by Rabbi Yisrael Rutman

The news of a Jewish boxer, one who is also an Orthodox rabbinical student, landed on me a couple of weeks ago. Not like a knockout right hook, but say, like a jab; not enough to really hurt, but enough to sting a little.

At first, I thought it was something that could pass without comment, at least from me. Unheard of until recently despite an impressive, undefeated career of 27 victories, Yuri Foreman’s capture of the WBA super welterweight crown on November 17th means that he has become a “somebody,” who has fought and earned his place in the annals of a violent sport.

Actually, there are a few things to be said about the Foreman phenomenon. First, some biography: Foreman took up the art of self-defense as a kid in Belarus, in retaliation for the bullying he was subjected to at a local swimming pool. After emigrating to Israel when he was 11, Foreman resumed boxing. His spiritual quest began about five years ago, and he started rabbinical studies about a year and a half ago. More recently, he has taken up residence in Brooklyn.

Foreman’s statement right after winning the title says a lot: “I have been dreaming about this since childhood. I am very, very proud to do this for Israel and Brooklyn and to show that Jews can fight.”

This, of course, is nonsense. Such proofs are hardly necessary. After sixty-one years of fighting for their survival, Israelis have long proven, to the world’s unrelenting protests, that Jews can fight. Furthermore, it is not as if Foreman is the first successful Jewish boxer. In the first half of the last century, in the 30′s in particular, when poor Jewish immigrants looked for ways to make it in American society, a number of them made it in boxing. Bennie Leonard, Barnie Ross, Maxie Rosenbloom, among others, were famous champions in their day, heroes to the little Jewish boys getting bullied on New York’s rough streets.

No. The interesting question here is Foreman’s parallel religious interest. While the stereotype of the weak, fearful ghetto Jew has been largely expunged by the Israeli military, the stereotype of the weak, fearful rabbinical student persists. Talmudist and pugilist are thought to be antonyms. Foreman is often asked about this, but he parries any contradiction. Sometimes he says that his studies ease the physical stress of training; other times he describes it as a parallel set of challenges, “multi-tasking.” “It just shows that you can do many things,” says Foreman. “You can be a world champion and you can be a rabbi,” he said. “You can be multi-tasking, you don’t have to follow the stereotypes.”

It’s a clever reply, which side-steps a real contradiction. Jewish law forbids hitting, except in self-defense. To make a career of beating up on other people is, to say the least, problematic for an observant Jew. Putting oneself in dangerous situations is likewise something a Jew is not supposed to do, if it can be avoided.
Foreman has said his goal is “not to injure himself or his opponent, but to win by outscoring competitors.” This proves that Jewish boxers can be disingenuous. Reuters described how Foreman won his title by outpointing his opponent—”bludgeoning Santos to the floor late in the second round and again dropping the Puerto Rican with a right hand in the final round.” Foreman himself sustained a cut over his left eye requiring eighteen stitches.

Shabbat observance is also an issue. Foreman tries to avoid desecrating the Sabbath. If a match must be scheduled for that day, he finds accomodations within walking distance of the arena, so he won’t have to ride anywhere. However, drawing blood is also forbidden on Shabbat, as are turning on a tv to watch a fight, buying and selling tickets, and the traveling to and from the arena by his fellow Jews.

The Foreman quote I like best is the following: “Boxing is my job, and I started boxing before I started to become a rabbi. Boxing is something I probably would not advise yeshiva students to do; but this is what I do.”

Yuri Foreman is what is known as a ba’al teshuva, a returnee to Jewish tradition. There is a natural tendency, once a person has discovered the exciting truth of what it means to be Jewish, to want to change his life overnight; kasher his kitchen, give up his girlfriend, quit his job, say goodbye to everything of his former life, and move into yeshiva. Such precipitous moves are to be discouraged in favor of a more gradual process. The changes entailed are profound, and take time for adjustment. The model for this approach is the way that God himself introduced the Jewish people to the Torah. Before the revelation at Sinai, there was the tradition begun by Abraham, the deliverance prophecies of Aharon and then Moses, the giving of the commandments of Shabbat while still in Egypt, the ten plagues that lasted for a year, the splitting of the sea, and then three days of preparation just prior to hearing the voice of God and the Ten Commandments.

In any event, it would be foolish to ask Yuri Foreman to hang up his boxing gloves today and part with his lifelong dream. He is not ready for such a move. In the meantime, he is doing his best to balance a traditional Jewish life with the demands of boxing. It is not a matter of multi-tasking or breaking down stereotypes. It is about a Jewish boy who decided long ago not to be bullied anymore. That dream has been fulfilled. Another dream, that of living an authentic Jewish life, awaits its fuller realization.

That he will do in his own good time. No one will bully him into it.

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