Seidemann: The Kollel Argument

From the other side of the bench

by David Seidemann

Not once but twice, in recent weeks, I’ve encountered a situation where a father has claimed that he is financially unable to support his wife and children. No, he wasn’t in a dead-end job nor was he unemployed. In both instances, his excuse for not being able to support his soon-to-be ex-wife and their children was that he was learning in Kollel.

It is not my intention to debate the pros and cons of young married men learning the Talmud for a few years after they get married. Nor will I utilize this space to comment on whether these young men are actually spending their time learning. Perhaps Kollel should be reserved for those that demonstrate unyielding commitment to the demands of the program and for those that can financially afford to sit and learn without bankrupting present and future generations.

One has to wonder if the concept, as originally conceived, can continue for future generations. Who is going to support the children of the couple that is learning in Kollel when they decide they also want to learn in Kollel? The parents that are sitting and learning, unless they get a job, will not be in a position to support their children.

What really irked me this week was when a father wrote to the court that his wife, my client, was violating his religious freedom by forcing him to leave Kollel and seek employment in order to pay his child support obligations. There is something patently offensive about that.

In other cultures, the fathers simply deny being the father. In those instances the court simply orders DNA testing. But this new argument, what I call “The Kollel Argument,” defies logic and I can only hope is an anomaly that won’t be repeated.

Being reminded of our duties as fathers and husbands come at strange and unanticipated moments. When I first moved into this neighborhood approximately 10 years ago, one of my new neighbors approached me and asked, “What you do at 4:45 every morning?” I responded, “Like most people, I’m sleeping.” “Not anymore,” he said. For the next nine years, on an almost daily basis, I arose at 4:30 in the morning and joined a group of businessmen learning in what is called “The Morning Kollel” at Yeshiva Sh’or Yoshuv in Far Rockaway. Yes, I did miss a morning from time to time, but by and large I was a regular attendee learning Talmud under the direction of Rabbi Moshe Dov Stein. After Rabbi Stein’s unfortunate death, the daily learning continued under the direction of his son, Rabbi Tzvi Yaakov Stein, and Rabbi Binyamin Cherney.

Over the years, I’ve had the pleasure of learning with a few different study partners, most recently with a wonderful oncologist by the name of Dr. Michael Bashevkin. No matter how unproductive the rest of my day might be, the time I spend learning in the morning, while the rest of the world is sleeping, is exhilarating.

But something happened this past June, something I can’t put my finger on, that caused my attendance to lapse. I missed a day, then a week, then a month, then a month-and-a-half.

This past Shabbos while sitting at the table, I asked my 12-year-old daughter what type of man she wanted to marry. She told me that she wanted to marry a man with a job but who also went to yeshiva every morning to learn like I do. Those words pierced my heart. While I lay in bed the past month, sleeping at five o’clock in the morning, my daughter thought I was in yeshiva learning. I instantly felt the great divide that existed between who my daughter thought I was and who I actually am. I felt both ashamed and motivated.

This parenting thing is very complicated. We have a duty to raise our children and to guide them along the path that will ensure they be all that they can be. But we also have the same duty to make the most of ourselves: to be what our children believe us to be and act in accordance of their expectations.

So I got up in the wee hours of the morning yesterday, grabbed my Talmud that sat on the shelf for six weeks and made my way back to yeshiva. I am not naïve enough to believe that I will never miss another morning over the next few years. But now, I know how important it is for me to arise before the sun and how important it is for my children. We all need to be reminded how to be effective parents. Sometimes that lesson comes from our children.

David Seidemann is a partner with the law firm of Seidemann & Mermelstein. He can be reached at (718) 692-1013 and at ds@lawofficesm.com