Ish thus stated the following:
The approach of dividing the Torah into two parts, one part dealing with halachic laws of prohibited and permitted acts, and the other part dealing with guidance in everyday life, submitting to the instructions of the sages of the generation in the first part, while leaving the second part to individual choice, is the old approach of the heretics during the decline of Judaism in Ashkenaz (Germany, Europe). This approach misled the Jewish people until they assimilated among the nations, with none surviving.
This concept not only introduced the “marketplace of life” into the space under rabbinic authority but even eliminated the need for halachic expertise accumulated over the years of rabbinic seniority. Communal questions are answered by a “Torah intuition” rather than by recourse to sources: “It is written,” the Chazon Ish told members of the Mizrachi movement who asked him for the source of the prohibition against “national service” for girls, “is written explicitly in the fifth part of the Shulchan Aruch, which was given over exclusively to Torah scholars.”
This concept not only introduced the “marketplace of life” into the space under rabbinic authority but even eliminated the need for halachic expertise accumulated over the years of rabbinic seniority
In contrast to halachic rulings based on a Torah-driven analysis of sources, which permits and even invites challenging debates, interpretations, and scholarly discourse, the Da’at Torah formulation with no sources provided demands the negation of opposing views, which become inherently illegitimate. It mandates ethical submission to a higher wisdom, eliminating halachic discourse and intellectual pluralism. The contradiction we highlighted at the beginning of the article, between unwavering submission and autonomous self-expression, is thus sharpened.
Community Choice and Personal Choice
In the diaspora, Jews were subject to the authoritative jurisdiction of the local rabbi, a jurisdiction confined within the geographic boundaries of the local community. This community was also diverse in the level of religious commitment among its members, as membership was not voluntary. Upon immigrating to Israel, however, a market model emerged in which individuals choose the communal framework to which they wish to belong. Consequently, they found themselves in a more homogeneous society where everyone adheres to the religious levels they aspire to maintain. Submission to the rabbinical figure selected as leader draws from a deep concern to maintain high religious aspirations and provide a framework for spiritual growth.
Naturally, tensions may arise over time concerning the choice to submit to communal authority. A generation born into a communal framework they did not choose may eventually feel trapped within a structure imposed upon them. Indeed, voices advocating personal autonomy have grown stronger, criticizing the prevailing collectivist values. The current generation was born within the walls of the Charedi community but did not choose it; some seek to realize their personal freedom and stand for their right to listen to their inner voice.
The collective values so attractive to previous generations have lost much of their luster
The collective values so attractive to previous generations have lost much of their luster. While the more extreme factions of Charedi society have fostered a growing sense of alienation towards Israeli society, including a refusal to bear the burden of Israeli pain during wartime, other parts have adopted a critical perspective. Unwilling to accept the doctrine of simple compliance, they demand greater freedom of thought, intellectual inquiry, and personal responsibility.
Walking His Ways and Hearing His Voice
Professor Yochanan Silman[3] distinguishes between two fundamental approaches in the realm of Torah regarding the source of authority for Mitzvos: directives versus commands.
The commandment-based approach is based in part on Devarim 13:5: “Hashem your God, shall you follow and Him shall you fear; His commandments shall you observe and to His voice shall you hearken; Him shall you serve and to Him shall you cleave.“ This approach sees Hashem as a king whose decrees must be obeyed regardless of our understanding or agreement with them.
The directive-based approach sees Hashem as a healer who, through His infinite understanding of humanity and the reality in which we operate, guides and advises us on how to act in the world to bring us completeness. This approach is found in another verse in Devarim (10:12), “Now, O Israel, what does Hashem, your God, ask of you? Only to fear Hashem, your God, to go in all His ways. […]”
The conflict between these two approaches impacts a wide range of questions in the philosophy of Halacha. For our discussion, the Da’at Torah approach, which venerates absolute obedience “even if they tell you right is left and left is right,” aligns closely with the command approach that views us as servants performing the Divine will irrespective of our own understanding. The conduits of the Divine will, in the Da’at Torah approach, are the Gedolim. In contrast, the directive approach guides and directs us, demanding that we “follow His ways.” It advises on proper and correct conduct and urges us to do the good and the just but leaves the choice of whether and how to act to our understanding.
On an educational level, we all desire that our children listen to us and comply with our demands. However, if they continue to seek our instruction at thirty when a dilemma arises, we will hardly define the outcome as an educational success. The exemplary student we see before us is not the obedient child of five who hearkens to our voice but the mature adult who follows our path while employing the tools we give him and who walks the path of Hashem even when the signposts are ambiguous.
As parents, dedicated though we surely are, we still have no concept of how unique and challenging they will be, and we accompany him in prayer and tears so that he may use the values and tools we have taught him wisely.
Prof. Silman sharpens our understanding of two models of deference to authority. According to the first model, we follow “as commanded” (referring to the strict adherence of Aharon to Moshe’s commands), performing duties precisely as instructed. According to the second model, we do not emulate actions but principles and processes, adapting them to life’s conditions with Torah-based reasoning and sensitivity. We must question the degree to which each model should be nurtured and where to place our emphasis in the developmental stages of the Charedi individual and our society as a whole. Which of the models will cultivate that intelligent and thoughtful student who will choose, as an adult, to establish his own home in the tradition handed down from generation to generation? This educational question has always existed; it has been raised before. Yet, let us not forget that our post-everything era requires us to engage the question with greater intensity.
We live in an era of technological transformations that touch upon the foundations of humanity and society, raising questions that have not been asked before. Fundamental concepts by which we live and understand reality are shaken; trust is undermined, and the very concept of truth is questioned. Even the ability to cooperate is challenged. Given these circumstances, we have no choice but to nurture children and students who are wise and resourceful and who can ask questions and challenge us. In the end, they will find, within their deepest and most personal voice, the reason to remain faithful to the traditions of their ancestors.
[1] “Ruach Chaim,” a commentary on Tractate Avot by the students of Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin, on Avot 1:4.
[2] The entire historical review is based on the article “Da’at Torah – A Modern Perspective” by L. Kaplan, p. 105, in ‘Between Authority and Autonomy in Jewish Thought’ edited by Z. Safrai and A. Shagai, United Kibbutz Publishing House, 1997, Tel Aviv.
[3] See Yohanan Silman, Between “Walking in His Ways” and “Listening to His Voice” – Halachic Instructions – as Directives and Commands (2011).
At what point do boys and girls become men and women? The terminology used in shidduchim and education (beyond elementary) shows a general attitude.
But it’s good to grow up.
I am someone who lives and learns in the Chareidi community. I do believe that without their presence the Jewish people would lose a bright light.
With that said I have a question I was hoping if someone can answer.
Is there such a rule as the inverse of what the Chofetz Chaim said. If talmidei chachamim do not have first hand knowledge of the society, the culture but are given the variables to make decisions, can their viewpoints even be considered da’as Torah? Da’as Torah assumes intimate and profound knowledge of the subject matter. If are being supplied the variables, you can provide a meaningful opinion, but is that da’as Torah?