The Columbia History of Jews and Judaism in America

In a newspaper interview in 1912, Rabbi Leon Harrison (1866–1928) of the Reform congregation Temple Israel in St. Louis, declared that “Reform Judaism holds the future of American Judaism in its hands. . . . Under the conditions that prevail, orthodoxy [in America] is impossible.”¹ Several Orthodox rabbis and lay leaders of the mass immigration period, such as Rabbi Zalman J. Friederman (1865/66–1936) of Boston, shared a similar grim view regarding the future of Orthodoxy in America, although for different reasons.² This pessimistic outlook prevailed over several decades. For example, in a sermon published in 1946, Orthodox Rabbi Jacob D. Gordon wondered whether “there will, God forbid, come a time in which one will see the type of a real [i.e., Orthodox] Jew in a picture in chronicles or in an antique house.”³

The future of American Judaism and American Jews in general, and that of the Orthodox community in particular, has been and remains an issue of primary concern and interest for Jewish religious leaders, intellectuals, and scholars of American Judaism and Jewish life, and, although much less documented, rank-and-file Jews. This topic has been continuously discussed for over a century in various lectures, presentations, and sermons, as well as in texts, in both religious and nonreligious contexts and has been used as a platform for ongoing fundraising among numerous Jewish organizations for several decades.⁴

As far as the mostly pessimistic scenarios regarding the future of American Jewish Orthodoxy are concerned, this ongoing discussion is obviously tied to the ideological opinions of those relating to this topic, but also to the scholarly interest in American Orthodoxy, both directly and indirectly. These pessimistic scenarios are common among various Orthodox leaders no less than among their opponents and observers. The origins of this Orthodox self-perception regarding its uncertain survival in the future lay in this camp’s widespread historical outlook, according to which all Jews were traditional (i.e., in according to their understanding Orthodox) until the second half of the eighteenth century, and, within half a century (1800–1850), that number shrinking considerably. As a result of this quick and consequently most threatening development, Orthodoxy perceives itself as being in an ongoing struggle for its existence, and in order to exist its leaders developed various and at times different counterculture and enclave-culture strategies in order to survive.⁵

This chapter provides an overview of certain stages in the development of American Jewish Orthodoxy between 1824 and 1965, emphasizing several crossroads in which the perceived threat was that Orthodoxy is in a battle for its very survival. This discussion begins in 1824, the year in which Isaac Leeser (1806–1868) immigrated to America and the Reformed Society of Israelites was founded in Charleston, South Carolina—both landmark events in the history of Orthodoxy in America. Toward the mid-1960s it became evident that Orthodoxy survived all the pessimistic predictions, wishes, and prophecies regarding its probable disappearance, notwithstanding additional grim forecasts regarding its future that have appeared in later years, and therefore 1965 ends an era insofar as this article’s main theme in concerned.

I will highlight certain major themes and processes in the history of American Jewish Orthodoxy and the connections between these processes, including Orthodox perceptions of and attitudes toward America, the shift from Orthodoxy in America to American Orthodoxy, changing levels of openness and closeness, inclusion and seclusion, within Orthodoxy toward the surrounding Jewish and non-Jewish societies, as well as the development of certain subgroups within American Orthodoxy such as the Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) community. In addition, this essay indirectly addresses certain Orthodox perceptions and images regarding American society, culture, and religion and the strategies of survival Orthodox leaders created and implemented in this distinctive Jewish Diaspora. Understanding these perceptions, images, and strategies would shed light on why, despite all the aforementioned predictions, American Jewish Orthodoxy has not disappeared but rather emerged as a vibrant community within contemporary American Judaism.

During the colonial period strictly observant Jews settled in America. The Spanish-Portuguese congregations were traditional in nature and demanded adherence to certain publicly noticeable aspects of religious observance, such as Sabbath observance in the public sphere. However, conservative religious practice is not identical with Orthodoxy. Neither these congregations nor their members were Orthodox. Rather they were traditional. Another expression of their traditional outlook is the fact that they did not consciously recognize definitions, such as religious and secular, and certainly had no sense of denominational-theological differences within Judaism, which did not seem to exist in their world-view.⁶ This is in complete contrast to later developments within American Jewish religious trends, which were self-conscious of these definitions as well as the differences between them and other religious denominations.

Ethnic differences between Sephardi and Ashkenazi Jews in America created tensions in many congregations, some of which did result in a split into two congregations as early as the second decade of the eighteenth century. These splits were not ideologically or theologically motivated, but rather related to different customs, liturgy, and pronunciation of prayers that Jews wished to maintain.⁷ In sum, ethnic differences, just as strict observance, may characterize a group or a congregation as Orthodox only when it is accompanied by a self-conscious traditionalizing approach.

Isaac Leeser is arguably the first self-conscious Orthodox Jew in the New World who left a notable mark on American Jewish history.⁸ Leeser immigrated to America from a village in Westphalia in 1824 and settled in Richmond, Virginia. In 1829 he began to serve as a hazan at Congregation Mikveh Israel of Philadelphia and thus embarked upon a career as a preacher, educator, scholar, and author of numerous publications.⁹ Leeser, who was influenced by German Orthodox rabbis and leaders prior to his arrival in America, strongly advocated religious observance, devoted time to improve what he perceived as the low level of Jewish education in America, as well as communal activities such as charity and battling Christian missionaries’ efforts, and, most important, began to set forth the grounds for the future organized Orthodox response to Reform Judaism, which, at the time, was not yet an organized movement.¹⁰

A portion of Leeser’s response to acts of reform within American congregations and their dangers to the future of Judaism in America was directed at an unprecedented development, which took place toward the end of 1824, just a few months after Leeser immigrated. The Reformed Society of Israelites, formed in Charleston, South Carolina, in December 1824, represented the first ideologically motivated split within an American Jewish congregation. Led by Isaac Harby, a group of young members of Congregation K.K. Beth Elohim decided to set up the Reformed Society, which developed into another congregation, after leaders rejected their petition requesting certain changes within the synagogue service. This society disintegrated toward the end of the 1830s, nevertheless, it influenced the religious atmosphere in Beth Elohim and ultimately was a strong force in the reforms that took place at Beth Elohim during the early 1840s.¹¹ In a sermon at Philadelphia’s Shearith Israel Congregation in February 1841, Leeser denounced Reform Judaism and its potential danger to the future of the Jewish people.¹²

While the debates around the split in Charleston waned gradually after Beth Elohim became the Reform congregation and Shearith Israel the Orthodox split-off alternative, the first ordained rabbi arrived in America. Rabbi Abraham J. Rice (1802–1862), originally of Bavaria, an observant and staunch Orthodox Jew who studied at Orthodox academies in Fuerth and Wuerzburg and was ordained by Rabbis Abraham Bing (1752–1841) and Abraham B. Hamburger (1770–1850), immigrated in 1840 and settled in Baltimore.¹³

There are several similarities between Rice and Leeser. For example, they both targeted reforms as a major problem for the future of Judaism in general and in America specifically, and both understood the pressing need for weekly sermons in the English language, although for different reasons than contemporary Reform rabbis.¹⁴ But unlike Leeser, Rice chose a much stronger anti-Reform strategy. Furthermore, Rice opposed any association with Reform rabbis, such as Leeser’s idea in 1848 to establish, together with Rabbi Isaac M. Wise (1819–1900), a national assembly of rabbis. By 1849 Leeser and Wise understood that this idea would not materialize and blamed each other for this failure.¹⁵

The basic difference between Rice and Leeser lays in the fact that whereas the former “gloomily predicted the demise of Judaism in the United States and stressed the absolute incompatibility of the faith of Israel with the spirit of America,” Leeser, like another of his Orthodox contemporaries, Rabbi Morris Raphall (1798–1868), was willing to recognize the need to address the conditions of Jewish life in America with an understanding that certain modifications must be made within Orthodoxy for it to survive.¹⁶

Leeser and Rice were not the only Orthodox rabbis in mid-nineteenth-century America who perceived the religious reforms as a major threat to Judaism and had a pessimistic outlook on the future of “true” Judaism (i.e., Orthodoxy) in America. Another example is Rabbi Dr. Bernard Illowy (1812–1871), who immigrated to America in the early 1850s and for the next two decades served as a teacher, preacher, and rabbi in New York, Philadelphia, St. Louis, Syracuse, Baltimore, New Orleans, and Cincinnati.¹⁷

It is important to keep in mind the Jewish religious communal-congregational scene in order to understand these rabbis’ fears. They observed rapid changes in synagogue rituals within several congregations in the 1840s and 1850s, all of them leaning toward Reform.¹⁸ In addition, they experienced the arrival from Europe of several Reform rabbis and personalities associated with European Reform during these years, including Leo Merzbacher (1809–1856) between 1841 and 1843, Max Lilienthal (1815–1882) in 1845, Isaac M. Wise in 1846, and David Einhorn (1809–1879) in 1855, all of whom ultimately contributed, although primarily Wise, to the founding of the institutions of the Reform movement in America. As a result of this influx of Reform rabbis, local observers as well as others who visited America and were not part of the local scene, such as Israel J. Benjamin (1818–1864), predicted “that in the next generation Reform will gain the upper hand and that Judaism will be transformed.”¹⁹

This pessimistic outlook was shared by several leading European Orthodox rabbis, although for a slightly different reason. Upon receiving information about Jewish life in America in the 1840s–1860s, they concluded that a “true-believing” Orthodox Jew cannot conduct a religiously observant life in America, and therefore should not cross the Atlantic Ocean. These Orthodox rabbis pointed, in addition, to the potentially bad influences life in America would have on Orthodox Jews.²⁰

However, several additional Orthodox congregations developed in America starting in the mid-nineteenth century, such as Beth Hamedrash of New York, later known as Beth Hamedrash Hagadol, in 1852,²¹ and additional Orthodox rabbis arrived during these years. They created a small but firm stronghold for the Orthodox camp for a few decades, until new challenges arose, which, once again, led certain American rabbis and lay leaders to predict the possible demise of true Judaism in the New World.

As we have seen, various American Jewish personalities and observers in the mid-nineteenth century were pessimistic about the future of Orthodoxy in this land because of the expansion of Reform, the relatively small numbers of Orthodox Jews and congregations, and the fact that Orthodoxy was not organized as a movement. This outlook should have changed in the wake of the mass immigration from eastern and central Europe to America. But Orthodoxy faced new challenges, such as a new overflow of immigrants, and contemporary rabbis and lay leaders perceived this mass immigration as threatening Orthodoxy’s very existence. If one of the main fears of American Orthodoxy in the mid-nineteenth century was the small numbers of Orthodox Jews in America, during the mass immigration era these fears were replaced by contrasting ones that related to the massive numbers of Orthodox Jews in America.

A combination of limited economic opportunities, significant demographic growth throughout the nineteenth century, and changing political circumstances worsened the situation of Jews in central and eastern Europe. The economic-demographic problem, i.e., the struggle to make a living and to feed more mouths with the same resources, was the main and constant cause for immigration of around two and a half million Jews from central and eastern Europe to America between 1870 and 1924. Antisemitism and political circumstances served as a catalyst that advanced immigration on a local or state level. For example, the Kishinev pogroms in 1903 and 1905, and the internal economic crisis and persecutions in Romania in 1900, followed by the 1907 revolt of peasants in Romania, enhanced immigration from these areas.²²

The vast majority of east European Jews who left central and eastern Europe—over 80 percent—ended their long journey, which at times took several months, in America, and a significant portion of them settled in New York’s Lower East Side. Although this influx of Jewish immigrants began in 1870, it grew in vast numbers every year, starting in the second half of 1881. Similar to the immigration experience in general, these Jewish immigrants held strongly to certain ties of identity with their homelands, and, since many of them were Orthodox to some extent, their identity had a religious component. This religious identity served the immigrants as one of the only stable aspects while struggling for survival in a new, unknown, and therefore seemingly threatening environment and society.

The immigrants’ urge for homeland ties of identity expressed itself in the founding of hundreds of congregations (six hundred in 1910) based upon the immigrants’ local geographical origins,²³ similar in nature to the establishment of thousands (over two thousand in 1910) of aid and other societies, known as landsmanshaftn, which represented more than nine hundred European cities, towns, and villages that had a Jewish population.²⁴ This massive founding of congregations led to and was enhanced by the immigration of hundreds of Orthodox rabbis to America in general and specifically to New York.²⁵ Another expression of this identity was the hiring of renown cantors, such as Pinchas Minkovsky (1859–1924), Israel Michaelovsky, Yosele Rosenblatt (1880–1933), and, slightly later, Gershon Sirota (1874–1943), by affluent congregations for extremely high salaries, in relative terms.²⁶

However, unlike the Reform movement, which established itself organizationally in the 1870s—the Union of American Hebrew Congregations (1873) and the Hebrew Union College (1875)—the Orthodox were not organized in any way; numerous Orthodox Jews and congregations were established in New York, where the bulk of Orthodox Jews lived, but no general Orthodox movement or organization existed.

Several Orthodox rabbis and lay leaders who were already well situated in America saw this complete chaos as a serious threat to the future of Orthodoxy and sought to organize New York’s Orthodox congregations. They focused their initial efforts on trying to establish a central religious leadership that would unite New York’s Orthodox Jews, and then, while doing so, turned also to influence the religious-educational arena by creating a few institutions for the sake of the younger generations. These actions, they believed, would secure the future of Orthodoxy in America.

The first attempt of this organization was to appoint a chief rabbi for New York’s Orthodox Jews. This idea was raised toward the end of the 1870s, after Rabbi Abraham J. Ash (1813–1887) resigned as rabbi of the Beth Hamedrash Hagadol Congregation in New York. The leaders of Beth Hamedrash Hagadol approached Rabbi Meir L. Malbim (1809–1879), then in Odessa, but he declined. At the same time, several leading Orthodox congregations in New York set up the United Hebrew Orthodox Congregations, an organization that was to take a major role in future developments within New York’s Orthodoxy. Following Malbim’s refusal, this organization did not do much until the spring of 1887, when Rabbi Ash died. The United Hebrew Orthodox Congregations proceeded to approach several leading east European Orthodox rabbis offering them the job, but all of them rejected it. At the end of this process, which took a few months, they were left with two candidates, Rabbi Zvi H. Rabinovitch (circa 1847–1910), son of Rabbi Isaac E. Spektor (1817–1896) of Kovno, and Rabbi Jacob Joseph (1840/1–1902), who, since 1883, had served as an official preacher in Vilna’s Jewish community. Notwithstanding Rabinovitch’s clear advantage due to the massive support he received from leading east European rabbis, New York’s Orthodox congregations chose Rabbi Joseph.²⁷

The expectations of Rabbi Joseph were high and focused primarily on his centrality to organizing New York’s Orthodox Jewry. Ironically, the peak of Rabbi Joseph’s career in New York was within the first few months of his arrival, on July 7, 1888. A few weeks after his arrival, Joseph preached his first Sabbath sermon at Beth Hamedrash Hagadol, and Judah D. Eisenstein reported that thousands of people attended, way beyond the capacity of this synagogue; New York’s police had to intervene to maintain order. In October 1888 Rabbi Joseph announced new regulations for the Jewish poultry business in New York, attempting to standardize it in accordance with Orthodox requirements.²⁸ This organizational effort was to be funded by raising the price of meat and chickens. However, those involved in this business, as well as consumers who were requested to pay more for their meat and chickens, refused to abide by Joseph’s regulations and organized a mass meeting in January 1889 against “the imported rabbi.”

Ultimately, Rabbi Joseph failed to organize the kosher meat business, but this is not the only issue that explains his failure. In addition, his lack of success can be understood to issue from his sermons, which, although initially arousing nostalgic sentiments among New York’s immigrants, ceased over time to appeal to them, his illness, the fact that he was not the ideal choice for the position to begin with, internal criticism and the lack of acceptance of his authority by local Orthodox rabbis, external criticism by Jews representing other groups and ideologies, and the separation of church and state, all left Joseph without the means to force the implementation of his plans.²⁹

Joseph spent his last years as a sick man, and his family lived in growing poverty since they did not have any source of income. Rabbi Joseph died on July 28, 1902, and the riots that occurred during his funeral, attended by tens of thousands of Jews, clouded the guilt-driven attempt of New York’s Orthodox Jews to honor him for the last time, as partial compensation for the way they treated him during his life.³⁰

Other efforts were directed at the religious-educational sphere, under the assumption that if the Orthodox did not preserve Torah studies or produce leaders for the younger generations it would gradually disappear. In 1886 two Orthodox-oriented educational institutions were founded in New York: the Etz Hayim Yeshiva and the Jewish Theological Seminary of America. Although both associated with the Orthodox, they represented two contrasting approaches. The founders of Etz Hayim intended to create a religious enclave for younger children until the age of twelve or thirteen, based upon their perceived ideal models of yeshivas in eastern Europe. This model included only religious studies and a conscious attempt to block any possible influences of the surrounding American culture as well as any process of Americanization. For example, they excluded secular studies as well as learning the English language. They believed that this curriculum would save Orthodox children from assimilation in American society and thus save Orthodoxy. However, this institution remained marginal, and at the most hosted between one and two hundred pupils, which were a drop in the sea of thousands of immigrants’ children who opted for public schools or no schools at all.³¹

The Jewish Theological Seminary opened its doors in early January 1887. The main drive of the founders was to create a traditional institution for training rabbis, an alternative to the Reform movement and its rabbinical school in Cincinnati, the only one of its kind up until then in America. This act came in response to the famous nonkosher dinner in honor of the first graduates of the Hebrew Union College, known as the “treyfe banquet,” which took place in Cincinnati in July 1883, as well as the Pittsburgh Platform of the Reform movement, which was formulated in November 1885.³²

Unlike the Etz Hayim Yeshiva, the founders of the Jewish Theological Seminary had a much more favorable outlook regarding Jewish life in America. Overall, they recognized the potential advantages that America could offer and saw the problems of the Americanization process that Jewish youth was undergoing as an issue that needed to be addressed. The way to do so was to produce rabbis who were familiar with the immigrant’s challenges and experiences, were fluent in English, and yet abiding by Orthodox beliefs and ritual observance.³³

Notwithstanding the relatively liberal approach of the seminary in Orthodox terms, it was not banned by Orthodox Jews and rabbis. Rabbi Joseph supported this institution, and Rabbi Israel Kaplan (circa 1848–1917) sent his son Mordechai (1881–1983) to study at the seminary in 1893. In other words, it was accepted by many as a legitimate institution for Orthodox students who sought a rabbinic career, without disregarding the voices of some of its opponents in New York during the last decade of the nineteenth century.³⁴ This institution did not attract scores of students in its first fifteen years, and those few who graduated did so after studying for many more years than the original program anticipated. However, some of the rabbinical students at the seminary did attempt to create new religious attractions for the younger generation and founded temporary prayer gatherings on Sabbath. But these activities could not accommodate the massive numbers of youngsters living in the Lower East Side. Overall, the seminary was not a great success story during its first fifteen years and was, in fact, facing serious financial problems as the nineteenth century came to an end.

In 1897 a group of immigrant Orthodox rabbis and lay leaders founded the Rabbi Isaac Elhanan Yeshiva, later renamed the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary (RIETS), thus presenting another religious-educational institution that would solve the perceived serious problems Orthodoxy was facing. This yeshiva, designed for teenagers, those who completed their studies at Etz Hayim, and others, continued the anti-Americanization attitude of Etz Hayim. These rabbis and lay leaders wished to establish “an East European Yeshiva in American Soil.”³⁵ The founders and leaders of this institution made every effort to isolate secular and “American” influences, but the student body demanded certain secular studies and English classes. These demands resulted in ongoing tensions and clashes between the students and heads of RIETS in the first decade of the twentieth century, which harmed this institution’s reputation, drove some students to relocate to the Jewish Theological Seminary, and led to serious financial and other problems.³⁶

The existence of two quite different rabbinical seminaries within Orthodoxy, the seminary and RIETS, did not last for many years. A meeting of immigrant Orthodox rabbis that was scheduled, months in advance, for the end of July 1902, found them all attending Rabbi Joseph’s funeral, following which they convened and founded the “Union of Orthodox Rabbis of the United States and Canada,” known as Agudat Harabanim.³⁷

One of the first steps of this union, which took place in June 1904, was to publicly exclude graduates of the Jewish Theological Seminary as unfit to serve as Orthodox rabbis and to promote RIETS as the only legitimate institution for the training of Orthodox rabbis in America. However, this did not prevent a few Orthodox rabbis from sending their children to the seminary. For example, Rabbi Bernard Levinthal (1865–1952), one of the leaders of Agudat Harabanim and a leading protester against the seminary, allowed his son, Israel (1888–1982), to attend this institution a year or two later, met with Professor Solomon Schecter (1847–1915), then its president, and attended his son’s graduation ceremony.³⁸ It therefore seems as though this exclusion of the seminary was a political-organizational act more than one based upon ideological motives.

Both the seminary and RIETS underwent significant changes within the first twenty years of their establishment. In April 1902 Professor Solomon Schecter, a renown scholar of rabbinics who had, since 1890, taught talmudics and rabbinics at Cambridge University and became, in 1899, a professor at University College in London as well, arrived in New York and shortly thereafter assumed the role of president of the seminary. The expectations were very high,³⁹ some of them reminders of the expectations for Rabbi Joseph. Schecter changed the direction of this institution in various dimensions, primarily toward academization of Jewish studies. He replaced some the old-time teachers at the seminary with several personalities who held academic degrees, had gained reputations as scholars, and had undergone rabbinic training at yeshivas in Europe. Examples include Israel Friedlander (1876–1920), Louis Ginzberg (1873–1953), and Alexander Marx (1878–1953).⁴⁰ Although Schecter aimed to set a middle-of-the-road Judaism, the seminary remained Orthodox-oriented, and the only criticism that observant Jews could find with regard to Schecter’s observance was the fact that he carried an umbrella on rainy Sabbath days. The best proof for the seminary being acceptable to many Orthodox Jews was the fact that Orthodox students continued to enroll and attend this institution during Schecter’s years, and well beyond them,⁴¹ and that graduates of the seminary served as rabbis in Orthodox congregations.⁴² It should be noted that the unclear borders between Orthodoxy and Conservatism transcended these movements’ flagship educational institutions and existed among rank-and-file Orthodox and Conservative Jews until the mid-twentieth century.⁴³

The change in RIETS took place in 1915, following the appointment of Rabbi Dr. Bernard Revel (1885–1940) as its president.⁴⁴ Notwithstanding their hesitations and suspicions, several Agudat Harabanim rabbis understood that if this institution did not undergo a change, thus acknowledging that their segregationist approach could not sustain itself, it would cease to exist. Revel indeed made considerable changes within this institution and lived to be criticized for them by Agudat Harabanim in general and a few leading Orthodox rabbis in particular.⁴⁵

Notwithstanding the significant differences between these two institutions, they ultimately appeared to be close enough to consider merging. Two such attempts occurred: the first initiated by the Travis family, whom Revel married into toward the end of the second decade of the twentieth century, and the second in the mid-1920s.⁴⁶ Both ended unsuccessfully, but the discussions were serious. To be sure, all those involved were well aware of the differences between the two institutions, but the overall assumption was that they had much in common, enough to combine them and create one strong institution.

In addition to the institutional struggle and communal challenges, American Orthodoxy gradually found itself under a new theological attack, this time from within. Upon their arrival, immigrant Orthodox rabbis in America exerted considerable energies to delegitimize the Reform movement and followed in the footsteps of their predecessors Leeser and Rice in doing so. However, they were either unaware or unconscious of the rising status of a “modern heretic” from within, Mordecai Kaplan.

Kaplan grew up in an Orthodox family and studied at the Jewish Theological Seminary. In 1903, shortly after graduating, he accepted a six-year contract as a rabbi at Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun in the Yorkville neighborhood of New York City. During these years he developed severe criticisms of Orthodoxy in both the realms of beliefs and ritual practice. In 1909 Kaplan was relieved to leave the pulpit rabbinate and was therefore most grateful for Schecter’s offer that he serve as the head of the newly established Teacher’s Institute at the seminary. What is more important to our discussion is that during the mid-1910s Kaplan began to publicly voice his “heretical” opinions (from an Orthodox point of view) regarding Orthodoxy, at first verbally and later in written form as well.⁴⁷ Kaplan gradually disqualified much of what Orthodoxy stood for, and the ultimate expression of this act appears in his Judaism as a Civilization, which appeared in 1934.⁴⁸

The response of Orthodoxy’s religious leadership to this development was for years primarily one of denial in varying degrees.⁴⁹ Only in 1945, following the publication of a Sabbath Prayer Book by Kaplan, did they excommunicate him religiously, after defining him as a heretic.⁵⁰ However, even this act had no longstanding effect and was not honored even by some of those who participated in the ceremony.⁵¹ This ongoing lack of and finally weak and indecisive response to Kaplan further illustrates, from a different standpoint, American Orthodoxy’s situation in the mid-twentieth century.

The perceived challenges, problems, and threats that Orthodoxy was facing were reflected not only within its leadership. They were part and parcel of Jewish day-to-day life in America. Heavily populated areas of Jewish immigrants in New York, Chicago, and other major cities were exposed to various activities of Christian missionaries. Even though their success was rather limited in absolute numbers, their existence posed a threat and was perceived as a danger to the future of Jewish society in America. This is especially true within Orthodox circles, since the missionaries had a special interest in converting Orthodox Jews for various reasons.⁵² Orthodox leaders did not succeed in joining forces and agreeing on the nature of the threat, let alone the appropriate response to it.⁵³

In their attempt to survive in New York, immigrants were forced to choose between a job and certain aspects of religious observance. For example, the Jewish Sabbath was a working day, and a Jew who wished to observe it would find it hard if not impossible to find an employer, Jew or non-Jew, in the garment or textile business who would employ him while allowing this worker to be absent on Saturdays. Many observant or partially observant Jews did not want to work on the Sabbath, but they had no choice.⁵⁴ During these years many synagogues and congregations introduced a “working men’s minyan”—early prayer services on Saturday mornings—that would enable the attendees to get to work on time. This situation was one of the forces that led to the establishment of the Jewish Sabbath movement in the early twentieth century.⁵⁵

However, not all situations were such that observant Jews were forced to make a choice. In many other areas of life they chose out of free will to adopt a low level of observance, since they perceived it as contradicting the process of Americanization. In other words, strict observance and Americanization were polarized forces, and most immigrants favored Americanization. To be sure, this contradiction was not always a result of the reality, but rather of the immigrants’ perception of it, as well as their understanding of American society and culture. Finally, the separation of church and state had further implications regarding various aspects of Jewish religious observance, such as the religious status of men and women who married in civil ceremonies.⁵⁶

The decline in religious practice among Orthodox or Orthodox-oriented immigrants, which extended to areas such as the observance of dietary and family purity laws, was significant to the point that one scholar went so far as to doubt their very definition as Orthodox Jews.⁵⁷ Notwithstanding the resentment of Orthodox rabbis, this widespread phenomenon of nonobservant Orthodox Jews continued to prevail for several decades, long after the mass immigration ended, and continued as Jews relocated from the downtown neighborhoods to the surrounding boroughs and later to the suburbs.⁵⁸

As the mass immigration era came to a close, the conservative educational line of Agudat Harabanim and their vision regarding the way to preserve Orthodox Judaism in America did not prove successful. As we shall see, they were challenged from within by some of their contemporaries and their views did not gain popularity in many Orthodox congregations or among their congregants. In addition, the various existing practical versions of “flexible” Orthodoxy did not seem to have any guidelines, clear visions, or strategies that would help the rank-and-file Orthodox Jew successfully combine life in America with a committed version of Orthodox Judaism.

When considering all the processes and developments within American Orthodoxy during the mass immigration period, it is not surprising to find a host of Orthodox rabbis and observers who, in newspaper articles and rabbinic writings, predicted the demise of Orthodoxy in America. While these writers agreed about the future, they disagreed as to how quickly it would happen. One example is Gershon Miller, who as early as November 1888 argued that Orthodox Judaism in America continued to exist thanks only to the ongoing influx of immigrants, and “if the immigration should stop, Orthodox Judaism would cease [to exist] as well.” Ten years later he predicted that the Jewish nation in America would die a “moral death, the soul will burn and the body will continue to exist.” Additionally, Rabbis Gedalya Silverstone (1871/72–1944) and Zalman Friederman both expressed similar views based primarily upon the decline in observance among the immigrants’ children and the lack of locally trained Orthodox leaders.⁵⁹

Notwithstanding pessimistic predictions regarding the future of Orthodoxy in America, which should be seen within the context of a host of unfavorable contemporary accounts of the Reform and Conservative movements,⁶⁰ Orthodoxy did not disappear between the two world wars. During these years the bulk of American Orthodox Jews strove for what has been defined as “The ‘Reasonable’ Orthodox.”⁶¹ This trend was characterized by an ongoing attempt to settle the perceived tensions between Orthodoxy and life in America as well as to be part of mainstream American society. In the religious realm of life, these attempts were noticeable among rank-and-file Orthodox Jews who, like many other Jews, held a more flexible attitude toward certain aspects of Orthodox rituals: Some they changed and others they ceased to observe or observed to a far lesser degree.⁶²

In addition, during the interwar years Orthodox Jews strove to change certain religious institutions, such as the synagogue. These changes were perceived by contemporary Orthodox Jews as a necessity for Orthodox survival, without which Orthodoxy’s future in America might be in jeopardy. For example, New York’s Orthodox Jews built new synagogues during the interwar period. These included sanctuaries quite different from those of the Lower East Side, and prayers were conducted in a decorous manner. This followed the belief “that the typically un-decorous service threatened the future of an American Orthodoxy.” They were convinced that the indecorous manner of prayers in downtown synagogues drove the younger generation away from synagogue life.⁶³ Completely contradicting the view of many immigrant Orthodox rabbis, who saw great potential danger in “Americanizing” Orthodoxy’s institutions, these interwar Orthodox Jews understood “Americanizing” the synagogue to be the only hope for Orthodoxy in America.

Some of these changes were led by Orthodox rabbis including Leo Jung (1892–1987) and Joseph H. Lookstein (1902–1979), who added an ideological and theological framework according to which “Torah-true” Judaism and American values would not be perceived as counterforces, but rather as complementary, and that compromises in “nonessential customs” must be made “in order to maintain the essence of the laws.”⁶⁴

Jung, and those of his contemporaries with whom he saw eye to eye, were part of a major change that occurred within the American Orthodox rabbinate during the interwar years, which began with the founding of the Rabbinical Council of the Union of Orthodox Jewish Congregations in America in 1926 and ended with the establishment of the Rabbinical Council of America in 1935. These rabbis, mostly American born, raised, and educated, concluded that the approach of Agudat Harabanim was doomed to fail and that significant change was required. One major issue was the language of the sermons. As we have seen, Leeser promoted preaching in English as early as the mid-nineteenth century, and several Orthodox rabbis during this period and slightly after, such as Henry P. Mendes (1852–1937) and Bernard Drachman (1861–1945), adopted this approach.⁶⁵ However, during the mass immigration period they were outnumbered by immigrant Orthodox rabbis who opposed preaching in English and demanded that Orthodox rabbis preach in Yiddish. In the interwar years these older rabbis were joined by a new and forceful young generation who promoted a generational conflict within the immigrant Orthodox rabbinate.⁶⁶

This internal pressing need for change and reevaluation, accompanied by a feeling that Orthodoxy had no future in America, also expressed itself in Orthodox rabbis, such as Harry H. Epstein of Atlanta (1903–2003), who led their congregations to leave the Orthodox fold and join the Conservative movement.⁶⁷

These changes and tensions within American Orthodoxy, in addition to the ongoing lack of observance among Orthodox Jews, did not offer an optimistic future for American Orthodoxy. Furthermore, the Great Depression had a devastating effect on the Jewish community in general, and Orthodoxy was no exception. Synagogues, educational institutions, and other arenas of Jewish religious life all suffered from the drastic decrease of income of their consumers as well their changing patterns of consuming religious services.⁶⁸

Within this rather complex situation, which did not leave much optimism for the future, an alternative and rather conservative, demanding, exclusive, and segregating Orthodoxy arose gradually between the early 1920s and the mid-1940s. This new trend is best represented by four developments that occurred during these years, some simultaneously:

Although all four developed primarily within the greater New York area, and the personalities behind them shared certain common views regarding the changes that must be made within American Orthodoxy to ensure its survival, these institutions and individuals began to change the face of the movement starting in the second half of the 1940s, upon realizing the devastation of the Holocaust.

One such change in communal life was that leaders of segregating Orthodoxy called upon Orthodox rabbis, rank-and-file Jews, and congregations to stop accepting nonobservance or partial religious observance as legitimate. They voiced a clear demand that Orthodox Jews be devoted and consistent. This, they argued, was the only strategy that would secure the future of “Torah-true” Judaism in America.

Alongside their attempts to draw clear lines between Orthodoxy and Conservatism and minimize or possibly eliminate cooperation with either Conservative or Reform Jews, certain leaders of segregating Orthodoxy devoted considerable energy to setting clear internal-Orthodox boundaries between Haredim(= ultra-Orthodoxy) and Modern Orthodoxy.

Modern Orthodoxy developed gradually during the 1940s and 1950s and has since been associated with its then partially recognized leader, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (1903–1993).⁷³ While Haredim and Modern Orthodoxy share some values and beliefs, they differ significantly on others. For example, while agreeing with Haredi groups overall that Orthodoxy must maintain and insist on certain standards of observance, Modern Orthodoxy’s leadership differed ideologically by embracing secular studies and holding a more favorable outlook regarding the prospects of Jewish life in America.⁷⁴

Ironically, while this resurgence was happening within American Orthodoxy, several scholars of contemporary American Jewry, most notably Nathan Glazer (1923–) and Marshall Sklare (1921–1992), neglected Orthodoxy, assuming that its role in American Judaism had ended and its years were numbered.⁷⁵ This assertion was supported by statistical data from the mid-twentieth century, which pointed to the decline in numbers within Orthodoxy.⁷⁶

However, during the 1950s and early 1960s the resurgence and its impact on the character of American Orthodoxy gradually became apparent. The various components of the Haredi camp in America gained self-confidence, and their representatives did not hesitate to voice their beliefs, demands, and aspirations assertively and publicly. The appearance of the Jewish Observer in September 1963, sponsored by Agudath Israel of America, represents much of this process insofar as it voiced a clear, unfavorable opinion regarding Modern Orthodoxy—primarily Yeshiva University and its leaders, as well as Conservative and Reform Judaism.

That, in the mid-twentieth century, certain observers were sure the ever dying denomination was finally dead best explains their astonishment and insecure feelings in the mid-1960s when some of them realized the exact opposite had happened.⁷⁷ For example, in 1965 Rabbi Max Jonah Routtenberg (1909–1987), then the president of the Rabbinical Assembly of the Conservative movement, spoke about the unanticipated resurgence of Orthodoxy as a threat to Conservative Judaism in America. This helps explain why the morale in the Conservative movement was in decline in the mid-1960s, whereas its achievements and future prospects pointed to the contrary.⁷⁸ The aforementioned contrast between the decline of Orthodoxy on the one hand and its resurgence on the other hand exists also in the pioneering studies of Hasidic groups and neighborhoods, which appeared in the 1960s and early 1970s.⁷⁹ This resurgence also explains, as least in part, the rising scholarly attention that American Orthodoxy received starting in the mid-1960s.⁸⁰

Rabbi Stuart Rosenberg (1922–1990) of Toronto noted that “in a very real sense, the ‘fall and rise of Orthodoxy’ in this century has been one of the most spectacular phenomena of recent Jewish history.”⁸¹ The underlying assumption of his amazement regarding Orthodoxy and American Orthodoxy was that, by all accounts, it should have long since disappeared. It seems as though scholars of nineteenth-and twentieth-century American Judaism do not express the same sense of surprise when writing about the Conservative or Reform movements.

In clinical terms, death is an irreversible process. This process has certain indicators, and when they are traced the individual’s death is just a question of time, depending on access to medical technology that could prolong life as well as the will to do so. It seems as though several scholars of American Jewish history and life in the twentieth century, as well as non-or anti-Orthodox Jews, and many Orthodox rank-and-file Jews, religious or lay leaders, starting with Issac Leeser, had this clinical outlook with regard to Orthodox Judaism in America. In other words, they were convinced that the existence of certain indicators led to an irreversible process. As we have seen, in certain periods American Orthodoxy was characterized by a low level of observance, theological weakness, and a perceived absence of authoritative leadership, but it nevertheless did not disappear.

Some of these pessimistic predictions were based upon the wishes of Orthodoxy’s opponents, the rhetoric created by Orthodoxy, or an understanding that the existence of certain characteristics of Orthodoxy and Orthodox life are crucial to the point of life and death. But, the world is full of individuals who throughout their lives are in consistent fear of what they perceive as their impending death. Returning to the opening part of this essay, I argue that Orthodoxy’s survival is built in its very definition as an ever dying denomination. A denomination that has such a strong self-perception of being in an ongoing battle for survival would be bound to live under constant threat and consequently almost always feel its existence in the future to be uncertain. This is one of its primary driving forces to exist.

Be it as it may, since the mid-1960s there are many indications that American Orthodoxy is vibrant, thriving, and flourishing in both heavily Jewish populated areas such as greater New York and communities situated in America’s Jewish periphery, even though its actual size is not rising, and some say that it decreased in the last decade of the twentieth century. This is evident in various areas of religious life, such as the rising numbers of Jewish day schools, Chabad’s noticeable presence on academic campuses, and the growing involvement of Orthodox women in learning sacred texts, in congregational life, and their ongoing demands for greater recognition and legitimacy regarding their share in the religious experience.⁸² Nevertheless, almost all of Orthodoxy’s subgroups continue to carry the ethos of being in a consistent battle over their existence, even though they seem to be more secure than ever before in the New World.

I thank Richelle Budd Caplan, Jeffrey S. Gurock, Marc L. Raphael, Jonathan D. Sarna, and Chaim I. Waxman for their criticism, comments, and suggestions on earlier versions of this essay, as well as those participants in this project who were kind enough to share with me their knowledge and wisdom. Two essays served as a source of inspiration for both the title of this chapter and some of its observations. See Simon Rawidowicz’s (1897–1957) posthumously published article, “Israel: The Ever-Dying People,” Judaism 16.4 (1967): 423–33 (reprinted in Nahum N. Glatzer, ed., Studies in Jewish Thought [Philadelphia, 1974], 210–24, and in Simon Rawidowicz [Benjamin C. I. Ravid, ed.], State of Israel, Diaspora, and Jewish Continuity: Essays on the “Ever-Dying People” [Hanover, 1986], 53–64); Marshall Sklare (1921–1992), Observing America’s Jews, Jonathan D. Sarna, ed. (Hanover, 1993), 262–75.

1. “The American Judaism of the Future,” American Hebrew 91.13 (July 26, 1912): 338.

2. See, for example, Zalman J. Friederman, “She’erit Yisrael,” Haivri 7.39 (July 2, 1897): 2–3; first in a series of articles, reprinted in his Minhat Ya’acov (New York, 1901), starting 119 (in Hebrew).

3. Jacob D. Gordon, Dor Vedorshav (New York, 1946), 32 (Hebrew pagination).

4. Examples include Steven Bayme, ed., Facing the Future: Essays on Contemporary Jewish Life (Hoboken, 1989); Eugene Kohn, The Future of Judaism in America (New Rochelle, 1934); Jacob R. Marcus, The Future of American Jewry (Cincinnati, 1956); Marc L. Raphael, Judaism in America (New York, 2003), 115–135; David Sidorsky, ed., The Future of the Jewish Community in America (Philadelphia, 1973); Sklare, Observing America’s Jews, 262–75; Milton Steinberg, A Believing Jew (New York, 1951), 77–85.

5. See Jacob Katz, “Orthodoxy in Historical Perspective,” Studies in Contemporary Jewry 2 (1986): 3–17; Jacob Katz, Halacha in Straits: Obstacles to Orthodoxy at Its Inception (Jerusalem, 1992; Hebrew), especially 9–21; Moshe Samet, “The Beginnings of Orthodoxy,” Modern Judaism 8.3 (1988): 249–70; Emmanuel Sivan, “The Enclave Culture,” in Martin E. Marty and R. Scott Appleby, eds., Fundamentalisms Comprehended (Chicago, 1995), 1–69.

6. See Eli Faber, A Time for Planting: The First Migration, 1654–1820 (Baltimore, 1992), 66–70; Jacob R. Marcus, United States Jewry, 1776–1985, 4 vols. (Detroit, 1989), 1:265–72; Jacob R. Marcus, An Introduction to Early American Jewish History (Jerusalem, 1971; Hebrew), 60–82.

7. Faber, A Time for Planting, 58–66; Marcus, United States Jewry, 1:220–32.

8. To be sure, Leeser was not the first Orthodox Jew in America. Earlier examples include Jacob Mordecai, who devoted time to defend Orthodoxy from perceived dangers from within and without. See Emily Bingham, Mordecai: An Early American Family (New York, 2003), 110.

9. On his life and activities, see Lance J. Sussman, Isaac Leeser and the Making of American Judaism (Detroit, 1995).

10. See Jonathan D. Sarna, American Judaism: A History (New Haven, 2004), 76–82.

11. For a detailed account of this episode, see Michael A. Meyer, Response to Modernity: A History of the Reform Movement in Judaism (New York, 1988), 228–35.

12. Sussman, Isaac Leeser and the Making of American Judaism, 122.

13. On Rice, see I. Harold Shrafman, The First Rabbi: Origins of the Conflict Between Orthodox and Reform (Malibu, 1988); Israel Tabak, “Rabbi Abraham Rice of Baltimore,” Tradition 7.2 (1965): 100–21.

14. See Sharfman, The First Rabbi, 175–80; Sussman, Isaac Leeser and the Making of American Judaism, 51–80.

15. Sussman, Isaac Leeser and the Making of American Judaism, 169–70.

16. Hasia R. Diner, A Time for Gathering: The Second Migration, 1820–1880 (Baltimore, 1992), 122; Arthur Hertzberg, “‘Treifene Medina’: Learned Opposition to Emigration to the United States,” Proceedings of the Eighth World Congress of Jewish Studies (Jerusalem, 1984), 5.

17. Diner, A Time for Gathering, 122. On Illowy, see Irwin Lachoff, “Rabbi Bernard Illowy: Counter Reformer,” Southern Jewish History 5 (2002): 43–68; Moshe D. Sherman, “Bernard Illowy and Nineteenth-Century American Orthodoxy,” Ph.D. diss., Yeshiva University, 1991.

18. Although it should be noted that the differences between Reform and Orthodox congregations were unclear, and remained so, until the late 1870s. See, for example, Marc L. Raphael, “‘Our treasury is empty and our bank account is overdrawn’: Washington Hebrew Congregation, 1855–1872,” American Jewish History 84.2 (1996): 91–96.

19. Meyer, Response to Modernity, 252; Sarna, American Judaism, 101.

20. See Hertzberg, “Treifene Medina,” 2–5; Kimmy Caplan, Orthodoxy in the New World: Immigrant Rabbis and Preaching in America, 1881–1924 (Jerusalem, 2002; Hebrew), 83.

21. See Alfred A. Greenbaum, “The Early ‘Russian’ Congregation in America and Its Ethnic and Religious Setting,” American Jewish Historical Quarterly 62.2 (1972): 162–71.

22. See Salo W. Baron, The Russian Jew Under Tsars and Soviets (New York, 1987), 63–99, 205–25; Uriah Z. Engelman, The Rise of the Jew in the Western World: A Social and Economic History of the Jewish People of Europe (New York, 1944), 130–210; Simon Kuznets, “Immigration of Russian Jews to the United States: Background and Structure,” Perspectives in American History 9 (1975): 35–124; Gerald Sorin, A Time for Building: The Third Migration, 1880–1920 (Baltimore, 1992), 12–38; Shaul Stampfer, “The Geographic Background of East European Jewish Migration to the United States Before World War I,” in Ira A. Glazier and Luigi De Rosa, eds., Migration Across Time and Nations: Population Mobility in Historical Contexts (New York, 1986), 220–31.

23. The best source of information remains The Jewish Communal Register of New York City, 1917–1918 (New York, 1918). See also Sorin, A Time for Building, 97, 175–76.

24. See Nathan M. Kaganoff, “The Jewish Landsmanshaftn in New York City Before World War I,” American Jewish History 76.1 (1986): 56–67; Daniel Soyer, Jewish Immigrant Associations and American Identity in New York, 1880–1939 (Cambridge, 1997); Michael R. Weisser, A Brotherhood of Memory: Jewish Landsmanshaftn in the New World (New York, 1985).

25. The numbers vary between three and seven hundred. See Charles S. Bernheimer, “The American Jewish Minister and His Work,” Godey’s Magazine (1898): 311–14; Menachem Blondheim, “The Orthodox Rabbinate Discovers America: The Geography of the Mind,” in Miriam Eliav-Feldon, ed., Following Columbus: America, 1492–1992 (Jerusalem, 1996; Hebrew), 507; Arthur A. Goren, “Preaching American Jewish History: A Review Essay,” American Jewish History 79.4 (1990): 544–45.

26. See Kimmy Caplan, “In God We Trust: Salaries and Income of American Orthodox Rabbis, 1881–1924,” American Jewish History 86.1 (1998): 89–93; Jeffrey S. Gurock, American Jewish Orthodoxy in Historical Perspective (Hoboken, 1996), 78–79; Mark Slobin, Chosen Voices: The Story of the American Cantorate (Urbana, 1989), 51–77.

27. The best account of this episode remains Abraham J. Karp, “New York Chooses a Chief Rabbi,” Publications of the American Jewish Historical Society 44.3 (1955): 129–99. Additional aspects are raised in Kimmy Caplan, “Rabbi Jacob Joseph, New York’s Chief Rabbi: New Perspectives,” Hebrew Union College Annual 67 (1996; Hebrew section): 1–43.

28. On this business and its vast monetary turnover, see Harold P. Gastwirt, Fraud, Corruption, and Holiness: The Controversy Over the Supervision of Jewish Dietary Practice in New York City, 1881–1940 (Port Washington, 1974).

29. See Karp, “New York Chooses a Chief Rabbi,” 182–88; Caplan, “Rabbi Jacob Joseph,” 33–38.

30. See Leonard Dinnerstein, “The Funeral of Rabbi Jacob Joseph,” in David A. Gerber, ed., Antisemitism in American History (Urbana, 1986), 275–305. It should be noted that other cities, such as Kansas City, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, and St. Louis, had chief rabbis, some of them for extended periods.

31. See Jeffrey S. Gurock, The Men and Women of Yeshiva: Higher Education, Orthodoxy, and American Judaism (New York, 1988), 8–18.

32. On these two events, see Meyer, Response to Modernity, 263–70; Sarna, American Judaism, 144–50.

33. See Hasia Diner, “Like the Antelope and the Badger: The Founding and Early Years of the Jewish Theological Seminary, 1886–1902,” in Jack Wertheimer, ed., Tradition Renewed: A History of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 2 vols. (New York, 1997), 1:1–43.

34. See Gurock, American Jewish Orthodoxy in Historical Perspective, 103–17; Jeffrey S. Gurock and Jacob J. Schacter, A Modern Heretic and a Traditional Community: Mordecai M. Kaplan, Orthodoxy, and American Judaism (New York, 1997), 18–31; David Weinberg, “JTS and the ‘Dowtown’ Jews of New York at the Turn of the Century,” in Wertheimer, Tradition Renewed, 2:1–53.

35. Gurock, The Men and Women of Yeshiva, 18–43.

36. Ibid.

37. For a recent outline, see Moshe D. Sherman, Orthodox Judaism in America: A Biographical Dictionary and Sourcebook (Westport, 1996), 225–36.

38. See Kimmy Caplan, “The Life and Sermons of Rabbi Israel Herbert Levinthal (1888–1982),” American Jewish History 87.1 (1999): 5–6; Weinberg, “JTS and the ‘Downtown’ Jews,” 37–38.

39. Sarna, American Judaism, 187–88.

40. See Jonathan D. Sarna, “Two Traditions of Seminary Scholarship,” in Wertheimer, Tradition Renewed, 2:53–81; Mel Scult, “Schecter’s Seminary,” ibid., 1:45–103.

41. Aryeh Davidson, “Seminary Rabbinical Students: Who Attended and Why,” Wertheimer, Tradition Renewed, 1:447–50; Jeffrey S. Gurock, “Yeshiva Students at JTS,” ibid., 1:471–515.

42. See, for example, Jeffrey S. Gurock, When Harlem Was Jewish, 1870–1930 (New York, 1979), 134–35, 165–66.

43. Jeffrey S. Gurock, From Fluidity to Rigidity: The Religious Worlds of Conservative and Orthodox Jews in Twentieth-Century America(Ann Arbor, 1998).

44. The only biographical account of Revel remains Aaron Rothkoff, Bernard Revel: Builder of American Jewish Orthodoxy (Philadelphia, 1972).

45. Ibid., 135–58.

46. See Jeffrey S. Gurock, “Another Look at the Proposed Merger: Lay Perspectives on Yeshiva-Jewish Theological Seminary Relations in the 1920s,” in Yaakov Elman and Jeffrey S. Gurock, eds., Hazon Nahum: Studies in Jewish Law, Thought, and History Presented to Dr. Norman Lamm (New York, 1997), 729–43, and “An Orthodox Conspiracy Theory: The Travis Family, Bernard Revel, and the Jewish Theological Seminary,” Modern Judaism 19.3 (1999): 241–54; Aaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff, “The Attempt to Merge the Jewish Theological Seminary and Yeshiva College, 1926–27,” Michael 3 (1975): 254–81.

47. For a detailed account, see Gurock and Schacter, A Modern Heretic and a Traditional Community, 31–135.

48. Mordecai M. Kaplan, Judaism as a Civilization: Toward a Reconstruction of American-Jewish Life (New York, 1934), 133–70. In the first part of this book, Kaplan systematically analyzes the theological foundations of Reform, Orthodox, and Conservative Judaism and attempts to prove that all three approaches are inconsistent or illogical.

49. For the only attempt of the Jewish Theological Seminary’s faculty to fire Kaplan, which did not materialize, see Jack Wertheimer, “Kaplan vs. ‘the Great Do-Nothings’: The Inconclusive Battle over the New Haggadah,” Conservative Judaism 45.4 (1993): 20–38.

50. Religious excommunication consists of a series of socioreligious sanctions that the community is obliged to keep, such as not to include the one excommunicated in communal social and religious activities and not to eat in his or her home.

51. Gurock and Schacter, A Modern Heretic and a Traditional Community, 139–54.

52. See Yaakov Ariel, Evangelizing the Chosen People: Missions to the Jews in America, 1880–2000 (Chapel Hill, 2000), 9–77.

53. Gurock, American Jewish Orthodoxy in Historical Perspective, 135–81.

54. See, for example, Sorin, A Time for Building, 180; Chaim I. Waxman, “From Institutional Decay to Primary Day: American Orthodox Jewry Since World War II,” American Jewish History 91.3 (2005): 407–8.

55. Benjamin K. Hunnicutt, “The Jewish Sabbath Movement in the Early Twentieth Century,” American Jewish History 69.2 (1979): 196–226.

56. See Rod Glogower, “The Impact of the American Experience Upon Responsa Literature,” American Jewish History 69.2 (1979): 257–70.

57. See Charles S. Liebman, “Religion, Class, and Culture in American Jewish History,” Jewish Journal of Sociology 9.2 (1967): 227–32, and “Studying Orthodox Judaism in the United States: A Review Essay,” American Jewish History 80.3 (1990): 415–18. See also Sorin, A Time for Building, 180–81.

58. See Jeffrey S. Gurock, “Twentieth-Century American Orthodoxy’s Era of Non-Observance, 1900–1960,” Torah U-Madda Journal 9 (2000): 87–108.

59. See Gershon Miller, “Mikhtav MeZinzinati,” Hapisgah 1.9 (November 23, 1888; Hebrew): 3, and “Atidot Benei Yisrael Beamerikah,” Hapisgah 5.18 (February 18, 1898; Hebrew): 2–3, continuing in the following issues; Gedalya Silverstone, Meirat Einayim (Washington, DC, 1924; Hebrew), 19, and Peninim Yekarim, 3 vols. (Baltimore, 1915; Hebrew), 1:18–19; Friederman, “She’erit Yisrael.”

60. See Jeffrey S. Gurock’s “American Judaism Between the Two World Wars,” this volume.

61. Jenna Weissman Joselit, New York’s Jewish Jews: The Orthodox Community in the Interwar Years (Bloomington, 1990), 1–25.

62. See, among others, Gurock, From Fluidity to Rigidity, and “Twentieth-Century American Orthodoxy’s Era of Non-Observance”; Henry L. Feingold, A Time for Searching: Entering the Mainstream, 1920–1945 (Baltimore, 1992), 106–7; Jenna Weissman Joselit, The Wonders of America: Reinventing Jewish Culture, 1880–1950 (New York, 1994), 9–55.

63. Joselit, New York’s Jewish Jews, 36–37.

64. Ibid., 68–71; Mark K. Bauman, Harry H. Epstein and the Rabbinate as Conduit of Change (London, 1994), 47–48, 51.

65. See Gurock, American Jewish Orthodoxy in Historical Perspective, 201–33.

66. See Louis Bernstein, Challenge and Mission: The Emergence of the English-Speaking Orthodox Rabbinate (New York, 1982).

67. See Bauman, Harry H. Epstein, 43–58, 106–12.

68. See Beth S. Wenger, New York Jews and the Great Depression: Uncertain Promise (New Haven, 1996), 88–9, 177–8, 184–5, 188.

69. See William B. Helmreich, The World of the Yeshiva: An Intimate Portrait of Orthodox Jewry, augmented ed. (Hoboken, 2000), 18–52; Yoel Finkelman, “Haredi Isolation in Changing Environments: A Case Study in Yeshiva Immigration,” Modern Judaism 22.1 (2002): 61–83.

70. See Sarna, American Judaism, 293–300. Others include Bobov, Skver, Talin, and Zanz.

71. See Steven M. Lowenstein, Frankfurt on the Hudson: The German-Jewish Community of Washington Heights, 1933–1983: Its Structure and Culture (Detroit, 1989), 22–57.

72. See Sarna, American Judaism, 228–30.

73. On his early years in America, see Seth Farber, An American Orthodox Dreamer: Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik and Boston’s Maimonides School (Hanover, 2004).

74. On the differences between them, see Charles Liebman, “Orthodoxy in American Jewish Life,” American Jewish Year Book 66 (1965): 48–84; Marc L. Raphael, Profiles in American Judaism: The Reform, Conservative, Orthodox, and Reconstructionist Traditions in Historical Perspective (San Francisco, 1984), 155–65, and Judaism in America, 133–34.

75. See Benny Kraut, “American Judaism: An Appreciative Critical Appraisal,” American Jewish History 77.2 (1987): 220–25; Marshall Sklare, Conservative Judaism: An American Religious Movement (Glencoe, IL, 1955), 43, 73.

76. See Sarna, American Judaism, 278.

77. See Raphael, Judaism in America, 67.

78. See Abraham J. Karp, “The Conservative Rabbi—‘Dissatisfied But Not Unhappy,’” American Jewish Archives 35.2 (1983): 241.

79. See Gershon Kranzler, Williamsburg: A Jewish Community in Transition (New York, 1961); Solomon Poll, The Hasidic Community of Williamsburg (New York, 1962); Israel Rubin, Satmar: An Island in the City (Chicago, 1972).

80. Most notably a series of articles by Charles Liebman. See, in chronological order, “Orthodoxy in Nineteenth Century America,” Tradition 7.2 (1964): 132–41; “A Sociological Analysis of Contemporary Orthodoxy,” Judaism 13.3 (1964): 285–305; “Orthodoxy in American Jewish Life,” 21–99; “Religion, Class, and Culture in American Jewish History.”

81. Stuart E. Rosenberg, The Real Jewish World: A Rabbi’s Second Thoughts (New York, 1984), 93.

82. See Raphael, Judaism in America, 67–68; Sarna, American Judaism, 326–28, 343–55; Waxman, “From Institutional Decay to Primary Day,” 405–22.