Last February 1, the Orthodox Union, the umbrella organization of mainstream Orthodoxy in North America, adopted as its official policy a rabbinical ruling that prohibits women from serving as clergy in any of its over 400 member synagogues. The intention, evidently, was to resolve the controversy over the ordination of women as “halakhic, spiritual, and Torah leaders” in the modern Orthodox community. That resolution, to put it mildly, has not yet occurred. Orthodox supporters of women’s ordination have denounced the ruling (here, here, and here) – one calls it “an historic mistake of epic proportions” –  and seem determined to stick to their course. We’re obviously sympathetic, and we wish them success in resisting the OU’s policy.

But that’s not what this post is about.

We want to focus upon the ruling itself, a 17-page text in which the OU’s “Rabbinic Panel”  sets forth the argument that “a woman should not be appointed to serve in a clergy position” (p. 12). That this panel of “distinguished poskim”[1]  would reach such a conclusion is hardly a surprise. What is noteworthy about the ruling, a feature we find refreshingly honest, is its extensive discussion of the “halakhic methodology” that its authors followed in arriving at their decision. Given the sensitive nature of this question, they realize that it “must be answered in a way that goes beyond a simple yes or no, permitted or prohibited.”  The response, rather, must begin with a discussion of legal theory, a description of how rabbis arrive at all halakhic decisions, including this one. It encompasses what the authors identify as “three primary factors” in the making of a rabbinical decision (p’sak): “legal sources, precedent, and a relevant halakhic ethos.” (p. 1). The conclusion, ostensibly, is a product of all three of these factors. We’re going to skip over the ruling’s analysis of the “legal sources,” which are ambiguous at best;[2] we’ll save that for our next post. Similarly, we won’t spend time on its discussion of “precedent.” The phenomenon of female clergy is obviously quite new in Jewish history and until very recently has been unprecedented in the Orthodox community.  For that matter, any new arrangement in social and communal life is by definition a departure from “precedent” and will therefore encounter opposition as a departure from accepted practice. Yet not every new thing is in fact a wrong thing, a violation of Jewish law. The question facing the posek, always, is whether in this case the precedent is legally dispositive, i.e. whether it determines the outcome and must be followed. The answer to that question requires an act of judgment by the decision maker. And that judgment is based upon the posek‘s “halakhic ethos,” which brings us to what is by far the most important section of the ruling (pp. 3-7).

Its authors use the term “halakhic ethos” as a synonym for the worldview (hashkafat olam [p.1]) or weltanschauung (p. 4) or the web of “Torah values“ (p. 4) through which the posek interprets and applies the formal legal or halakhic sources. Another word for this ethos is “mesorah,” which the authors define as “an appreciation for, and application of, tradition as the guide by which new ideas, challenges, and circumstances are navigated” (p. 6). Mesorah is the means by which “halakhic leadership” can “continually probe whether proposed changes and accommodations will enable the community to advance the objectives of an authentic Torah ethos, or simply accommodate prevailing values and expressions, often in opposition to the Torah worldview” (p. 7). To put it differently, if somewhat bluntly: while the texts of halakhah, like all texts, support multiple interpretations and can therefore support different legal conclusions, the correct interpretation is the one that reflects the “authentic Torah ethos” as that ethos is understood and applied by the recognized “halakhic leadership.”

Thus, to know “what the halakhah says” on any issue of real interest and complexity, one must do more than simply consult the relevant texts.  Likely as not, the texts can go either way; in our case, some estimable Orthodox scholars interpret them so as to permit the ordination of women as rabbis.[3] Rather, as the members of the OU Rabbinic Panel instruct us, to identify the correct or best available interpretation one must read those sources through the prism of the “halakhic” or the “authentic Torah ethos” as defined by those empowered to define it.

And it is here that we owe them a great debt. Many rabbis (too many, we think) describe the activity of halakhic decision as a quasi-scientific process, the impartial application of scholarly method that will reveal the objective truth lying within the sources. This ruling, by happy contrast, openly and honestly acknowledges reality: namely that the “objective truth,” if it indeed exists, often lies beyond our ken. Halakhic texts – again, like all texts – communicate meaning and significance because they are read and discussed and debated by the members of a particular, self-identified interpretive community, a community that exists on the basis of its members’ shared understandings of just how those texts are to be interpreted and what purposes and goals are served by the activity of interpretation. “Shared understandings” is another way of saying “ethos,” and it is this ethos that guides the interpreters toward the one interpretation that the community will ultimately accept as the correct one or, at least, as the best available one. In this case, the Rabbinic Panel applies its own version of the “authentic Torah ethos”[4] to the halakhic texts in order to identify the negative stance, the one that prohibits the ordination of women, as the best available interpretations of those texts. To be sure, its definition of the message of the “Mesorah” on this question is inherently controversial, even within the Orthodox community.[5] But then, how else could the Rabbinic Panel have arrived at any decision, pro or con? Without some ethos, without some understanding of its message, neither they nor any other rabbi could make sense of the sources so as to answer the questions put to them.

We in the progressive halakhic camp, of course, operate from within our own ethos, our own hashkafat olam or weltanschauung, our own set of shared understandings about how to interpret halakhic texts. Our understanding differs from that of Orthodox poskim, and that fact distinguishes our community of interpretation from theirs. But that the halakhic sources must be interpreted from the vantage point of some worldview is the reality within which all halakhic decision, whether theirs or ours, must take place. We can only express our appreciation to the members of the Rabbinic Panel for acknowledging this reality.

Bottom line: there is no such thing as halakhic decision in the absence of an halakhic ethos. What remains to be decided, what is up to us, is whether that ethos will be established upon progressive values or determined by a panel of distinguished Orthodox poskim.

_____________________________________________________

[1] See p. 3 of the OU statement. And check out the roster of members on p. 4: there’s no doubt  that the members of the panel, specially appointed to consider this very question, are outstanding Orthodox halakhic scholars. But as our post argues, that is precisely the problem.

[2] The authors indicate as much; see their remarks in the first paragraph on p. 2.

[3] Yeshivat Maharat offers links to t’shuvot by Orthodox authorities  who permit women’s ordination.

[4] We say “its own version” because it relies heavily upon the thought of Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik (cited frequently throughout the ruling), the rav as well as the intellectual eminence grise of the Modern Orthodox community of North America.

[5] Rabbi Yaakov Kanefsky challenges it here.