February 2006 Archives

The Reconstructionist movement was never supposed to be one.

Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan, the founder of Reconstructionism in the 1920’s, actually considered himself a Conservative Jew and taught at that movement’s seminary for more than fifty years. (He was also a co-founder of the Modern Orthodox Young Israel movement and the inspiration for the secular JCC movement–so much for denominational labels!)

In his thought and writings, Kaplan was not trying to establish a new movement–far from it. Instead, he tried to chart a path to the revitalization of Jewish life in America that was based in a recognition that Judaism was the always-evolving product of the Jewish people in its never-ending quest to live in covenantal relationship with God. All Jews were supposed to recognize this core truth about how Judaism had evolved and must continue to evolve. In other words, Reconstructionism was–-and, in many ways, still is–-first and foremost a framework to describe what Judaism is, and only then a path to discovering what it should be.

For decades Kaplan wrote and lectured, gaining adherents to the approach he (naively) hoped would unify all Jews. It was only in the late 1960’s that Reconstructionism slowly began to take on the institutional elements that would lead to its becoming a movement.

Kaplan’s bold approach still reverberates today. Instead of becoming bogged down in issues of dogma or institution-building, Kaplan tried to focus on the core questions that underlie Jewish life: how has Judaism come to be as it is today? what must happen for it to continue to remain relevant and organic? how do we create meaningful and engaging Jewish communities? how do we write the next chapter in the ongoing sacred story of the relationship between the Jewish people and God?

The fact that so many of these questions have been taken up by other movements-–albeit with differing answers-–is testimony to the wisdom of his approach. We are, after all, Jews first and foremost, and the concept of Klal Yisrael (the unity of the Jewish people) is one that was dear to Kaplan.

While there is no question that real–-and important–-differences exist between Reform, Reconstructionist, Conservative, and Orthodox Jews, I think the focus on labels often tends to emphasize those differences, focusing us more on what separates us than binds us together.

Robert Putnam, author of Bowling Alone, sees the collapse of social groupings, from fraternal organizations to bowling leagues, as symptomatic of the modern desire to relate on one’s own terms and schedule with like-minded and demographically similar people. What is true for communal organizations is true for religious congregations and even national denominations.

Among my Christian neighbors, more and more belong to non-denominationalist churches. The funny thing is that these churches share an amazing amount of similarity in their religious philosophy and political perspective. There are well-funded national organizations, publishing houses, and media ministries that service them and reflect their interests in public discourse. I would suggest that what we are seeing is not post-denominationalism but a restructuring of Christian denominationalism in response to social and technological change. These unaffiliated churches are attractive because they harness these waves of change.

What we rabbis wouldn’t give to be so attractive to the largely unaffiliated Jewish masses.

On second thought, though, there are things we would not give--give up, that is. As Conservative Jews, we wouldn’t give up our commitment to faith without fundamentalism, expressed in our open approach to text and its intersection with science, as well as our commitment to the equal participation of women. We wouldn’t give up our commitment to Torah as an expression of how to live our lives in the presence and under the authority of God.

However, we don’t need to sacrifice any of these core values to reposition our movement to successfully attract the Bowling Alone generation. Just the opposite: we need to identify, advocate, and live our values all the more clearly and consistently. This is the position of Tom Bandy, an ordained minister who has helped transform numerous churches into dynamic, synergetic, inspiring, and usually growing faith communities.

There are significant theological differences between the Orthodoxy, Conservative, Reform, and the Reconstructionist movements, but those differences don’t mean a thing if they are not linked to the personal beliefs and practice of their adherents (in addition to their rabbis).

The implications may be threatening, because we will have to change our assumptions and practices so that what we do is consistent with what we say we believe. It also means we have to come to some consensus. This is particularly difficult for the Conservative movement, which prides itself on its pluralism. However, the disconnect between belief and practice has perhaps been the Conservative movement’s greatest albatross.

Change may be costly, but the rewards are priceless: a revitalized movement boasting egalitarian congregations who welcome the Sabbath Queen Friday nights and don’t let her go until the following evening.

This is not about raising our expectations of our congregants as much as cultivating communities that share a common set of values that can then attract like-minded individuals. The rejuvenation of the Orthodox movement is, in large part, a result of a such a dynamic.

Such a process is also possible for the Conservative movement. Last spring, Bandy met with Conservative rabbis to kick start this process. A symposium on "Conservative Judaism and the Future of Religion in America," edited by Jack Wertheimer, in the recent issue of Judaism will broaden the conversation and move it forward.

We are in an exciting time of retooling and redefinition in the Jewish community. The Reform movement certainly is redefining itself and its expectations for its members. The Conservative movement is doing the same.

Denominationalism is not dead. It is just in the midst of a transformative resurrection.

You know something is happening to Jewish denominations when Orthodox Jews (who pray in gender-segregated prayer services) are calling women up to the Torah for honors (aliyot), while many Conservative congregations that have mixed seating still prohibit women from being called up to the Torah. But the crisis in Jewish denominational life extends well beyond ritual. What does it mean that the most recognizable Jewish face in America at-large is not a Reform rabbi but a man wearing a pointy hat and a scraggly beard exclaiming, “We want Moshaich now"?

The truth of the matter is the greatest divide between Jews is no longer Reform, Conservative, Orthodox. Rather, it’s Engaged versus Disengaged.

The denominations were founded around the fear of heresy and deviancy and the belief in certain dogmas. Orthodox Jews followed ortho-doxa--correct beliefs. Many attended Orthodox synagogues not because they kept kosher or even Shabbat but because they believed in the tenets and principles of the movement. Reform Jews believed in ethical monotheism. The average Reform and Conservative Jew differed more in ideology and sentiment than in practice (neither went to synagogue much).

For a variety of reasons, dogma and ideology no longer determine synagogue affiliation. People want to be serviced. For many it does not really matter if that service is being offered by a 30-something woman who thinks that feminism is the new messiah or by someone who thinks the Messiah is coming tomorrow.

Today, those Jews who belong to a congregation do so more based on location, lifestyle, and attention than anything else. As a congregant of mine once said, “all I care about is that I feel people care about me and that they are there for me, that is what matters most.”

Simply put, in an age of Jewish apathy, heresy is just not that important. The big question today is not so much which synagogue you attend but whether you attend at all. Some have been attracted to other forms of Jewish experience, such as the revolution and renaissance happening in the world of Jewish learning. For example, the Me'ah adult learning program at the Hebrew College in Newton Centre, Massachusetts, and The Skirball Center for Adult Jewish Learning in New York both offer strong adult-education programs, with teachers and students ranging from across the denominational spectrum. These initiatives are part of what many claim is the emergence of a post-denominational learning movement.

Nonetheless, denominations still have great currency for Jews. Like all human beings, Jews constantly find a need to define themselves. In doing so they will use different labels to express old ideas and employ old labels to express new ideas.

“The Big Three” denominations will continue to exist as long as they service a critical mass of Jews. If they fail to meet that need, they will be replaced or supplemented by other groups or movements that better express what people are doing or thinking. A good example of this is the Reconstructionist movement, which arose because its founders felt that “The Big Three” did not speak to American Jews' needs.

Yes, people are less intoxicated by religious labels than they were 50 years ago, but the need for community and a place that one can call home are still part of the human condition.

Contrary to popular belief, Moses was not a Conservative, Reform, or Orthodox Jew. In their current form, the three major denominations are only 150 years old. Each of these movements will have to revamp itself; otherwise, new ones will emerge and one day we will be debating whether or not they have outlived their lifespan.

Should Judaism proselytize? No. Should it be more welcoming? Yes.

For years most rabbis instinctly followed the Talmudic norm that one should push away converts warning them about the difficulties of becoming Jewish. God knows how many conversions stopped with a rabbi explaining to a potential convert, "Do you know how hard this is going to be?" For 2,000 years, this approach was adopted by Jews across the spectrum.

Of course, there were some at the margins of Jewish life who said otherwise, but for the most part that was the general approach adopted by leaders in the Jewish world. Then came the realization that the Jewish community was doing such a good job at pushing people away from converting (while at the same time being super-welcoming) that many congregations had more non-Jews in their pews on Shabbat morning than Jews. So recently, Rabbi Eric Yoffie (Reform) and Rabbi Jerome Epstein (Conservative) each independently called on his respective movement to stop being so welcoming and start doing more converting. Talk about making a theological 360!!

Epstein’s and Yoffie’s words have generated a great deal of discussion and have highlighted the shifting boundaries of identity politics in Jewish life. Many, including my teacher Dr. Steven Bayme, director of the Contemporary Jewish Life Department of the American Jewish Committee and of the Institute on American Jewish-Israeli Relations, and Dr. Jack Wertheimer, provost of the Jewish Theological Seminary, have hailed the initiative as “constructive” and “courageous.”

On the other hand, there have been those on the left and on the right who have criticized the shift toward conversion. Blogger Steven I. Weiss has pointed out some of the seeming contradictions and problems with Yoffie’s approach, including the irony of those who lambaste Christian evangelicals promoting conversion for non-Jews. Likewise, Rabbi Yehuda Sarna of NYU Hillel has expressed fear that such proselytizing will trickle down to the college campus, making pluralisitic Hillel houses into conversion centers.

For Orthodox Jews, the issue is of a different nature but one no less pressing. Sadly, those who are being converted by Reform and Conservative rabbis will one day come in front of an Orthodox Jew who will question their conversion.

With an intermarriage rate hovering around 50 percent, such situations will only become more common and create more of a divide between the different denominations. Nonetheless, it would seem that Yoffie and Epstein are correct: As Bayme has documented, in the long run those who take “the plunge” into Judaism breed stronger and more vibrant Jewish families. And isn’t that what’s most important?

The Reform Movement’s call to convert non-Jews is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, non-Jews are increasingly being told that they are welcome in liberal congregations and on the other their non-Jewish identity is devalued as they receive the message that they are not welcome to be who they are. I’m not sure that kind of conditional welcome is the one that will lead to a healthy relationship with the non-Jews in our communities.

In my congregation, there are many instances of non-Jewish partners who have converted to Judaism several years after their weddings. They convert because they have had the experience of being a part of a truly welcoming Jewish community–often becoming as or more involved than their spouses–and want to take the final step to full belonging. This is only possible because our community is so accepting and welcoming of non-Jewish partners, allowing them to fully experience and be a part of our community to the point that they voluntarily wish to take the final step toward living a Jewish life. I am very proud that an adult bar/bat mitzvah class I am currently teaching contains a number of congregants who converted later in life.

Our welcoming attitude stems from the Reconstructionist movement’s general tendency toward inclusiveness. But more than that, it flows from the way Reconstructionism views being a part of the Jewish community. Judaism is a civilization and one can appreciate and participate in that civilization without being Jewish, just as one can appreciate and participate in American civilization without being American. This approach eschews the traditional in-groups and out-groups that don’t reflect the reality of a non-Jewish parent helping his or her child with religious school homework, supporting them through bar or bat mitzvah, and often helping to create a Jewish household. Instead, we recognize that by living in and participating in a Jewish community and according to the Jewish calendar and sacred rhythms, one does attain a measure of belonging. A good analogy is holding a green card–it doesn’t entitle you to the full rights and privileges of American citizenship (for this you need to undergo the formal process of ‘conversion’)–but it does confer a specific status and many rights on you. At our synagogue, non-Jewish partners are like those who hold a green card, what in biblical terms might be referred to as a ger toshav (see Numbers 15:14-16), the non-Israelite who nonetheless lives in and becomes a part of the life of the community.

It’s important to recognize and welcome the valuable contributions these "fellow travelers" can bring to our communities. As a rabbi, I honor the choice of those non-Jews who are engaged and choose not to convert, just as I honor–and celebrate–the choice of those who freely choose to do so.

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