delray beach orthodox rabbi

                                             
                                                                                            B"H
Australian Judaism - a new spin on tradition

I’m currently on a short flight from Australia to Los Angeles—a mere 15 hours on the plane. By the time I arrive in LA, it will be five hours earlier than my departure from Australia. Perhaps this gives some insight into how God knows what’s going to happen tomorrow—heaven may exist in a vastly different timezone! Thankfully, I don’t have a typical sleep rhythm, or I would be completely out of sync upon arrival.

Miriam and I previously lived in Melbourne, Australia, so we didn’t spend time sightseeing or touring during this visit. We attended the wedding of Miriam’s nephew, which was, of course, as beautiful as all weddings are. We also had the chance to reconnect with old friends. (Having left Australia thirty years ago, we found that everyone we knew is now thirty years older—except, miraculously, Miriam and me!)

One fascinating discovery on this trip was encountering a new classification of Judaism I hadn’t been aware of before. While I’ve never been deeply involved with Chabad, Melbourne has a unique Jewish community with a strong Chabad influence. Nearly every Orthodox synagogue there is led by a Chabad rabbi, and their presence is deeply felt. Though Miriam’s nephew’s family is not affiliated with Chabad, his 17 cousins from his father’s side all are, which gave us a chance to observe a wide range of what it means to be “Chabad” in Australia.

The cousins’ parents are extremely religious, adhering to Chabad traditions in both appearance and practice. The men wear beards, long black coats, and black hats, while the women dress modestly. However, many of their children identify as what they call “Chabad Light.” These younger family members are often no longer outwardly or inwardly religious but still maintain a cultural connection to Chabad. Some are even dating secular partners yet continue to associate with Chabad in some capacity. Even those who remain outwardly religious live in a way that seems quite different from traditional Orthodoxy.

For example, during our stay, a minyan was held in the house with over a hundred people attending. Yet the experience was unlike any service I had been to before. Even before the prayers began, multiple bottles of whiskey were being passed around. By the time services started, the atmosphere was lively—one could say everyone was “spiritually” uplifted. It was also notably egalitarian, as the young women were just as involved as the young men.

This experience reminded me of a concept I had previously heard of: orthoprax. This term describes individuals who outwardly observe Orthodox practices but inwardly feel disconnected. However, my nephews explained that there is a new trend within Chabad that seems to be the opposite. These young people have abandoned many external aspects of Chabad—choosing Western-style clothing and lifestyles that sometimes starkly contrast their upbringing—yet they continue to maintain some form of connection to Chabad, however minimal.

It’s easy to criticize this departure from traditional norms and the abandonment of sacred rituals. Yet, I find myself grappling with a deeper question. In a world where assimilation is widespread and many Jews are losing their connection to Judaism, is it not better that these young men and women find a way to stay connected, even if it seems unconventional or contradictory? They still use their Jewish names, take pride in their heritage, and find joy in their identity.

While this approach may differ greatly from my own choices, I can’t help but admire the Chabad philosophy that seems to keep these young people tethered to their roots. Kudos must also go to their parents, who have chosen love and acceptance over rejection. Instead of casting their children aside for straying from traditional practices, they’ve withstood social pressures and embraced their children with open arms. This stands in stark contrast to the condemnation and alienation often faced by those who leave religious observance.

I’m sure these parents have endured immense struggles, soul-searching, and even guilt. Yet their choice to prioritize their children’s connection and well-being is inspiring. In reflecting on biblical narratives, we see many examples of parents grappling with their children’s choices. Abraham, for instance, wished to keep Ishmael within the family despite Sarah’s opposition. While Sarah ultimately succeeded in casting Ishmael out, Abraham’s compassion and kindness were never condemned.

In our post-October 7 world, I believe it’s more important than ever for Jews to recognize the value of every member of our community. Regardless of their level of observance, the simple desire to connect is meaningful. The tragic loss of so many lives at the Nova Festival has pierced the soul of every Jew. These young people may not have observed Shabbat or Jewish holidays, but their deaths remind us that every Jewish soul is precious.

It is easier, perhaps, to mourn their loss than to internalize the lesson: every Jew, regardless of practice or belief, is part of our family.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Jack Engel