Rabbi Max Drob and "Traditional Judaism" A Personal Retrospective
The following article, a biography of the author's grandfather, was originally published in Conservative Judaism, Volume 35, No. 3, Spring, 1987. Apart from the addition of photographs, it has been left in its original form. Click to enlarge each of the photographs. My grandfather, Rabbi Max Drob (1887-1959), belonged to the earliest generation of 'European-born, Americanized graduates of the Jewish Theological Seminary. As one of the original founders of United Synagogue (1913), President of the Rabbinical Assembly (1927-1929) and a member of the Board of Directors of the Seminary, Drob represented a commitment to what he called traditional, yet thoroughly modern, Judaism during the formative years of the Conservative movement. His career in the rabbinate, which spanned nearly fifty years in four major cities, serves as a testimony to the difficulties encountered by an American Jewish leader who attempted to forge a synthesis between Halakhic Judaism and modern life during the early part of this century. His failures, perhaps even as much as his considerable successes, can be instructive to those who, like myself, are attempting to achieve a similar synthesis in our own time. Life and Career Max Drob was born on September 23, 1887 in Mlawa, Poland. His father, Judah Idel (pictured at right), had descended from a long line of mitnagdic rabbis, and Drob was fond of recalling how his parents and childhood teachers were all very pious Jews who "observed even the minutiae of the Jewish Law."{1} In 1895 the family emigrated to America, but when Max was eight, his father died, leaving his mother to care for and support four children. Max was fortunate to be befriended by a number of his father's contemporaries. Abram Sachar (b. 1899), Chancellor of Brandeis University, recalls that in Drob's student days, he was one of the closest friends of Sachar's grandfather (himself a Torah scholar of some eminence) and the entire Sachar family.{2} Drob entered Columbia University in 1905. After flirting with a career in law, he began his studies at the Jewish Theological Seminary in 1907, working simultaneously on his B.A. and M.A. degrees at Columbia and the initial phase of his rabbinic training. It soon became apparent that he was a young man of prodigious talent; scholarly, devoted to Jewish law and an exceptionally gifted speaker, qualities that suited him well for the American pulpit. Drob was attracted to the Seminary both because of the greater financial opportunities open to "Seminary rabbis" {3} and the vision of Judaism promulgated by its president, Solomon Schechter, who combined qualities of East European piety with Western scholarship and sophistication. Schechter had a formative influence on Drob, who graduated as valedictorian of the ordination class of 1911, and who was soon to be described as "Schechter's favorite disciple.{4} Throughout his life, Rabbi Drob saw himself as promulgating a vision of traditional Judaism and Jewish scholarship in America that was true to Schechter's own spirit and vision. Simultaneous with his advanced studies at the seminary, Drob studied codes with Rabbi Jacob Widerwitz, from whom he eventually earned the traditional form of rabbinic ordination, semikhah. Simon Greenberg (currently a Vice Chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary) recalls hearing a story about Drob which was still circulating among students at the Seminary during the early 1920's, and which sheds some light on the modus vivendi of the Seminary rabbi.{5} Drob and a fellow student, Louis Epstein (1889-1949) came to their first meeting with Rabbi Widerwitz with clean-shaven faces. Widerwitz, who was himself the epitome of East European Yeshivah culture, took them aside, pinched the two pupils' cheeks and said, "Di meise darf hoben a bord" ("this story needs a beard"), a play on the Yiddish expression, "Di meise trukt shon a bord" (this story already grew a beard). The incident reveals that a Seminary student, orthodox in practice, but modern in appearance and outlook, would contrast sharply with the waves of orthodox immigrants who continued to stream into America. Drob was called to his first pulpit at Congregation Adath Jeshurun in Syracuse in 1911. Two years later he was called to Congregation Beth El in Buffalo where an installation ceremony and banquet held in his honor on November 2, 1913 included an address by Solomon Schechter, a sermon by Mordecai Kaplan, a program of classical as well as cantorial music and an elaborate menu featuring "Salmon Trout Morne." Beth El became a charter member of the United Synagogue, representing a combination of traditional observance and modern taste and decorum which was to become a hallmark of the Conservative movement. At Beth El, Drob defended traditional religious observance while at the same time speaking out on issues of political and contemporary significance. He declared that there was "no contradiction between Judaism and Americanism," worked toward the improvement of Jewish-Christian relations and urged the entry of the United States into World War 1. A fervent Zionist, he hoped for the establishment of a Jewish State in Palestine as an outcome of the first World War. In Buffalo, Drob met and married Miss Etta Schwartz with whom he had two children. Tragically, his wife died in 1919, and Drob, seeking to start life anew, decided to return to New York City where he took a pulpit at the Washington Heights Congregation in Manhattan, a fashionable synagogue at which the men appeared in top hats for Shabbat services. While in New York, Drob involved himself in community affairs and developed unique capacities as a fundraiser. In Washington Heights he served as chairman of committees which raised $100,000 for Keren Hayesod and $300,000 for relief of Jews displaced by World War 1. He was appointed to the Board of Directors of Jewish Theological Seminary in 1922 and two years later, when Cyrus Adler decided to take the bold step of inaugurating a national fundraising campaign for the Seminary, Drob was selected as the campaign chairman. The campaign was a resounding success; largely as a result of Drob's efforts, the goal of one million dollars was exceeded and the Seminary was able to commence construction of new facilities at its present location on 122nd Street in Manhattan. The following year Drob was elected president of the Rabbinical Assembly. According to Louis Finkelstein, who served as vice president under him, Drob was bitterly disappointed when Adler refused to allow him to continue his role in the Seminary's fundraising activities. Apparently, Adler, threatend by the emerging role and power of the Rabbinical Assembly, did not want its president, as it were, "to finance the Seminary and as such be president over him."{6} Max Drob's three-year tenure as president of the Rabbinical Assembly saw its consolidation as a professional organization with over 200 members. During his second year in office, the Assembly, seeking to elevate its scholarly standing, began publishing its Proceedings. It was also during that year, that the R.A. established, with Max Drob as its first chairman, the Committee on Jewish Law, which eventually evolved into the Conservative movement's Committee on Jewish Law and Standards.{7} As president of the Rabbinical Assembly, Max Drob took a special interest in the professional and financial security of its membership. He established a pension fund, revitalized the placement committee and championed the cause of the older rabbi whose career is cut short by congregations "clamoring for younger men." "The Jewish people," he said, should see to it that the men, who in their zeal for the Torah forget family and self, should at least be given the assurance that they shall never lack the bare necessities of life."{8} While in New York, Rabbi Drob met and married Dorothy Littenberg, the American-born daughter of the president of the Washington Heights Congregation. Dorothy became the devoted mother to his two children from his previous marriage and of two children of her own. Drob remained at the New York pulpit until 1927, when Congregation B'nai Jeshurun of Philadelphia invited him to take the pulpit of their newly-built synagogue in the fashionable Strawberry Mansion section of the city. Rabbi Drob, who always maintained a keen interest in finance, seemed to fit in well with his financially-minded, yet traditional, congregation. Simon Greenberg, who at the time served a sister congregation in Philadelphia, recalls that in addition to his talmudic erudition, "Max Drob was considered an expert in the stock market." "Then," says Greenberg, "came the crash. The congregation just collapsed." Homes were foreclosed and many congregants were forced to move from the area. Within a matter of months it was clear that B'nai Jeshurun could not support the rabbi's salary and by the end of 1929, Rabbi Drob was seeking a new job. Rabbi Drob returned to New York, where he helped build the Concourse Center of Israel in the Bronx into one of the premiere Conservative congregations in America. While at the Concourse Center, Drob served as president of the New York Board of Rabbis and chairman of the United Synagogue's committee on religious observance. In 1930 he was awarded an honorary Doctor of Divinity from the Jewish Theological Seminary, and in the following two decades was accorded numerous honors by JTS and other institutions, including the seminary's Schechter Award in 1950. Still, the 1930's and 40's were difficult times for Rabbi Drob, personally and financially. The membership of the Concourse Center became increasingly non-observant, a fact which greatly distressed him. His wife, who had injured her leg while in Philadelphia, remained incapacitated; his daughter developed a chronic illness; and his children, who were exposed to non-Jewish values in the public schools and non-observant Jews in the synagogue's Talmud Torah, moved increasingly away from Jewish tradition. In the late 1940's, the Concourse Center of Israel elected a board of trustees which ironically, given Drob's early championing of the cause of the older rabbi, "clamored for a younger, more modern man" to take his place. A bitter struggle ensued within the congregation and in 1949, at the age of 62, Max Drob was forced to accept an emeritus status which, according to those who knew him, disappointed him bitterly. Not wanting to leave the active ministry, Drob took a position as Jewish Chaplain for the state mental institution on Ward's island, where he remained until illness forced him to retire in 1957. Two years later he died, at the age of 71. "Traditional Judaism" Max Drob set forth his views on Judaism most forcefully in a paper he presented as part of a Forum at the 1929 Convention of the rabbinical Assembly.{9} His "A Reaffirmation of Traditional Judaism" along with his Presidential Messages{10} and several occasional publications provides a coherent picture of Max Drob as the most traditional of the major figures in the conservative movement of the 20's and 30's. For Drob, Judaism could neither be a worldview to be selected from among others nor a philosophy to he molded to fit one's individual needs. "The Judaism I profess," he wrote, ,is not of my making and not of my choosing ... If I am a Jew, it is therefore because of no mental processes or philosophic researches, but simply because God willed it..." This Judaism, according to Drob, is not only a birthright but a responsibility, and he held that with regard to Jewish custom, ritual and law, it was a Jew's Godgiven duty to retain, and learn to love the traditional forms.{11} While he welcomed, and even encouraged, differences in philosophical matters he bitterly opposed any efforts to violate "the uniformity of observance which has characterized the Jewish people throughout the ages."{12} Drob's own theology was very traditional. He was sharply critical of the view, originating with Mordecai Kaplan, that Jewish law is merely a manifestation of the "folkways of the Jewish people." He wrote: If I believed the laws of the Torah are not of divine origin, I would have been heartless if I urged men and women to make every conceivable sacrifice for observance of these laws merely because my oriental ancestors in a little corner of Asia promulgated that "way of life. To me that is mere "shintoism," the deification of our dead ancestral rites.{13} In 1925, after his election to the presidency of the Rabbinical Assembly. Drob refused to see himself as the leader of a new "Conservative" movement in Judaism, quoting Solomon Schechter's view that "the Seminary is not the center nor even the nucleus of a third party in Judaism."{14} Drob stated: Had I been asked to recast Judaism, I might have been tempted to create a Judaism different in many respects from tradition. Yet, on second thought, seeing the mess our Reform colleagues have made of their task, I believe that I would still prefer the cumulative wisdom of the ages to the snap judgment of the day.{15} In addition to opposing Mordecai Kaplan's cultural interpretation of the Jewish faith, Drob was an opponent of Kaplan's Jewish Center movement: Ten years ago ... we were told by one of the leading members of the Rabbinical Assembly that we must create centers to please the young. "If the young must dance, let them dance in the synagogue; if they must play, let them play in the synagogue; if they must swim, let them swim in the synagogue." Carrying out this reasoning if they must eat on Yom Kippur, let them eat in the kosher synagogue dining room.{16} Remarks such as these apparently made an impression on Kaplan, who felt he could find a common denominator with men like Finkelstein and Kohn, but not with Drob.{17} In spite of his polemics against Reform and Reconstructionism and his desire to prevent Conservatism from coalescing into a separate movement, Drob's relationship with Orthodoxy was not entirely unproblematic. While he professed accord with the Orthodoxy practiced in England and the "Modern Orthodoxy" promulgated by Samson Raphael Hirsch in Germany, he believed that Judaism in America should differ from the Orthodoxy practiced in Eastern Europe in several important respects. American Judaism should, he argued, pay careful attention to aesthetics and decorum, and it must be preached in English by "men who are masters of their congregations by virtue of their secular as well as their religious education.""' Though Drob acknowledged that "life has not stood still since the Torah was promulgated" and that certain changes were necessary in order to make Judaism compatible with contemporary life he differed from his colleagues in the methods he sanctioned for change. For Drob there were only two possible methods: "through interpretation by competent scholars, or through legislation by a duly constituted Sanhedrin." Only these methods would assure the unity.of the Jewish people. If ... we feel that certain laws like that regarding the agunah (for example) require revision, we are at liberty to do so if by examining the laws in question and by the accepted rules of interpretation we find them amenable to revision. Failing to find any such justification, we should be loyal enough to tradition to obey these laws, difficult as they may be, until "Catholic Israel" shall have legislated their revision.{19} Rabbi Drob followed Solomon Schechter by frequently appealing to the notion of "Catholic Israel," a term which Schechter used to describe the general will and practice of the entire Jewish people. Certain changes that seem innocent enough in themselves, Drob argued, were "catastrophic because they break the unity of Israel." He bemoaned the fact that certain changes in synagogue ritual meant "that Jews like Rabbi Kook of Palestine can no longer enter our synagogues and are barred from worshipping with us."{20} Rabbi Drob was quite prophetic in his warning that there would ultimately be a different Shulhan Arukh for each Conservative congregation. He was particularly opposed to the institution of changes in Jewish practice simply for purposes of convenience, or which violated the spirit of traditional Judaism. Thus, he was staunchly opposed to riding on the Sabbath,{21} organs and mixed choirs in the synagogue,{22} Jewish recognition of civil marriages,{23} and routine autopsies {24} The problem of the agunah {25} was a much more difficult issue for him. While he considered it within the jurisdiction of the Committee on Jewish Law of the Rabbinical Assembly to act on the problem, he felt handcuffed by his own doubts about the 1935 Epstein solution{26} and the vile denunciations its publication prompted from the Agudath ha-Rabbonim, a major organization of Orthodox rabbis. Drob apparently never resolved in his own mind the question of whether he, as a representative of the Rabbinical Assembly, could make a decision on an important matter of Jewish Law which would place him in conflict with Orthodox Jewry. Traditional Judaism, according to Max Drob, differs from East Euro- pean Orthodoxy in its attitude towards research and scientific truth. While he was skeptical of the merits of higher biblical criticism, which sees the Torah as a document which evolved over many centuries, he wrote "there is nothing in Judaism which it is afraid to subject to the most searching examination"{27} Accordingly: Traditional Judaism ... always square its beliefs and practices with truth. ... It does not, however, believe in squaring its beliefs with the "world outlook of the day." For that outlook may be false.{28} Rabbi Drob was particularly opposed to the tendency to create a Judaism which was designed or diluted for popular appeal. "If my observation counts for anything," he wrote in 1929, "those who want Judaism at all want the undiluted type."{29} At that time he attributed the fact that attendance at his synagogue was astonishingly high, not to his personal appeal but to his adherence to tradition.{30} He himself stated that "the basis of our attitude to Judaism is to be found in the amount of genuine love we have for the faith."{31} If we truly love Judaism, we will not try to throw out this prayer or that custom, but will interpret and embellish each line of the ancient faith. We will teach our congregations that it is we who need reforming rather than Judaism . . . {32} It is fitting and reflective of his life and career that Rabbi Drob, the fund-raiser and "expert on the stock market" should sum up his attitude toward Judaism in America with an analogy from the world of finance: I for one, do not propose to put a sign on Judaism reading "no reasonable offer refused." I do not care to act as a receiver in bankruptcy accepting a fifty percent settlement for the claims of religion. 33 The Man and His Times My grandfather died when I was seven years old. I remember him as an exceptionally warm and affectionate man whose greatest joy seemed to be seeing his grandchildren and showering us with gifts. I remember him lifting me up over his head when I was four or five, looking into my eyes and then turning to my father and saying "It skipped a generation." Only as an adult did I realize the poignancy of these words, when it became clear to me how far his own children had move away from the traditional Judaism he lived for. Others, of course, can describe his personality in clearer terms, and from those who knew him well, a fairly consistent picture emerges of a passionate man who was caught up in the turmoil of attempting to reconcile complete adherence to traditional Judaism with a great love for things American. Drob's attempt at this reconciliation was a valiant one. Simon Greenberg described him as a man who "always radiated a sense of energy, not in any way proud, but full of self-assurance." He wasn't the kind of man," says Greenberg, "who was pushed around by anyone or anything."{34} Yet in his later years, Louis Finkelstein observes, Drob was a highly emotional man who carried the weight of a number of disillusionments. Finkelstein recalls how Drob would complain bitterly and actually break into tears over the fact that his congregants at the Concourse Center would not keep the law as he deemed proper. According to Finkelstein, "Drob couldn't understand that he was hired by a Conservative, mostly non-observant, congregation who wanted the rabbi to be 'Orthodox' for them."{35} Still, in spite of his disappointments he was a man who maintained a rich sense of humor{36} and a philosophical perspective on life. One of his favorite expressions was, "If we all went to the marketplace hoping to exchange our troubles we'd each come home with our own. Max Drob had a remarkable ability to capture the spiritual essence of a person in language. His sermons and particularly his memorial addresses (two of which are preserved in the Proceedings of the Rabbinical Assembly{3l}) had a poetic eloquence which belied an unusual capacity to empathize with the suffering of others. Perhaps it was the difficulties in his own professional life that prompted him, after the untimely death of a colleague, to say: Unfortunately, his dream of serving his people as a rabbi was doomed to disillusionment. Too soon he discovered in this land a glib tongue and a sonorous voice are valued far above deep scholarship and genuine piety. He was heartbroken of this disregard of scholarship and could not bring himself to perform the antics of a pulpit entertainer and social mixer so often demanded of the rabbi.{38}. My grandfather certainly suffered his share of life's pains. The death of his father at age eight, the tragic death of his first wife and the serious chronic illnesses of his second wife and daughter all took their toll. He was also, as I have stated, terribly disillusioned with the state of Jewish observance in the congregations he served. In his later years this applied to his own family as well. It is intriguing to consider why Drob experienced the disillusionment of his own children moving away from traditional Judaism. Perhaps in part it was because of his own adamant unwillingness to compromise on matters of Jewish law. Still, I don't believe that his children's actions can be explained simply as a reaction to my grandfather's personality. Max Drob wanted his children to experience Judaism and America, each in what he thought of as their pure form. He sent his children to public school in a mixed neighborhood yet insisted that they attend Talmud Torah four days a week and be punctilious in their observance of the mitzvot. He exposed them to two worlds, was himself convinced that they were each worthwhile and compatible, but could not find his way to demonstrating this to the next generation. I do not think we can disparage men like my grandfather for having failed, in part, to transmit their vision of Judaism to the generation that followed them. While the vision of traditional Judaism which Max Drob had in the 1920's and 30's was and, I believe, still is fundamentally sound, it was extremely difficult for him to promulgate in the time and place in which he preached it. A clue for why this.should have been the case can be gleaned from Simon Greenberg's remarks about Drob's general demeanor: It was very important to him that he obtain the cultured refinement of an American, but still, he gave the impression that he had come here as an adolescent, that he hadn't grown up with baseball, basketball and tennis, that he got his basic qualities from Europe ... He looked and acted like he was from the Yeshivah world.{39} My father used to describe my grandfather to me this way: "He never spoke with an accent but if you looked at him you would have been sure that he would speak with one." These seemingly superficial remarks reveal one of the reasons for a generation's turning away from my grandfather and his vision. What did a man like Max Drob have to offer to those in his age who were at least as tempted by the lure of America as they were attached to the traditions of their ancient faith? Although he himself made a heroic effort to be both Jewish and American, he was a man whose very nature breathed "old world," a fact that became increasingly obvious to his children and their generation. While in 1908 Max Drob's Orthodox mentor could tell him that to be a rabbi to the new waves of Jewish immigrants he must look and dress more like an East European, something different was required to be a rabbi for these immigrant's children. My grandfather was essentially caught between two widely divergent generations: Max Drob, the modern, assimilated man of 1910 was far behind the time, and, one might say, "hopelessly European" by 1950. Today, in 1987, for a generation secure in its American identity yet cut off from traditional values, my grandfather's vision of integrating modern Americanism with halakhic Judaism may indeed be worth a second glance. I believe that those, like myself, who have taken that glance and been inspired by the vision, can proceed in our task wiser from an understanding of the difficulties Rabbi Drob encountered and stronger for the model of determination he continues to provide. NOTES Sanford Drob's books are Symbols of the Kabbalah and Kabbalistic Metaphors . If you entered this site via a search engine, and there are no "flash contents" on the left hand side of your screen, the site will function better if you click here and go directly to www.newkabbalah.com and follow the instructions at the bottom of your screen to either enter the site or load Flash 4, if you do not already have it. The Lurianic Kabbalah
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