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    RABBI HAUER AND THE POWER OF DISAGREEMENT

    On Shemini Atzeres
    of 5786, the Jewish
    world lost Rabbi
    Moshe Hauer zt”l,
    one of the wisest and
    most quietly pious
    people I have ever
    had the privilege of
    knowing. Rabbi Hauer was a spiritual giant
    and a personal mentor of mine, but it did not
    start out that way. When I first interacted
    with Rabbi Hauer when I was a lay leader
    at the OU, I found his actions puzzling and
    contrary to my instincts on how a leader
    should run an organization. Let me tell you
    how he not only won me over but convinced
    me to leave my career in Finance and work
    for him full time.
    I served for years as a volunteer on the
    editorial committee of Jewish Action. The
    committee meets to plan each issue and
    offers guidance through email on an ongoing
    basis. In the past, we typically operated
    independently unless questions arose that
    required direction from OU leadership.
    The system worked well and the magazine
    earned wide praise for its educational and
    inspirational value.
    That changed in 2020 when Rabbi
    Hauer joined the OU as executive vice
    president and began attending and actively

    contributing to editorial meetings. He
    offered detailed thoughts on specific articles
    and themes: what topics we should cover,
    whether to take a first-person angle or more
    of a thought piece, who would be a good
    writer or interviewee for any specific article,
    etc. The involvement of the head of such
    a vast organization — overseeing NCSY,
    Yachad and more — initially troubled me.
    Was this level of hands-on participation
    good for the organization? On a personal
    level, he and I often disagreed in those
    meetings, and I assumed he did not value
    my input. I felt alienated from a publication
    I loved and frustrated by what I mistook for
    micromanagement.
    I expected that he did not appreciate my
    contribution because of our frequent
    disagreements. Over time, through continued
    conversation, I realized how wrong I
    had been. Rabbi Hauer’s involvement
    reflected a fundamental belief that came to
    resonate deeply with me. He believed in the
    transformative power of ideas. OU programs
    are about action — outreach, assistance,
    advocacy, etc. — but ideas are what inspire
    action. To change the world, you start with
    changing how people think. You open
    conversation on urgent issues and challenge
    assumptions. Without defining problems
    and understanding their causes, how can
    you ever solve them? How do we energize

    people to take action without first
    convincing them that this must be
    a priority?
    Nearly all of my many conversations
    with Rabbi Hauer returned to this
    theme: the world is complex. We
    must weigh priorities and decide
    which takes precedence. Talk must
    lead to insight, and insight must
    lead to action. Discussion without
    direction, without a takeaway, was
    for him a missed opportunity.
    But even practical conversation
    alone is not enough. It has to
    reflect a Torah perspective rooted
    in traditional sources and guided
    by the sages of our time. Rabbi
    Hauer was uncompromising in his
    fidelity to Torah values on every
    minor detail, every word, every
    implication. This came not merely
    from obedience to halachah but
    from his essence. He strove to align
    every decision with Hashem’s will,
    through halachah and hashkafah,
    Jewish law and thought. His
    faith and awe of Hashem infused
    everything he said and did. He
    continually sought guidance from
    great rabbis to confirm that he was
    walking the right path.
    I came to see that his attention to Jewish
    Action and passionate care for its detailed
    decisions stemmed not from executive
    control but from religious responsibility.
    He saw the magazine as a crucial forum
    to explore how we as a community can
    better fulfill Hashem’s will. He began
    with first principles—analyze issues,
    inspire reflection, identify even partial
    solutions. Rabbi Hauer often reminded us
    that the Orthodox community has much to
    celebrate, yet always has more work to do
    and more people to help.

    Years earlier, in 2011, Rabbi Hauer co-
    founded the Klal Perspectives journal

    to discuss communal challenges and
    solutions. After joining the OU, he
    extended that mission through Jewish
    Action, in a more accessible format. He
    valued disagreement and a spectrum
    of viewpoints. He wanted ideas
    tested. Hearing other perspectives and
    possibilities sharpened his thinking.
    Sometimes he conceded to me, sometimes
    not. He was a persistent man in pursuing
    Hashem’s will, but at the same time he was
    open to hearing and honestly considering
    other views particularly from other parts
    of the community.
    Eventually, as he drew me into more
    conversations and projects, I realized
    that our differences had revealed a shared
    purpose. I followed his guidance as a
    student before a teacher, challenging him
    respectfully and often being rewarded
    with his humor in return. His appreciation
    of our interactions led him to invite me

    to work for him full time earlier this year,
    which for me is a dream come true. I will
    forever mourn that I had only a few months
    under the mentorship of such a great man.
    Rabbi Hauer’s blend of conviction and
    openness, his strength of principle and
    willingness to listen, endeared him to all
    who knew him. These qualities, as so many
    are now testifying, allowed him to elevate
    individuals and the community alike.
    I learned so much from Rabbi Hauer in
    such a short time. When I first drafted this
    article, I began with a clever opening line
    meant to create suspense. Then I heard
    Rabbi Hauer’s voice in my mind, asking in
    the language of familiarity and mentorship,
    “Really? That is how you begin speaking
    about a rabbi who passed away? Where’s the
    kavod ha-Torah, the honor for the Torah?”
    In my head, I explained the literary effect
    and the buildup to the kavod, the respect
    which he demanded for others. To which I
    heard Rabbi Hauer’s voice say the pithy and
    powerful phrase I imagine he would make
    up on the spot, “More kavod, less clever.”
    And then he repeated in a hushed voice,
    almost a whisper, as if reproaching himself
    more than me, “More kavod, less clever.”
    I pray that we are able to live up to his
    towering example and his uncompromising
    ideals, and continue reflecting in our
    actions more kavod — for the Torah, for
    the community and for every individual
    — as Rabbi Hauer taught with his tireless
    example.