YU In accord with an agreement reached 3 years ago, Rabbi Lamm's contract expired on June 30th and he announced his retirement as Chancellor and Rosh Yeshiva of Y.U. He has had an association with Y.U. for over 60 years as a student, faculty member, rosh yeshiva, president and chancellor. In the 6 page retirement letter he devoted four paragraphs to an apology for his inadequate handling of sex abuse charges in the 1980's.
In the Aleinu, mishtachavim is followed by modim, modim
as in thanks. But there is another meaning as well, one that holds the
key to real leadership and one upon which I reflect at this important
transition in my personal and professional life. Jacob’s blessing to his
son Judah, Yehudah, attah yodukha achekha (Gen. 49:8) literally means “Judah, your brothers will recognize you (as their leader).” However, the word yodukha, they will recognize you, is etymologically related to the word vidui,
confession and therefore teaches us that only those who can, like
Judah, confess, are those who can be acknowledged as real leaders.
And it is to this I turn as I contemplate my response to allegations
of abuse in the Yeshiva community. At the time that inappropriate
actions by individuals at Yeshiva were brought to my attention, I acted
in a way that I thought was correct, but which now seems ill conceived. I
understand better today than I did then that sometimes, when you think
you are doing good, your actions do not measure up. You think you are
helping, but you are not. You submit to momentary compassion in
according individuals the benefit of the doubt by not fully recognizing
what is before you, and in the process you lose the Promised Land. I
recognize now that when we make decisions we risk, however
inadvertently, the tragedy of receiving that calamitous report: tarof toraf Yosef,
“Joseph is devoured,” all our work is in vain, all we have put into our
children has the risk of being undone because of a few well
intentioned, but incorrect moves. And when that happens—one must do
teshuvah. So, I too must do teshuvah.
True character requires of me the courage to admit that, despite my
best intentions then, I now recognize that I was wrong. I am not
perfect; none of us is perfect. Each of us has failed, in one way or
another, in greater or lesser measure, to live by the highest standards
and ideals of our tradition — ethically, morally, halakhically. We must
never be so committed to justifying our past that we thereby threaten to
destroy our future. It is not an easy task. On the contrary, it is one
of the greatest trials of all, for it means sacrificing our very egos,
our reputations, even our identities. But we can and must do it. I must
do it, and having done so, contribute to the creation of a future that
is safer for innocents, and more ethically and halakhically correct.
Biblical Judah was big enough to admit that he was small. He
confesses a mistake. He can experience guilt and confront it creatively.
After the incident with Tamar, he does not offer any tortured
rationalizations to vindicate himself. He says simply and forthrightly: tzadkah mimmeni
(Gen. 38:26), she was right and I was wrong. And with that statement
Judah is transformed into a self-critical man of moral courage. He
concedes guilt. He knows that he is guilty with regard to Joseph, and
together with his brothers he says aval ashemim anachnu, “indeed,
we are guilty.” Pushed to the limits of the endurance of his
conscience, he rises to a new stature and achieves a moral greatness
that is irrefrangible and pellucid.
This is what I am modeh as I reflect on my tenure. Tzadkah mimmeni. I hope that those who came forth and others who put their trust in me will feel that faith vindicated and justified. Modeh ani.
One might think it appropriate to mark the formal end of a career in avodat ha-kodesh with the recitation of Havdalah, the blessing which marks the end of the sacred period of holy days. Yet my whole career in avodat ha-kodeh has been one of havdalah.