By Aiden Harow, Senior Features Editor
As an out-of-towner at Yeshiva University, it’s easy to feel like the deck is stacked against you.
If you just rolled your eyes, I get it. Everyone is tired of hearing us complain about the inconvenient travel days that keep us from spending holidays with our families, having to find places to go for Shabbos because of the lack of on-campus programming on the majority of weeks, and the closure of school facilities on regular school days just because in-towners have gone home. We play our tiny violin into the void and move on with our lives because we’re used to it. We’re used to making sacrifices that in-towners would never even consider. We’re used to fighting tooth and nail to get even the smallest concessions. We’re used to being overlooked and underrepresented, with YU policy systematically, if unintentionally, making our lives a bit more difficult than those of our local peers. However, the latest slight against out-of-towners goes far beyond anything we’ve seen before, and, although we have learned to live with a lot, this is something we just cannot ignore.
When I first saw the academic calendar for 2024-2025, I immediately thought there must have been a mistake. Under the dates of October 7, 8, and 9 are the words “REMOTE INSTRUCTION – BEREN ONLY. IN-PERSON INSTRUCTION – WILF ONLY.” I laughed out loud. The discrepancy was so blatant it was comical. This, of course, means that if any out-of-towners want to go home for Rosh Hashanah they need to make a choice: miss a potentially disastrous three whole days of school, or fly home for chag, fly back to school for classes, and then fly home again just three days later.
Wilf immediately rallied against this, producing a petition with hundreds of names on it, inundating the deans with emails, and sending YSU President Sam Weinberg to negotiate with the administration on our behalf. We thought there was no way YU could possibly stand by this decision, that they were trying to get one over on us and, when faced with such massive backlash, would back away from a decision that was so obviously, offensively unfair.
But, YU did not concede. Instead, they doubled down.
In an email that was slightly condescending and wholly unsatisfying, YU confirmed that classes would, in fact, be in person for Wilf students on those dates, and provided two reasons why they “hope [we] will understand:” 1) Learning in person is superior to distance learning, especially in the context of Torah studies. 2) The Wilf campus, unlike the Beren campus, has the infrastructure required to provide “an uplifting and meaningful Rosh Hashanah” to all students.
The first reason I agree with. I experienced lengthy periods of Zoom “learning” in high school as a result of COVID-19, and wholeheartedly believe that learning in person is superior overall. This especially holds true for Limudei Kodesh. Chavrusas over the phone are difficult and do not come close to the learning quality afforded by sitting across from another student in a beit midrash. That doesn’t mean that exceptions can’t be made to allow people to be home with their families for the High Holidays, but the point does have merit.
The second argument, however, is rather more subtle, and carries with it an intricate bundle of implications that may well dictate the future of YU.
It is no accident that a specific point was made to emphasize the ability of the Wilf campus to house and feed students over Rosh Hashanah. Although the administration did not say it outright, they want us to stay. They want YU to embrace the capital ‘Y’ yeshiva identity, bringing its students together in a community similar to those found in yeshivas in Israel, a community that nobody would even consider leaving for an ‘In’ Shabbos let alone a major chag like Rosh Hashanah. They want to combat the apathy and derision that has plagued the YU community for decades, bringing the student body together in all of its diversity to celebrate one of the year’s most important holidays in a Torah environment with roshei yeshiva.
These are noble aspirations to be sure, the sentiment behind which I fully support. And yet, this initiative, however well-intentioned, was still ill-advised, sparking a wave of resentment amongst out-of-towners and pushing YU further away from what it strives to achieve. The administration miscalculated, and gravely so.
That is not to say that their goals are unattainable. I believe there is a future where YU can be, in many ways, a continuation of the amazing Israel experience many of us were lucky enough to have. However, for anyone with a finger on the pulse of the YU population, this initiative was doomed to fail for reasons related both to how YU chose to handle this specific situation as well as how YU has decided to approach its relationship with out-of-towners and the student body as a whole.
It is common knowledge that, for many, spending Shabbos and chag at YU is generally reserved for a special occasion or as a last resort option. During my first semester at YU, I had a class on Fridays, which made it difficult to go away for Shabbos, especially in the winter. I had heard that it was common for out-of-towners to stay in for Shabbos and was cautiously optimistic. After all, Shabbosim in yeshiva were some of the greatest highlights of my two years in Israel, full of singing, dancing, chaburot, board games, and bonding. What could be better than having those same opportunities with a cohort more than ten times the size? It didn’t take long for me to realize, though, that my optimism had been egregiously misplaced. After spending a Shabbos in YU, I quickly resolved to never stay in for a normal Shabbos again unless I had a large group of friends and ate every meal out.
Most weeks, Shabbos on Wilf, for lack of a better word, is dead. The campus becomes a ghost town, with every in-towner clearing out on Thursday afternoon and returning Monday morning, bringing with them those outlanders fortunate enough to receive an invite. Many of those who get left behind seek solace in meals with rebbeim or other friends who have nowhere else to go. Everyone else eats in the caf, home to middling food, divrei Torah of… varying quality, and tragic attempts at zemirot that are at best ignored and at worst scoffed at and talked over. After dinner, there is an ‘oneg’ with the RAs unfortunate enough to be on shift that week and after lunch, a shiur with the one rabbi on assignment who most people there are unfamiliar with. The experience is tolerable if you are lucky enough to have a few friends who end up stuck on campus as well. But, if you are alone, as I have been on a couple occasions, the only way to keep from staring at your watch and counting down the seconds until Shabbos is over is to nap away as much of the day as possible, using sleep as an escape from crushing boredom and empty time that seems to pass unbearably slowly.
I, and many others like me, learned quickly from my Shabbos experiences on campus, making sure to always have plans complete with multiple contingencies to save myself from getting stranded in the void that is Wilf on weekends. Shabbos on campus has become associated with boredom, loneliness, and desperation, and it is precisely these negative associations that both exacerbate YU’s Shabbos problem and restrict YU’s ability to do anything about it. Because to fix Shabbos would mean to convince people to stay in for Shabbos, and our trust in YU to provide programming worth staying for, on Shabbos or any other occasion, is fundamentally broken.
And so, looking for a way to keep the student body on campus for Rosh Hashanah, to spark the wave of spiritual growth and collective bonding that has long been missing from our community, YU turned to the one method that was sure to blow up in its face: coercion.
One of the foundational principles of a Torah lifestyle is treating others how you would want to be treated. Treat others with respect, and you will get respect in return. By making October 7, 8, and 9 in-person instruction days, YU failed to treat its out-of-towners with respect, creating significant consequences for those who choose to spend one of the year’s most important holidays with their families as a means to force us to buy into the new vision. Their strategy of choice: keep us on campus for a three day chag when we have no reason to believe it will be anything close to the “uplifting and meaningful Rosh Hashanah” the administration claims to offer.
Most students will choose not to stay, and those who do stay will not do so willingly, causing any gain in the quantity of Rosh Hashanah attendees to be offset by the sour taste left in the collective mouth of the student body, and, ultimately, pushing YU further away from its goal of mobilizing its population in service of a higher purpose.
There is an alternate reality where this plan could have worked. Instead of trying to clumsily rush an initiative of relatively seismic proportions to conclusion with a single stroke, YU could have turned to carrot instead of stick, rebuilding our trust in its ability to provide worthwhile Shabbos programming by investing in projects that would increase appeal and satisfaction. The classic babka and fruit kiddushes could be replaced a couple times a semester with cholent and poppers; special speakers, both from within and without the YU faculty, could be brought in to give shiurim and speak at meals; motzei Shabbos events like the incredibly successful Undergraduate Torah Studies (UTS) bowling trip could be scheduled more frequently. Any of these options, especially when coupled with a waived, or even reduced, price in meals, would act as a surefire draw for students who would otherwise need to scramble for somewhere else to go, students who, if shown that Shabbos at YU can be worth staying for, would almost certainly come back for more.
This new-and-improved Shabbos would only pick up momentum as time passes, creating a positive feedback loop wherein great programming would attract more students at an exponential rate. However, this would only act as a partial fix. There is a core issue with the YU community that no amount of programming can rectify, an issue that limits the impact any project can have on reversing the apathy and disdain felt by many towards UTS endeavors. This issue has lurked beneath the surface for decades, known by all but acknowledged by none: while enhancing campus life is a collective priority at most colleges, prompting effort and investment from all members of the community, in-towners at YU will always have one foot out.
Honestly, it makes sense. If my house was fifteen miles away instead of fifteen hundred, I can’t say that I would be on campus any more than absolutely necessary. That being said, it doesn’t change the unfortunate reality that has historically defined the split between those who live locally and those who live everywhere else: for us, for better or for worse, YU is our home. For them, it’s just a pitstop on the way back home for the weekend. Out-of-towners, whether by choice or by force, are more invested in YU’s future because we have to be. We are thrust into independence far from home, and rely on YU for support that those who don’t go more than a few days without a home cooked meal and their laundry done will never understand.
That is what makes the decision to keep class in person after Rosh Hashanah hurt so much more. YU is trying to keep out-of-towners in for chag because it relies on us just as much as we rely on it. The administration sees us as potential agents of positive change because we care, and is trying to keep us close for one of the year’s most important holidays. However, in doing so, it attached substantial repercussions for those of us who make the choice to capitalize on our incredibly limited opportunities to spend time with our families, and further highlighted the already glaring discrepancy between us and in-towners, who we will have to watch go home for chag and come back for class without any measure of inconvenience or consequence. YU, while it might be in the future, wasn’t ready for this hard of a push, and, unfortunately, might be further away than ever from the vision of its leadership and roshei yeshiva.
Therefore, after careful consideration, I have decided to go home for Rosh Hashanah and stay there through the break. If anyone in the administration is reading this and has a problem with that, just pretend I’m from Teaneck. That should do the trick.
Photo Credit: Shneur Agronin