Change is a very sensitive topic among observant Jews, in no small part because the most common attack on traditional Judaism is to use history to show how much Judaism has changed. Pointing out that what we do today is not necessarily the same as what we did in yesteryear invariably calls today’s practice and customs into question, undermining observant practice.

Orthodox Judaism is deeply resistant to change, and, ironically enough, also for historical reasons: Those who consciously “modernize” Judaism never endure past a few generations at the most. All non-observant strains of Judaism have proven to be term-limited. Observant Torah Judaism is the only form of Judaism that has stood the test of time and that persists intergenerationally. So it resists both change, and the assertion that there even is change!

And so, with the critical goal of preserving Torah Judaism into the future, observant Jews willfully pretend that nothing ever has changed – there are children’s coloring books showing the Jews leaving Egypt dressed like modern Chasidic Jews!

What is even more interesting (and hopefully less controversial) are not the changes themselves, but how they happen. Who makes things change in Jewish understanding, practice and customs?

We tend to imagine that Judaism has “leaders” and that these leaders are, of course, Rabbis (given that we don’t actually have an operating priest class, and there are no prophets or similar highly-visible change agents). Judaism has no formal hierarchy, in part because Jews are largely unwilling to defer to authority. “Every Israeli thinks he knows better than the Prime Minister” has been a running joke since Israel was founded – and the sentiment can be found going back to the Jews of the Exodus period!

Even among the most observant, Rabbinic leadership is ambiguous. Rabbis do not lead administrative bureaucracies and nobody thinks their rabbi should be in charge of collecting garbage or repairing roads. The only formal Jewish hierarchies that exist (like a Chief Rabbi position) were invented by non-Jewish governments in the United Kingdom and elsewhere in order to have a formal representative of the Jews in that country for political purposes.

And so it is not surprising that Rabbis do not – whether we like it or not – lead changes. Instead, Rabbis tend to be the conservative forces within Jewish communities, trying to stop, slow, or pause change that is promoted by others. Most influential Rabbis in Europe in the late 1930s publicly advised their communities to not panic and to stay put, that Hitler surely was not that bad, and it would all blow over.

Here is a less fraught example: Scotch whisky used to always be considered “kosher.” Then, 20 years ago, a friend of mine wrote a monograph showing that the halachic (Jewish Law) assumptions under which Scotch was always considered Kosher were, in fact, incorrect. He spent years sharing this monograph with various kashrut authorities, and being rejected by every one. And then, because his arguments were very solid and he refused to quit, cracks started to appear. One after another, various rabbis at kashrus authorities who first resisted the change, relented. They did so slowly, and through some sleight-of-hand in which they tried to avoid suggesting that their predecessors had in fact been wrong about something. But they did it. A great many observant Jews will not drink “sherried” scotches today, especially if it has been filled more than once. All due to one non-Rabbi’s work.

To this day, I have not seen any public recognition of my friend’s contribution to helping Jews select kosher whisky. We can only speculate why this is, but it is clear that, as mentioned at the beginning of this piece, the mere idea of admitting that something has changed is discomforting.

Nevertheless, kosher food is where Rabbis are generally most comfortable taking a leadership role: our religion makes it clear that everything we put into our bodies is subject to the law of the Torah, and the Rabbis are expert in all of the minutiae that correlate to this.

There are far more controversial issues at play. We are watching history being made now in Jerusalem, where a right-wing government minister, Ben-Gvir, has ascended the Temple Mount (closer to the site of the tabernacle, the Mikdash), and openly prayed. For thousands of years, this has been a Jewish dream. And for thousands of years we have not done so. That is a lot of inertia!

The Temple Mount is a large plaza, built by Herod, to make the Temple enormous. This plaza could fit no fewer than 140 tabernacles! Which means that less than 1% of the space of the Temple Mount is forbidden (under Jewish Law) to a Jew today who is ritually unfit to go on holy ground (which is all of us at present).

And yet, Rabbis have ruled that no Jew could go there. There is a sign over the entrance saying so – every Jew who ascends does so by walking under that sign. It is signed, paradoxically, by “The Chief Rabbinate of Israel.”

Now, this is all changing. Rabbis are starting to fold under the pressure of the logic of those who wish to ascend. More than this, they are conceding to the fact that tens of thousands of observant Jews (including Yours Truly) have ascended. Rabbis may not want to lead, but that does not mean that they like following. And they certainly do not want to be left entirely behind, as a major shift is taking place as it relates to this, the most holy place in the world. Nobody wants to be on the wrong side of history.

The very same thing happened when telephones came out. And then cell phones. And the internet. All were forbidden… until they weren’t. And then, aided by the swiftness of social pressure, the internet during Covid became effectively required across vast swaths of the observant populace.

The idea of educating girls in proper schools was another huge change that was led by an individual, Sarah Schenirer.  She was certainly influenced by early feminists and suffragists, and against enormous institutional and rabbinical resistance, she founded a school and then a movement.  We are in her debt.

In sum, big changes within Orthodox Judaism are typically led by ordinary people. The leadership, seeking to preserve the past and respect traditions, has always tended to move last.  

That does not mean that ordinary people are right, and Rabbis are wrong. Ordinary people are often subject to mob mentalities. Mobs usually make bad decisions, and never for the right reasons.  Mobs are fundamentally afraid and insecure, and they crave leadership – whether from a famous Rabbi or a Fauci. Most people do not really care what is right: they just want to be told what to do, so they can do it and tick the boxes. Covid exemplified the worst of both the madness of the mob, and, ultimately, the failure of all our leaders. I think it is safe to say that while some change is necessary, most change is actually bad. Having an institutional filter has, by and large, saved Judaism.

The Torah tells us that we cannot give up our free will to a mob or to a Rabbi. Leadership notwithstanding, we are commanded to have a personal and direct relationship with our Creator. Rabbis are guides and sounding boards, but they are not interlocutors. We are each individually responsible for our choices, with all the consequences that come from them.