From Ha'aretz:
… Three times over the last three years, [Lakewood] yeshiva leaders have lent their names to bans on books published by writers from Lakewood or elsewhere within the ultra-Orthodox world. Each book had crossed a different boundary, tested different waters. One book, co-written by scholar and writer Rabbi Yosef Reinman, who lives in Lakewood, recorded a sharp but ultimately friendly polemic with Reform leader Rabbi Ammiel Hirsch. It was banned, and Reinman was forced to apologize and cancel a book tour, because it violated the ultra-Orthodox taboo against dialogue with official representatives of non-Orthodox Jewish movements. Rabbi Matisyahu Salomon, Lakewood's popular mashgiach ruchani (spiritual supervisor, whose role is to lecture and advise students on their path to spiritual growth), a friend and ally of Reinman who had initially supported the book, was forced to recant his support as well.
Another book, "ZooTorah" by Rabbi Nissan Slifkan, was banned, in Lakewood and elsewhere, because, relying on earlier accepted authorities, it presented biological evolution as a legitimate possibility and argued that the pronouncements of Talmudic sages on scientific subjects need not be considered authoritative. Yet another banned volume, "The Making of a Gadol" by Rabbi Natan Kamenetsky, offered a detailed and intimate account of the relationships between various gedolim, or sages, in pre-war Lithuania, including anecdotes about rivalries and frictions between Torah greats. In a world where the Torah sages of earlier generations have been raised to the level of virtual infallibility, this kind of disclosure was considered threatening and unacceptable. The bans, I was told, were the result of pressure exerted on the ultra-Orthodox leadership by purists in Israel, who found allies within the Lakewood community itself. "The leadership is aware that it is walking a tightrope," I was told by one Lakewood intellectual, whose shelves hold books on Biblical archaeology and the latest scientific theories. "There are many different layers to the Haredi community. Here in Lakewood you have a community with thousands of people but no TV, no radio, no free press, and no magazines. Some people are very sophisticated intellectually - for them that won't work. But other people need the insularity - they couldn't handle things that might undermine their faith. So how do you balance a sophisticated worldview with the need to keep things under wraps? This balancing act requires a certain amount of control, to protect the general public from harm. One result of this is that you don't have the checks and balances you need. It would be healthy for the Haredi world to have more freedom of press to check the unlimited power of the leadership. But a totally free press - you can't have it. So you have an official line, and reality, and they balance each other out."
Another Lakewood scholar, who considers himself a moderate, told me that people like him have to learn to express themselves with caution. "There is a certain amount of intimidation. If you get a groundswell of people against you, calling you a kofer (a heretic), it can be a problem."
Youth in crisis
Ideology is only one area in which the leaders are being called upon to make fine-tuned decisions, balancing the needs of different segments of the community. An even more urgent challenge is developing a strategy to deal with the increasing number of Lakewood teenagers in rebellion against the strict ethos of the society in which they grew up. Some fall into a pattern of drug or alcohol abuse.
Chaim Abibi is the founder and director of The Minyan, a gathering place for marginal Lakewood teenagers where they can come to pray, hear a Torah class, or hang out - even if they are wearing jeans and have a tattoo on their forearm. These teenage dropouts from the strictures of Haredi life, a well known phenomenon in Israeli ultra-Orthodox society, are a burgeoning problem in Lakewood today, he says: "These kids come from every kind of family - they're the children of rosh yeshivas [heads of yeshiva] as well as kids from ba'alei teshuva [newly religious] homes or divorced families."
One longtime Lakewood resident comments, "The problem of marginalized kids is a volcano waiting to erupt." In some cases, the demand of total dedication to Torah learning that the system has long promoted can itself create the conditions for rebellion. "The problem is with people who are living this life not because they want to, but because of social pressure," a prominent Lakewood rabbi told me. "If the children feel the parents are trapped in this poverty-stricken kollel life they really don't like, then there will be trouble."
Increasingly, Lakewood's yeshiva heads are being called upon to decide between those factions within the yeshiva that are pressing them to wield a strong hand against any signs of disaffection and those who believe that the community must find a place for those who are unable to adapt to its regimented way of life. One flashpoint is Lakewood's kosher pizza shop, where on Saturday nights teenagers gather to sip sodas and ogle the teenage girls. The extremist factions have demanded that the pizza shop be closed, or at least limited to take-out orders, but advocates for the disenfranchised youths have so far successfully argued that if the shop is closed, the teenagers will hit the pool halls or bowling alleys, outside the reach of the Jewish community.
Most observers agree that one of the roots of the problem are the elementary and high schools, run by Lakewood alumni, which have become increasingly elitist and regimented in their approach. Children with learning disabilities, or who are just not potential talmudic stars, are often shunted aside, and there is little emphasis on individual expression.…
The answer for many of the schools has been to become even more selective. Dozens of prospective high school students, boys and girls, have been left stranded, without a school this year, and even gentile real estate agents have begun warning house-hunters that they'd better line up a school for their children before they buy in the community. And some of the prejudices that have haunted the Israeli Haredi world are finally hitting Lakewood - one prominent high school for girls which for years admitted students of Mizrahi (Middle Eastern) origin has now changed its policy and announced it will admit only Ashkenazim.
The delicate web of relationships between the yeshiva and the town can create murky - and potentially explosive - situations. Josh (not his real name) grew up in a family shaped by Lakewood ideals. His father taught in a Lakewood satellite yeshiva, and five of his siblings live in Lakewood, where they either study in the yeshiva or help support a husband who does. Josh was the family's black sheep; he was thrown out of several ultra-Orthodox high schools because of disciplinary problems. Two years ago, at the age of 20, Josh moved to Lakewood in order to work in one of the dozens of new businesses serving the expanding population. He was in an unstable period in his life, eventually quit his job and spent most of the day in his room, where he was often visited by a friend - the grandson of one of Lakewood's yeshiva heads.
They would watch videos and smoke marijuana - provided, Josh told me, by the friend - until one day Josh got a caller ID-blocked call on his cell phone. "I have a message for you from Rabbi Schenkolewski," the voice at the other end of the line said. Josh immediately recognized the name. Yisroel Schenkolewski is a Lakewood-ordained rabbi, founder of a yeshiva high school for girls that serves the Lakewood community, a chaplain in the Lakewood police force, and a self-described askan or political activist, who works to advance the interests of the yeshiva community within Lakewood city politics.
"You're not wanted in Lakewood anymore," Josh was told. "You're corrupting one of the rosh yeshiva's kids. You should get out of town. And by the way," the caller added in a friendly and concerned tone, "I'd be very careful, because there are some hotheads here that want to break your bones." According to Josh, it was unclear whether Rabbi Schenkolewsi himself was behind the threat of violence. Enraged, Josh called Rabbi Schenkolewski and demanded to know how he could advise someone to leave Lakewood without even speaking to them directly and finding out what their situation was. Schenkolewski, Josh says, was unrepentant.
Reached by Haaretz, Rabbi Schenkolewski denied ever having issued a physical threat. Nor, he said, would he deliver a hostile message except in person. He did, however, confirm the essence of the story. "Have I ever told people to leave town, people who I thought were hurting the community?" Rabbi Schenkolewski asked. "Yes, I certainly have."…