I read a fascinating article recently in Tablet online magazine, entitled, “Baal Teshuva: The Next Generation,” by Israeli writer Dana Kessler. She tells of an interesting phenomenon that occurred in Israel in the 1970s: In the wake of the psychological upheavals of the Six Day War in 1967 (with its staggering victory) and the Yom Kippur War in 1973 (with its devastating near defeat), some secular Israeli celebrities turned “ultra-Orthodox,” to the shock of their friends. They include popular comedian and movie star Uri Zohar as well as a few prominent scientists, such as chemistry professor Doron Auerbach. The trickle became a flood. “Thousands of Israelis became chozrim beteshuva in the late 1970s and early ’80s,” writes Kessler, and “most of this first wave joined closed-off chareidi communities, believing that the light shines brightest in the world of the ultra-Orthodox.”
The Tablet article explores what happened to the children those newly chareidi Israelis who tried to integrate and become “real” chareidim. It found that the picture was not all rosy. “Now their oldest children are grown up and have children of their own, and they can testify to the fact that for many, their cultural, financial, and social assimilation into the chareidi world can be deemed a failure,” she writes. “Many of the children of the original chozrim beteshuva have since left the chareidi communities where they were raised. And while their parents have, by and large, not returned to the secular world, many have changed their relationship to the chareidi world.”
The author introduces us to a new Israeli documentary called Reflected Light that looks at the identity crisis among second-generation chozrim beteshuva, as they are called in Israel. One of the subjects of the film is Moti Barlev, a 36-year-old tour guide. He left the chareidi world 15 years ago. His parents still live in Meah Shearim. Barlev says the biggest problem for second-generation chozrim beteshuva is lack of identity. “We don’t belong to the chareidi world, and we don’t belong elsewhere,” he says. “From an early age, we were second-class citizens.”
The article further claims that “most of the troubled youth in chareidi areas are second-generation chozrim beteshuva. There are problems with drugs, conflicts within the home.” Kessler enumerates some of the issues facing families where the parents became frum as adults.
First is their difficulty in communicating with their children, who did not have the parents’ experiences. Here, I will quote again and welcome you to disagree totally with the author of the article: “Rabbi Oded Nitzani calls this ‘the shoelace-tying syndrome.’ The halacha states how one must tie their shoelaces. First you put on your right shoe, then your left shoe, then you tie your left shoe and then your right shoe. A chozer beteshuva realizes he doesn’t know how to tie his own shoes, and if so, what does he know?” This can lead to a lack of confidence and not knowing what is vital and what is not, and thus needlessly make demands on children that may be ill advised.
Another issue is lack of parental authority. “Often the parental authority of the chozer beteshuva is broken,” Barlev says. “Children of baalei teshuvah are in an interesting position, not dissimilar to that of immigrants. Often, children of chozrim beteshuva know the dress code of the chareidi world better than their parents. Children sense their parents’ cluelessness and clumsiness. It is hard to have parental authority when your children don’t respect you.” There is also the contradiction inherent in having parents who “rebelled” against their own parents’ way of life yet expect their children to follow in the ways of their “forefathers.” The children may think that it is their right, too, to forge their own path as their parents did.
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I cannot independently confirm if Kessler’s claim is valid, but let’s assume it is correct in the context of Israel. Certainly, we are familiar with organizations that come to us to raise funds for off-the-derech children of American baalei teshuva in communities like Ramat Beit Shemesh, kids who didn’t find their place. We know that joining a new society is not easy. But let’s examine what their experience might mean for our own future in America.
As an American Jew living in Baltimore, this claim of lack of identity seems a little overblown. In the film, Barlev says, “The chareidi society is tribal. What matters is what family you’re from. Second-generation chozrim beteshuva don’t belong to any tribe, they have no status in the chareidi society. You can’t become chareidi, you are born one.” If so, living in a city such as Ramat Beit Shemesh and marrying others from Anglo community seems to work for many. Forget about being accepted by Eretz Yisroeldikeh chareidim. If they are tribal, stick with your tribe, American olim. That’s what I think, but what do I know?
This chareidi tribalism may very well be true in some parts of American Jewish society as well. I know a family where the mother grew up Litvish but married a chasid. When the time came to marry off their daughter, they found that the mother’s ancestry was a drawback. They eventually made a match with another family where the mother had attended a “Litvish” school and married a chasid.
Here in Baltimore, however, our community has absorbed all kinds of Jews from all kinds of backgrounds. Simply put, I think that we in Baltimore don’t suffer to the same extent. Our community accepts all of our children into our schools, we marry with other types of Jews, and we accept baalei teshuva and marry them all the time. The description of Eretz Yisrael chareidim seems almost strange. But I guess there are places even in this country where you don’t fit in if you weren’t born into that group.
Let me summarize how I view the contemporary scene. While we face severe challenges as a community, and growing up is harder than it used to be, the number of frum Jews is nevertheless growing, and we have established institutions that deal with our issues. For instance, no longer are there only one-size-fits-all schools; there is a sufficient number of pupils to have diversity. And no longer does our community think that the only way to keep the youth is to water down Yiddishkeit. Instead, the opposite is true. The type of Judaism that is making it nowadays is one that emphasizes intensive learning and observance. Although this leads to its own set of problems and drives away many, some would say that this is “collateral damage” and can’t be helped. Or, as an Israeli chareidi Rav once told me, “Ein bayis asher ein sham meis.” Every family loses some children.
I don’t see it exactly that way. I think we in Baltimore have not had to circle the wagons and exclude all those who don’t conform. I think that is our strength and the reason we are so attractive to many who move here. So what works in the long run? Most likely, it depends on many factors, and all we can do is the best we can and daven for success in raising our children and grandchildren to continue in the ways of our People. May we all succeed in this holy task!
The writer would like to hear from baalei teshuva families in Baltimore and how bringing up a frum family worked for them. Please send your comments in care of the Where What When at wwwmagazine@aol.com.
