In the Atlantic Monthly Larry Alex Taunton a committed Christian writes of setting out to learn what makes nonbelievers tick by interviewing college students who are active in campus atheist groups. “Slowly ” he writes “a composite sketch of American college-aged atheists began to emerge and it would challenge all that we thought we knew about this demographic.”

Although he writes within a Christian context Taunton’s findings would seem to have considerable application to a Jewish one as well. For example he found that the “mission and message of their churches was vague. These students heard plenty of messages encouraging ‘social justice’ community involvement and ‘being good ’ but they seldom saw the relationship between that message and [religion]…. They felt their churches offered superficial answers to life’s difficult questions…. Serious-minded they often concluded that church services were largely shallow harmless and ultimately irrelevant.” This seems like a fitting description of what often passes for religious life in the Jewish heterodox movements but some of these are concerns that Orthodox Jews would also do well to note.  

Tauntonwrites that given their disdain for tepid platitudinous religiosity it’s no surprise that “[w]ithout fail our former church-attending students expressed [positive] feelings for those Christians who unashamedly embraced biblical teaching.”  It was the failure to find such exemplars of unapologetic religious belief that often played a role in these young people’s disaffection from their faith.

As one student put it “I can’t really consider a Christian a good moral person if he isn’t trying to convert me. Christianity is something that if you really believed it it would change your life and you would want to change [the lives] of others. I haven’t seen too much of that.” And to similar effect is this quote from an atheist illusionist and comedian: “I don’t respect people who don’t proselytize.… How much do you have to hate somebody to believe that everlasting life is possible and not tell them that?”

This brought to mind a recent observation of Rabbi Ari Koretzky who heads a kiruv group on aUniversity ofMaryland campus:

I often find it ironic when I encounter more whispered suspicion about my kiruv efforts from Orthodox students than from their secular brethren…. [M]any within the Modern Orthodox community in fact feel morally unjustified imparting their beliefs to others. Yet accusations that those in kiruv “brainwash” and “push their agenda” on students so dramatically misrepresents the facts on the ground; every experienced mekarev that I know — and I know many — respects the deep humanity of his students encourages balanced measured and emotionally healthy growth and promotes honest dialogue about any topic that emerges….

Sadly … many in the Modern Orthodox community who in the finest Hirschian tradition could most credibly wage intellectual battle on behalf of Torah ideology refrain from doing so. Instead they critique kiruv in a manner that belies either their own insecurities of belief or their unfounded concern that imparting these beliefs to others would compromise their intellectual integrity or inappropriately influence others.

Mr. Taunton’s once-churchgoing interviewees would seem to agree. As he concludes:

Sincerity does not trump truth. After all one can be sincerely wrong. But sincerity is indispensable to any truth we wish others to believe. There is something winsome even irresistible about a life lived with conviction. I am reminded of the Scottish philosopher and skeptic David Hume who was recognized among a crowd of those listening to the preaching of George Whitefield the famed evangelist of the First Great Awakening: “I thought you didn’t believe in the Gospel ” someone asked. “I do not ” Hume replied. Then with a nod toward Whitefield he added “But he does.”

This also holds relevance for various other encounters we have with those beyond our world including the current struggle of the Torah community with the Israeli political forces arrayed against it. As I see it there are two things we need to be doing. One is to clarify for ourselves what we believe and why and the second is to think about how we might go about explaining those beliefs in a way that might resonate with a secular Israeli society.

I’ve already written about the former because I believe it’s the most crucial and perhaps the determinative of our discussions. That’s not only because knowing the truth matters but because the clearer we are about our own beliefs the more passionate and persuasive we can be with those beyond our camp — even if they don’t ultimately accept our premises.

After writing about the yawning chasm separating our conception of Torah from that of others whose “chareidi” identity was purchased for the store price of a big black velvet yarmulke I sent the draft to someone I respect seeking his critique. He responded that “this is fine but it really avoids the main issue from the other side’s point of view. It might be a very good thing for the State to protect thousands of really outstanding avreichim. But on what principle that they also accept can we demand that they do so?” 

But the column’s purpose wasn’t to look at the issue from a secular standpoint and certainly not to make any such “demand.” There are in fact strong premises on which we can make a reasoned case for acceptance of at least some of our positions. Surely we ought to take the time to hear and understand opposing views but it does us no service if every forthright articulation of our stance is reflexively followed by the question of “but why should the others agree?” First and foremost it is vital to set forth the truth about the role of Torah in our own lives so that we’re clear about what we’re advocating and much more importantly so that our commitment to limud haTorah remains vital and robust.

NEW FRIENDS RIGHT NEXT DOOR Now and then people will comment to me humorously — I think — about having to be careful with what they say within my earshot lest something they say ends up featured in this space. I respond in kind by musing about the occupational price to pay of having to replace my old friends with new ones every so often due to the mention of the former here or lack thereof.

But this much is certain: My net supply of friends never suffers because my association with Mishpacha ensures a constant supply of new and high-quality ones. A case in point is a recent visit I made to the men’s division of Harmony Services also known as Kinor Dovid a program inBoroPark that does amazing things for people with a range of developmental disabilities such as autism Down syndrome and others.

Harmony’s goal is to give these individuals the skills and experience to enable them to hold down jobs in various businesses and integrate as productive citizens in Jewish society at large. A case in point is the story of Reuvain which Harmony’s program director Yechiel Hirth shared with me. An autistic young man Reuvain came to Harmony when it first opened with an uncontrolled temper and a tendency to communicate with inappropriate sounds rather than words. The program’s staff — which includes rebbeim therapists and counselors — enveloped him with love and warmth and he received the gamut of therapeutic interventions. Fast forward six years: Reuvain is a calm content fellow with a productive job cleaning ambulances and the noises have been replaced by a habit of happy-go-lucky singing. 

I’d been invited in to speak to a group of about 20 young men who according to their rebbi Rabbi Moshe Boylan are keenly interested in Mishpacha. And indeed I shared some magazine-insider talk with the group and then took questions. After I recovered from the surprise first question they sprung on me — “Can we be on Mishpacha’s front cover?” — a lively back-and-forth ensued that showed these folks to be up on and fascinated by the very latest goings-on in the frum world. 

After the program as I lingered to schmooze with the chevrah Yehuda the resident Kohein acceded to my request for a brachah by placing both hands on my head and meaningfully intoning the entire parshah of Bircas Kohanim. I’ve been on Harmony’s block many times but never knew of the gem of a place right next door. One never does know just what blessings he’s regularly passing by oblivious to their existence.