It would seem that the only thing all these labels imply is that one is intellectually and religiously confused.
* * *
Another popular label is “Yeshivish,” which is used as a direct contrast to “Modern Orthodox” and is meant to imply a higher level of Torah knowledge and observance (than even the “Machmir” variety, if this can be possible). Strangely enough, not all people who spend a great deal of time in yeshivas earn the label “Yeshivish”; there are distinctly “Yeshivish” yeshivas and “Modern” yeshivas. (The former are sometimes referred to as “real” yeshivas.)
The distinction between the two seems to coincide with whether or not all the rebbeim have beards and have never set foot in a college, but even this can’t always be taken for granted.
“Yeshivish” is usually meant in a positive way, but sometimes it is used derogatorily, as in “too Yeshivish.” Hence we have the derivative labels “Modern Yeshivish” and “Black Hat Yeshivish.” The former would seem to be a contradiction in terms, while the latter implies authentic “Yeshivishness” due to the ever-meaningful black hat. The black hat is a true symbol of real Yeshivishness, often irrespective of a carefully formulated philosophy or even halachic behavior.
Since some people wish to be included in the good type of “Yeshivish” without wearing a black hat, the label “Black Hat Type” has evolved (despite the fact that black hats are a relatively “modern” accessory.)
We also have “YU Yeshivish” and “Lakewood Yeshivish.” The former seems to refer to someone who attends college but doesn’t take it too seriously (quite a line to have to toe), while the latter implies “real” Yeshivish. These labels say nothing of whether the individual has inculcated substantial knowledge or character development through his time in yeshiva – but these seem to be relatively unimportant details in the world of labels.
There is plain old “YU Type,” which doesn’t take into account the fact that you can find Jews of nearly any type and stripe at Yeshiva University. This label is, nevertheless, presumed to be very meaningful.
Then there is “Haredi” or “Ultra-Orthodox.” Haredim presume themselves to be the authentic standard bearers of observant Jewry, and often look at everyone else with disdain. Haredim are also presumed to be against secular studies and in some cases even working for a living. Then again, there are many self-proclaimed haredim who have secular knowledge and serious jobs. What distinguishes them from Modern Orthodox Machmir types? Maybe the black hat, if even that. As difficult as it can be to tell between them, though, everyone will agree that they are miles apart.
“Ultra-Orthodox” is a label of choice, particularly in the non-Jewish media, to refer to people who are unmistakably Jewish by virtue of the fact that by secular lights no one in his right mind would dress like that if not for some deep religious reason. Because they appear “more Jewish” to the naked eye, they are presumed to be the most authentic religious Jews, to the extent that their actual knowledge and behavior are often afterthoughts. Hence the newspaper headlines about “Ultra-Orthodox” Jews involved in behavior that even a plain Orthodox Jew would find revolting.
(The conundrum of how one can be more Orthodox than Orthodox – assuming that Orthodox means strict adherence to Jewish tradition – has never been explained.)
And then there’s “Heimish” – a label vague and flexible enough to encompass a wide range of individuals, though I’m afraid that in all too many cases it’s best applied to those who pretend well.
Jews who don’t fall into any of the above categories are in serious trouble. After all, there’s not much left aside from lepers and Moabite converts. A “Traditional Jew” is one who has abandoned tradition, a “Torah Jew” is using a noun as an adjective, and a “Shomer Mitzvos” Jew needs to explain which mitzvos he is observing and why we would assume he isn’t observing them in the first place. (Maybe he needs to learn about black hats.)
Of course, anyone who is a little offbeat but not off the derech can call himself “Carlebachian” and hope for the best.
* * *
What has been collectively forgotten is that even the term “Orthodox” was coined by none other than Reform Jews in the 1800’s, as a derogatory reference to Jews who clung too closely to tradition. Although the term has since been accepted and widely used, perhaps we would do well to ponder the fact that before the Reformers there were just Jews. Some were more observant, some were less observant, and some weren’t observant at all. Somehow we were able to tell the difference, and we didn’t need silly labels to do it.
(Even terms like Reform and Conservative don’t mean as much as they used to, as the ideologies of these “movements” are no longer clear to those who identify with them.)
What should be obvious by now is that labels do a poor job of defining individuals or communities. The creation of derivative labels both highlights this problem and perpetuates it. But like an addict whose source of comfort is also the source of his troubles, we continue to produce new and better labels to try to solve the ineffectiveness of labels.
Fine, you might say, labels are imperfect, but they are a necessary evil.
Personally, I don’t believe any evil is necessary, nor does this concept spring from the Torah.
Ah, but labels are still “helpful” in at least giving a partial description, or narrowing things down a bit, aren’t they? For example, we wouldn’t expect a Modern Orthodox Liberal to study at a kollel in Bnei Brak, nor would we expect a Black Hat Yeshivish type to teach a course in college.
Well, bravo. Do we really need labels to exclude the absurd for us? Is there no better way to achieve the same transfer of information without relying on stereotypes and hopelessly ambiguous phrases, without categorizing Jews in ways that highlight superficialities and ultimately drive people apart for dubious reasons? Are these labels really describing anything about a person’s values, beliefs, or behavior, or providing a mere illusion of doing so for the convenience of the label-user?
The bottom line is that labels are subject to so many interpretations that using them only exacerbates the need for detailed explanation. If the detailed explanation is not forthcoming, and the labels are merely a shortcut or a crutch, then misconceptions and misinformation are inevitable. If, however, the detailed explanation is forthcoming, then why bother with the label? Who needs it?
There is no way to avoid the fact that labels will mean too many things to too many people to really mean much of anything. Throughout Jewish history we were labeled only by virtue of halachic fidelity in a wide sense or a serious break from tradition. Communication was unenhanced by labels – and unencumbered by them.
Are we better off today? Has this modern invention brought the Jewish people closer together, facilitated communication, deepened understanding of ourselves and others, and brought us closer to authentic observance of the Torah?
Or have labels drawn artificial lines in the sand, complicated communication, exaggerated the importance of superficialities, and camouflaged deviations from authentic observance of the Torah?
Most important, does anyone – should anyone – neatly fit into any label? Or should every individual be a world unto himself within the acceptable bounds of halacha and Jewish tradition? Shouldn’t we live in a world where everyone fashions his own unique label that fits him and only him, where the number of permutations of “Jew” equals the number of Jews in the world?
At the end of his life, Moshe beseeched Hashem to appoint a leader for the Jews who would be conducive to the divergent spirits and personalities of each individual. The Midrash elaborates that just as no two people look exactly alike, no two people think exactly alike. The lesson for our generation is that no single label can fit any two people, and we do no one a service by trying to circumvent this deep truth.
If one uses a label to describe others, he does not really know them, and if one uses a label to describe himself, he does not really know himself. The ramifications in terms of assessing people for shidduch purposes or their standing as Jews who serve Hashem are nothing short of devastating.
It may be difficult and inconvenient for people to try to express themselves without resorting to labels. It may require a complete rethinking of what is important about people and what is important in Judaism. It may so much as require that people relearn how to speak – almost like newborns.
But we cannot allow the difficulty of the task and the allure of inertia to rationalize the continued dependence on labels. The long-term rewards of greater unity, deeper interpersonal understanding, enhanced communication, and a focus on substance over image are far worthier than a bowl of red lentils.
At least give it a try. Drop the labels for an entire week, no exceptions. I bet you’ll never want to go back.
