#satmar

Firstly, it's not clarified withing this article that this taxonomy is, by and large, only relevant in the US. Other people here might disagree with me, but I remember that the impression I got from the article was that it's definitely doesn't fit the Israeli framework. That hinders my ability to criticize it, of course, since I'm Israeli. If any American Orthodox Jew would like to chime in to correct me - feel welcome to do so.

One of the things made clear early in the article is that the author already has a favourite flavour of Orthodox Judaism, and that they're not Orthodox himself most likely. I didn't check that thoroughly, so I might be wrong. But this person does seem to particularly like the Modern Orthodox group, which they consider separate from "centrist Orthodox", a more politically conservative version of the former. They lament how it appears most of the old Modern Orthodox Jews became Centrist Orthodox, which feels like explicit favouritism. In and of itself, this isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I do think it's another indicator of bias in this division.

But what really frustrates me is the gatekeeping of the term Chassidut from Chabad and Satmar. I don't know if this writer is a Chassid themself, but either way it seems like an odd thing to say. Let's start with their paragraph on Chabad:

Finally, Chabad and Satmar. One thing is clear: Chabad and Satmar, whatever else they might be, are not Chasidim. Chabad and Satmar deserve their own discussions. Suffice it to say that Chabad, a discrete group, bears no resemblance to the Chasidic Chabad in Europe a century ago. Centered on outreach and P.R., they cannot be characterized as “Chasidic.” Simply put, the Chabad of today does not do “Chasidus” — Chasidic text-study.

I included here the start of the paragraph for the sake of transparency, because I do agree with part of what they say there: Chabad and Satmar are things unto themselves that deserve conversation separately from the rest of Chassidut. The claim I find hard to agree with is that they're not Chassiduyot at all. Especially the reasoning - that Chabad bears no resemblance to the Russian Chassidut that shares their name, and that they do not study Chassidic texts. The latter of those points is demonstrably untrue, now as it was in 2014, as it was in 1911. I know that due to having studied in a high school where the Rosh Yeshiva identified as a Chabad Chassid, and due to having a Chavruta in Chassidut with a Chabadnik. But if you, for whatever reason, don't trust me and think all Chabad does is outreach and PR - go to your local Chabadnik, you know - the one who asks people to put on Tefillin? Or maybe he just operates the local Chabad house, who knows. Ask him what he learned today in khitas. Hopefully he'll understand what you're referring to, as I can't make sure you'll pronounce it right. Either way, he'll know what you're talking about - the daily study of Khumash, Tehillim, and - get this - the Tanya, a fundamental Chassidic book written by the first rabbi of Chabad. But hey, maybe that's not enough. Maybe you want more evidence - ask him if he studied this year's Bosi L(e)Gani. Chances are he did, and he will know what you're talking about, most definitely.

Still don't find that convincing? The largest event organized by Chabad in Israel includes a huge book fair of selling Chassidic books. It comes along with a couple of programs to study Chabad Chassidut writings, arranged by the same person who thought out this book fair. So where does this weird claim even comes from?

I personally see two options for that: a. Because Chabad is very much outreach-oriented ever since their last Rebbe's time, the average non-Chabad non-Orthodox Jew has no idea they do anything outside of that. This, of course, assumes the writer of this article is very much ignorant of Chabad. Which I surely hope they aren't, because it'd be unwise to write about something you don't know much about. My hypocrisy will show with the next part of this post, but bear with me for now. b. They are referring to Chabad not studying much outside their own circle of Chassidut. Which is a claim they didn't actually make, and that I'm not sure is completely true, but there's some truth to it. The aforementioned book fair is very focused on Chabad stuff - though they sell other books, they're pretty limited on that front. Those programs mentioned with the fair are also pretty much Chabad oriented, and you might note I didn't suggest you ask the local Chabadnik if he studied Likutey Muharan or Mey HaShiloakh. While those are (somewhat) well known non-Chabad Chassidic books, I won't count on the average Chabadnik to have studied them. Then again, I don't know if the average Chassid would read them if they aren't Breslov or Izhbitza-Radzin oriented. So keep that in mind.

The other claim - that Chabad today bears no resemblance to what it was in Europe a century ago - is more complicated. I thought, once, of writing a post here about the evolution of Chabad. Because they did change in the past century quite a lot. The roots of the Shluchim complex existed since the conception of Chabad, to a degree, but I think the most important development actually occured between the World Wars, during the time of Rabbi Yosef Yitzkhak of Lubavitch as the Rebbe in Soviet Russia. The anti religious nature of the Soviets led to the Rayyatz, as he is called, to send his Chassidim to support Jewish communities and studies across Russia. This is part of the reason that a large part of the funding for Dvar Malchus, a Chabad paper dedicated to the study of Chassidut, comes from rich Bucharan families: during the time of Soviet Russia, the Bucharan Jews and the Chabadnikim allied with each other to keep Judaism alive. Speaking of the Rayyatz, by the way - if you did ask the local Chabadnik about studying the aforementioned texts, ask them about the Rayyatz's Purim Sikha in Soviet Russia. Hopefully they'll know what you mean, it's rather famous and I think he was arrested after saying it. Afterwards, if the Chabadnik asks you who told you about that... IDK, find a quick solution, because "a random Israeli Orthodox Jew on the Internet" is probably not an appropriate answer.

Anyway, many changes started from there, but it's a long story. The Rayyatz coming to America was the next stage, and then he died and the latest Rebbe (z"l) took over and turned Chabad into what it is today. It was a slow development over decades, and the roots are still there. Claiming otherwise, IMO, is ignorance.

Next, let's go over their claims about Satmar. Note that I did not interact with Satmar Chassidim in my life, and barely interacted with their writings, so on that I admit ignorance. I still intend to talk about it, but I'll try focusing on things I do know. Anyway, from the article:

Satmar, a sectarian group, is also — contrary to conventional wisdom — not Chasidic. With its own distinct separationist character, Satmar is far more “yeshivish” than Chasidic. In fact, Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum — Rav “Yoilish,” who brought Satmar to America — considered himself more an Eastern European “rav” than a Chasidic “rebbe.”

That, in my opinion, is ignorant of the localised variations in Chassidut. Now, to be fair, if I'm correct then they weren't wrong to make this distinction. I'd protest calling them not Chassidic, but if it's because of similarities to Yeshivish (AKA Litvak, apparently) Jews then I get it, to a degree. But still, let's abuse this opportunity to talk about geographical differences in Chassidut!

You must be thinking, but Arch, isn't Chassidut one large things with a lot of hyper localised variations on which Rebbe you follow? Or, well, you're very likely not thinking that because you know it's not true, or expect it due to how I presented it. Eh. Anyway, it really isn't true. Chassidut is, first and foremost, a phenomenon of Eastern Europe. Beyond that, the differences between the various Chasiduyot also depend on location. A Chassidut from Poland and a Chassidut from Galicia aren't going to be the same as each other, or as Ukrainian or Russian Chassiduyot. And Satmar, importantly, is a Hungarian Chassidut.

You see, Hungary is an interesting case. It was under the Austro Hungarian empire before WWI, and this was among the more progressive countries at the time. It had its own form of early Reform movement - they were called Neologists there, apparently. That's significant because the Reform movement didn't really exist in Poland and Ukraine, or at least wasn't very prominent. The Haskalah certainly existed, as did secular Jews, but Reform was stereotypically a Yekke movement, from central-to-western Europe. Thus, the Chassidut in most places it existed - which did not include Germany or France - didn't really get head-to-head with the Reform movement. Their larger opposition was Litvakim - the predecessors to what the writer calls "Yeshivish". In Hungary, though, that wasn't the case. Also, the fact that the chief rabbi of Pressburg (now Bratislava) during the early days of Chassidut was a student of early Chassidic rabbis might have helped. I'm referring, in case you're wondering, to the Khatam Sofer, who is widely known as the founder of Ultra Orthodox Judaism. So the limits and definitions might be different - which can explain why Rav Yoilish of Satmar may have seen himself as closer to a Litvak Rav than to a Chassidic Rebbe. Still, Hungarian Chassiduyot being different from Polish Chassiduyot shouldn't mean they don't get to be called Chasiduyot anymore.

This is a Satmar Hasidic school bus onto which some antisemites have painted “FREE PALESTINE”. Satmar is well-known for its religious opposition to Zionism. The antisemites don’t care; they’re just hiding behind the pretext of anti-Zionism in order to attack Jews, using Israel and Palestine as a cudgel.

This happens all the time. Orthodox Jews in Brooklyn, particularly Satmar Jews, are also physically beaten on an almost daily basis, often by people screaming “FREE PALESTINE!” Antisemites know they can hide behind anti-Zionism and not enough people on the left will care, or they’ll immediately doubt Jews who talk about it or goysplain that “criticism of Israel isn’t antisemitism.”

You’ve never used a search engine before? ...Well, it’s not complicated. Look, you open this window, and you type a question up here, in this bar.

Shock in Satmar stork. Mrs. Liba Attil Zilberstein of Williamsburg, wife of Rabbi Nathan David Silberstein, late of Krakow, ABDC Shaari Torah, of the year of David.

The deceased was born in 1917 in the city of Terszell in northeast Hungary to David and Gital Glick, the youngest of ten children.

She survived the Holocaust with a great deal of heroism, came to the United States and married Rabbi Nathan David in 1946, and raised a family with devotion, raising eight children. None of her family survived the Holocaust.

When she was young, when her twins Abraham and Elazar were in front of the Bar Mitzvah, she discovered terminal cancer and was in very critical condition. Her husband R. Natan David was a definite member and disciple of Rabbi R. Joel of Satmar and he came in and asked for a greeting, the Rebbe did not want to promise anything, said it was a decree from heaven. (Not Hungarian but Polish) The rabbi couldn't help it, adding that he would not leave the room until he received a greeting from the Rebbe.

The Rebbetzin who was in a room next door when she heard it got in the business and hurried the Rebbe to bless that the woman was importing a date date. And the Rebbe gave him a blessing, and also added a promise that the date of her life.

And when he promised it happened, she survived the cancer and had grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Five generations in Halal more than a thousand two hundred pioneers.

Until the last, even on the last Purim, she was healthy and complete and walked on her own, remembering all the names of the family and praying.

She was a very strong and healthy woman and a week ago she was not feeling well, and over the weekend the condition worsened with her lungs and failed to stabilize her condition, she also had symptoms of the Corona virus and on Saturday night the Queen closed her eyes to the world at a good return as a 102 year old with her children.

"The funeral took place only with the participation of her sons and daughters and a limited number of grandchildren who were in close contact with her, and with God's help when the world passed the Corona, a reunion was made with the whole family." This is how Rabbi Moshe Klein of Monsey graced the "Haredi Rooms"

About a year after growing as an observant Jewish person, I began to explore communities outside of my own general area of Atlanta. I had yet to be immersed into a particular area that’s as traditional as Williamsburg. I have been in areas that have Haredim, but most of the time, I have not been to a town completely  immersed in Yiddishkeit. I had already heard of what many call “Hasidic Williamsburg”.

After conflicts in Europe, many dynasties of Chasidish Rebbes found safe haven in America - mostly in metro New York City as place to grow. Williamsburg along with Borough Park and Crowned Heights became places for the growth of traditional Jewish life. It wasn’t always common to see many people in New York City being Shomer Shabbos. Secular Jewish people had been becoming more observant over the decades. This is known as the Baal Teshuvah movement. Jewish outreach became more common from the 1960’s forward with the important people such as Shlomo Carlebach and Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the Chabad-Lubavitch Rebbe, who dedicated their lives to help bring people closer to HaShem and the Jewish people.

Upon leaving the airport, I realized I needed to find an effective way to get to Monsey. Shortly before getting to the exit of the airport, I saw two Frum people (non-Hasidim) entering into the airport, and I asked them if they knew I way to get to Monsey. They said that if I go to Brooklyn, I could get a ride to Monsey from there. When I left the airport building, there was someone assigning people to taxis. That person asked me where was I heading, I didn’t know the address of a particular place to go to in Brooklyn, so I told him that I wanted to go to the nearest Jewish “part of town”, and he said “Williamsburg”. He then told me to go to the cab across the road. I quickly walked passed the road, and realized a cab pulled from my left and quickly stopped. It then occurred to me that I would have to watch where I walk when crossing each road which wasn’t much of an issue in the Suburbs of Georgia. The driver of the cab I was going to asked me where I was headed, so I typed in “Williamsburg Shul” and the first to appear was  Congregation Yetev Lev. It was a Satmar Shul on Rodney Street.  I said to the cab driver “150 Rodney Street”. He then said what road it “crossed” with. I didn’t know and would have to look up. I then realized that knowing what road a place intersects with is normally how drivers figure out how to get to places. Now, I realized that people may say something like “24th and 48th” when referring to the street block intersections.

As we were driving, I realized he was Jamaican and from a brief discussion on Islander culture, the conversation eventually lead into us talking about Jewish topics. The driver believed that Trump was not antisemitic mentioning how Trump’s daughter, Ivanka, converted to Judaism and married Jared Kushner. The driver then talked about how he would buy gifts for his Jewish lawyer in the Hasidish part of Williamsburg that we were headed towards.

I decided to be dropped off before Rodney Street in the general area of Hasidish Williamsburg. I chose to stop the cab after seeing the first road that had people wearing Frum attire. This was the beginning of that area shortly after a bridge. I then proceeded towards the area where I begun to see people wearing Shtreimels and Bekishes. I was looking all around me at this new environment as if I was exploring a continent I haven’t been to.

I remembered learning that on Shushan Purim, Hasidim wear their Shabbos and Yom Tov attire. More and more of them would walk by. Ideally, Frum experience was more interesting than what I could potentially have been doing in the secular, elitist, and “hip” part of Brooklyn. Though, personally, the secular content of the other side of Williamsburg did not interest me. When walking around the streets of this part of town, I was internally thinking “Shtreimels! Shtreimels everywhere! I’m totally in the right part of town!” given I’ve never experienced anything like this in my life. There was an unbelievably enormous amount of Yiddishkeit in this part of town. I walked along the sidewalks looking above in awe at the mere social atmosphere of this community viewings of the environment around me.

I then saw various Hasidim walking towards a building. I was curious what kind of building it was since you couldn’t always tell from the outside.  I asked them if it was a Shul. They said yes. So I walked in. It seemed like a small, compacted Shul.

Upon preparing for the trip, I had the plan of giving Tzedakah to Frum Jewish people but never had a specific plan on who, what, when, or where to do it. I realized that Williamsburg would be a good place for that.

The Rebbe of the Shul then saw me, and I talked to him for a little bit. I asked which Dynasty this was part of, and he said it was Nanash which I’ve never heard of before. I then decided to donate to a dollar to this Shul. He then showed me various folder slots where I could put one in. It may have been that seeing me with Tzitzis and a Kippa, along with casual street clothes, didn’t stop him from being hospitable despite not having the Hasidic appearance.

I then left that Shul looking for something to eat since the place didn’t have much, and I was also interested in seeing more of the area knowing that I’d eventually have to get to Monsey before the blizzard. I found another Shul where I heard someone talking over a microphone. It was a Satmar Shul. When entering the first people to see me gave me a look that showed that they didn’t know what I was doing there. The Rabbi talking through an intercom and was discussing Purim in Yiddish. It then occurred to me that they really do emphasize on the distinct accent by using the Hasid’sh way of pronouncing Purim as “Pirim”. It was that word that made me realize they were discussing Purim since the fast-paced Yiddish wasn’t something I could keep up with. I then felt like this was another place to donate money to, and saw kids collecting charity. I then gave multiple kids one dollar each. The kids looked very enthusiastic to receive these donations from someone like me - given that I didn’t look Hasidish.

I found a small Kosher grocery store. When being close to entering the store, I saw a young Hasidish man (probably around my age) walking into the store. I decided to say hit to him. He then gave me that look as if I was doing something not socially ideal. It then occurred to me that I was thinking with my more Southern mindset where saying hi to everyone is more acceptable.

In the store, was a pack of pre-made scrambled egg for a little less than four dollars. For some reason, I decided not to buy it. The cashier had a Russian accent, and we briefly spoke in Russian. I asked him if there were any Kosher restaurants near by...

When leaving the store, a Frum person in a black hat started asking asking if I was lost. I told him I was trying to get to Yeshivah Ohr Somayach in Monsey. He then told me that I could use the Monsey Trails bus to get there. When asking if I wanted to eat anything, I said I’d probably buy something in the area, and he decided to show me this free-soup kitchen around the block. It was a place where some local Frum people would gather to eat.

I wanted to wash my hands before eating but couldn’t find the soap. The young man helping people out only knew Yiddish. When trying to say “Soap”, he didn’t understand. So I pulled out my smartphone and googled “Yiddish for Soap”. The word “Zeyfer” was the Yiddish word for Soap, so I said “Zeyfer, Zeyfer.”, and he then suddenly seemed to understand what I wanted to directed me to the soap.

After washing my hands, I got a place and begun serving myself  with a piece of bread, some egg salad and multiple slices of Gefilte Fish on it. After sitting down, I could hear tons of people saying “Gefilte” within their own conversations in Yiddish which I did not fully understand but could assume that they were talking about me and my large quantity of Gefilte Fish.

Because I wanted to give more people Tzedakah, I pulled all of the coins out of my wallet, and tried to find someone to give it to. Given that I was wearing street clothes and was walking around with coins in my hand, when trying to ask someone if they needed Tzedakah (since I didn’t know Yiddish I just said “Tzedakah?” two times, and then man I was intending to donate money to pulls out some coins and puts them in my hand (that already had coins). It then occurred to me that this man may have thought that I was the poor one begging for money when I was really trying to make a charitable donation.

I then benched on my meal, and then left the area. Still waiting for the bus, I decided to check out the local Shul, and found Yetev Lev. It was a Satmar Shul. I found more people to give donations and used the coins I got from the soup kitchen to put it in that Tzedakah box in this Shul. In a way, the Hasidim were indirectly donating to each other with me as the intermediary.

It then came time for Mincha. I had realized I entered what I now know as a “Minyan Factory”. There were plenty of rooms for different minyanim one after another. I didn’t attend the first one but attended the second one. In that room, I heard their way of pronunciations of words like “Ameyn” which they pronounced as “Umayn”. Surprisingly, I was able to keep up with their davening despite not fully recognizing this dialect, I was able to keep up with them by merely reading along with the Hebrew script in the Siddur. Given there was no English translation in the Siddurim, my recognition of the Hebrew text was how I was able to understand what was happening around me.

The words of my own personal thoughts on Observant communities are still the same from when I was secular “The Haredim are rejecting and revolting against modern world”. I could still make the same statement now except for the fact that my tone in how I say it is much more positive given that I’m less secular. When one is adapted to various commodities in postmodern societies, it can be easier for such an individual to say the above statement with negativity, but overtime, I have turned around to a much more positive view on the statement.

Eventually, I found someone who knew some English.  He said he lived in Monsey and was waiting for the same bus I was waiting for. When he asked me where I’m from, I told him I’m from “Atlanta” He said he doesn’t know where that was. I decided it not to go into detail about that because I didn’t want to over-expose him to the outside world given he’s clearly been able to be purely  preserved this far in life.  We later talked about Yiddishkeit, and then asked him if he could help me put on Tefillin. Later, I found more people to give Tzedakah to. I saw someone dressed with a fancier Bikishes, and for some reason,I thought it was the Satmar Rebbe, Aaron Teitelbaum. So I went up to him and started talking to him. So I asked the younger bokher near him “Is that the Satmar Rebbe?”, and he said “No, that’s my dad” then told his dad that I thought he was the Satmar Rebbe. The individual who I thought was the Satmar Rebbe, then told me that his son needed to stay in Yeshivah and talked about the hopes for the son to get married. So I gave that person some money.