A bi-weekly column on the tension between rooted tradition and progressive change in Modern Orthodox Judaism. From the perspective of a Torah-observant college student with a deep love for food, justice, and community.Last week on a frigid Thursday night, I stood outside of a Queens Kosher supermarket with several of my activist friends, educating consumers about a product being sold inside. “We’re concerned about Flaum’s, a Kosher appetizing company,” we told customers. “Not only have they been accused of infringing on labor rights, they have also been sentenced to pay the workers $270,000 in backpay. The owner, Moishe Grunhut, has been stalling to pay his workers the wages due to them. I’m here representing a Jewish social justice organization, Uri L’Tzedek–and we believe that this is not only a Chillul Hashem, but denying workers the wages due to them is against halacha.” Our fingers froze around our placards as the evening progressed and we urged Kosher consumers to use their power and pressure the supermarket to drop the product until the issue is resolved.This was the third rally of its kind, and it is amazing to watch my peers and fellow activists transform during actions like this one. There is a sense of greater purpose, accomplishment, and solidarity. A feeling of warmth and community is fostered through engagement in collective action. A new bond of partnership forms between immigrant workers and kosher consumers.The students that chose to stand outside of the grocery store that evening have an incredible amount of power. From the Civil Rights Movement in the American South to the Solidarity movement in Poland and the Soviet Jewry, students have been on the forefront of social change, and universities have served as the hotbeds of progressive action.
As we enter a new calendar year, the world has exploded in protest, from the occupation of the streets of New York City to pro-democracy protests all over the world, and students have played a major part in these movements.Jewish students have largely been a part of the resurgence of social action movements around the country, but I’ve found Orthodox organizations largely absent from the movements to which I devote my time. Not only that–I’ve even faced a great deal of resistance from my observant peers in University for the work I’ve been involved in.
For me, being involved in social justice work from the perspective of Torah values was a journey. The suburban Modern Orthodox community in which I grew up always emphasized the importance of chesed, or acts of kindness, but there did not seem to be a serious commitment to advocating for structural change. After graduating from the Berman Hebrew Academy, completing a year of study in Israel, and moving to New York for college, I entered the social justice world with excitement. The texts I had learned over my year of religious study danced off the page as I became involved in social justice work on campus and delved deeper into my major in Urban Studies, within which I study the social and structural conditions of cities. Both in my academic work and as I pursued student activism, various halachot concerning tenants and landlords, charity, and workers’ rights spelled out for me the obligation of the Jewish people to build a just society.I became social action chair at my Hillel and started a Challah for Hunger chapter on campus, in which students bake and sell challah on campus to raise funds and awareness for the Darfur relief effort. At a campus with over 4,000 Jews, I eagerly anticipated how the project would be received. I viewed our work not only as a Kiddush Hashem, but also as absolutely necessary and basic. To my dismay, however, many Orthodox students approached the table, furious. “How could you sell challah to benefit non-Jews?” some asked. Others said I was causing Jews to sin because Jews should only channel their resources within their own communities.
Over the next three years, I faced resistance and apathy when I tried to engage my traditional peers in activism–from global issues like genocide to local issues of hunger and homelessness–but many, though willing to volunteer, refused to ever hold a placard at a rally to advocate for “non-Jewish” issues. Just last week, at the Flaum’s rally, I thought I could mobilize dozens. Here was an issue of wage theft being perpetuated from within the Jewish community. Surely, students would be outraged. That sense of urgency, however, was just not there. At best, ten students will show up to these rallies.
Growing up in Modern Orthodox Silver Spring, I found myself at many protests and rallies, but they were often Israel-related. More recently, students have begun to mobilize to advocate for Agunot. Again, however, I find that the Jewish voices at protests that are not for explicitly Jewish causes are generally non-Orthodox. Forget Occupy–there are other initiatives.
I understand and value the sense of urgency with internal community issues and with the Jewish homeland, but as global and national citizens, Orthodox students must stand up and take initiative. Why is there an absence of Orthodox organizations in contemporary American protest culture? It may be that because change in Orthodoxy is something that is supposed to just “happen”–it’s something that the Rabbis make happen, or a process that unfolds over hundreds of years. But Orthodox or not, Jewish students don’t have the option to stand aside when injustices are being perpetuated, especially in our own community.
I don’t want to generalize; I am only speaking from my own experience about a phenomenon that I’ve observed among the Orthodox Jewish college community. That said, kippah-wearing students at Yale sustain and energize the anti-genocide movement, and traditional students at the University of Maryland advocate for food justice and plant a community garden to feed vulnerable populations in the area.
I think to ignore the obligation to speak out against injustice is a deficiency in our Torah observance. I challenge us as Torah-observant Jews to think deeply about our roles as activists. What does it mean that we’re at a historical moment where we can stand up for others in addition ourselves? What drives us to attend a rally or a protest? What issues do we consider “our” issues?
