Rabbi Joshua Waxman: May 2006 Archives

In his masterful book "Sacred Fragments," Rabbi Neil Gillman explores the question of revelation and asks: What really happened at Sinai? And what does our answer mean about revelation and the value of the Torah?

Gillman considers, and rejects, a variety of positions–from the traditional belief that God literally handed a scroll to Moses, to a naturalistic view that ‘Torah’ is simply the name that we give to a natural process of human discernment. But Gillman doesn’t find any of these explanations wholly satisfying. Instead, he follows the model of the German-Jewish philosopher Franz Rosenzweig in asserting that Torah is neither wholly divine nor wholly human, but rather is a synthesis that is created in the space between God and Israel. Torah as we know it is not the content of, but a response to, revelation.

Personally, I’m not sure I can go as far as Gillman or Rosenzweig in asserting an active role for God in creating Torah–or that I need to. I believe that Torah is in fact a human creation, but that its human origins doesn’t render it any less precious or sacred.

Torah is a collection of teachings, wisdom, laws, and sacred stories written down over the course of generations by imperfect, fallible people who were trying both to discern and express God’s will. And more than that, Torah is the discourse and engagement of the countless generations that have followed–reading, interpreting, and wrestling with these holy words so Torah may speak to us with a fresh voice in each generation.

Thus, when we say that God gave the Torah at Sinai, we are not so much making a factual assertion about Torah’s origins as we are giving expression to the ineffable holiness that lies at its core, asserting that its preciousness transcends the mere recording of words and reveals to us truths about God.

Seen this way, Sinai isn’t a moment or a place; rather Sinai is the process of writing and of wrestling and studying through the ages. This is the sense in which we all truly do stand at Sinai–not only on Shavuot but whenever we approach Torah with awe, openness, and love.

What happened on Mt. Sinai? To me, the question is not central. My faith in Torah doesn’t depend on its origin; rather, it derives from the countless generations of Jews who have been touched by its sanctity and have in turn imparted it with meaning–turning and re-turning to it in endless loving cycles down the years.

There is no question that neither the Jewish day school nor supplemental "Hebrew school" model is succeeding when it comes to educating our kids to be informed, conscientious, proficient, identified Jews. The reason is simple: both day schools and supplemental schools are being called to take on an impossible role–that traditionally played by parents, extended families, and the local Jewish community.

Schools, after all, can be a place to convey information but they were never supposed to be the primary–let alone sole–place to impart identity, values, life skills, and an organic sense of what it means to live Jewishly. In most parts of the American Jewish community, however, our schools are being called upon to do exactly that–is it any surprise they’re buckling under the pressure?

The solution? Sadly, there’s no quick fix to this problem, but there are a few steps I think can help:

Family education. Programs that involve parents and children together help provide crucial Jewish knowledge to parents and empower them to take an active role in guiding their Jewish education and moral development. Children get to see that their parents value Jewish learning and learn from their parents’ example, just as they do when parents drop children off at Sunday school and then rush off to Starbucks or to the mall.

Immersive peer experiences. There is no substitute for the messages and reinforcement kids get from their peers, and placing them together in a Jewish environment is tremendously important for promoting identity and a sense of connection to the Jewish people. Possibilities include Jewish camping and Israel trips through youth organizations, schools, or programs aimed at college-age Jews such as Birthright or Otzma.

There’s no place like home. Clearly, there is no substitute for the lessons learned and experiences created at home within one’s family. The magic of sitting down together for a Shabbat meal, of baking hamantaschen, of a seder, of discussing words of Torah around a table–Jewish education needs to empower parents by giving them the skills necessary to create these organic Jewish moments for their own children that will become a part of their kishkes.

Obviously, none of this is easy to do. It involves engaging parents who may be ambivalent about Jewish education or practice, who may lack the skills to model Jewish living for their children, and who may have negative attitudes toward Jewish education from their own childhood experiences. It demands asking these parents what they want for their children and how the schools can partner with the parents to make it happen. It requires sustained attention and energy, with a focus on values as well as content and skills. The task is daunting, but the payoff is enormous.

The Jewish press in America and Israel is abuzz about the recent comments of Israeli novelist A.B. Yehoshua to the effect that Jewish life in the Disapora (outside of Israel) is incomplete and irrelevant.

The substance of the charges is nothing new–for 150 years, Zionist theoreticians have been espousing a concept called shelilat ha-galut, the negation of the Diaspora, which says in effect that 2,000 years of Jewish existence outside Israel was a mistake of history that must be corrected by gathering all Jews back to an autonomous Jewish state. Diaspora life is viewed as inferior in every way, for only in an independent country could Jews have security and cultural self-determination.

This approach, born out of 19th-century German Romantic nationalism, has its appeals–certainly Diaspora life was often a wretched existence, with Jews persecuted, driven out, or even murdered at the whims of local rulers. The Holocaust, whose horror is inextricably linked with the founding of the State of Israel, is only the latest and most extreme manifestation of this phenomenon. Clearly there is no question, as the early Zionists argued, that Israel can be a uniquely Jewish place where geography, history, language, religion, culture, and power come together unlike any other place on Earth.

And yet. What the proponents of shelilat ha-galut, Yehoshua among them, fail to recognize is that while Judaism is a civilization whose origins most definitely are in Israel, its development and maturity are the product of precisely those 2,000 years of Diaspora existence. From the Talmud compiled in Babylonia in the 6th century; to the philosophy and legal codes of Spain in the 10th century; to the ethical writings of Germany in the 13th century; to the infusion of Enlightenment principles of Western Europe in the 18th century; to Hasidic mysticism of 19th-century Eastern Europe; to the focus on political and spiritual engagement in America in the 21st century, Jewish history has developed, been nurtured, and been deepened in a series of Diaspora centers for these 2,000 years, as the famed Jewish historian Simon Dubnow vividly cataloged in his ten-volume History of the Jewish People.

While Israel was always at the ideational and aspirational center of these Diaspora communities, Judaism was far more rooted in law, covenant, and sacred story than it was in any geographic place, Israel included. For 2,000 years, Diaspora has been the reality of the Jewish experience, and Judaism as it exists today is a Diaspora civilization. Put more plainly, the Diaspora is Judaism and, for the time being, at least, the Diaspora is here to stay.

Some Israelis will say this is precisely the problem–why stay in the Diaspora when Israel awaits? Nu, pack already!

Supercessionism, in any of its varieties, is never a pretty thing, and the concept of shelilat ha-galut is no exception. In addition to denying the validity of 2,000 years of Jewish history and experience, this form of thinking effectively denies that Diaspora Judaism has anything worth teaching. And anyone familiar with the current state of affairs in Israel knows that a measure of the Diaspora traditions of ethics, humility, and intellectual and moral reasoning would go a long way.

The truth is, both centers–Israel and Diaspora–have a great deal to teach and to learn from each other. The sooner we can stop with name-calling and polemics, the sooner we can try to integrate the best of both worlds–to forge a Judaism that is proud, ethical, deeply rooted in history and culture, thoughtful, powerful, and concerned with the wellbeing of all people.

Sadly, the story is all too common–Jewish families trying to outdo each other with over-the-top Bar and Bat Mitzvah parties that show off wealth and status in an orgy of conspicuous consumption. For some it seems it don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that bling.

This is just the type of excess which is parodied in the new movie "Keeping Up with the Steins," where two families vie to throw the more lavish Bar Mitzvah party. But sadly, screenwriters’ imaginations can’t compete with status-conscious parents, as in the recent Bat Mitzvah celebration of the daughter of defense contractor David Brooks, featuring 50 Cent, Aerosmith, Tom Petty, and a reported $10 million price tag.

All of which raises the question of what these celebrations are about. Bar and Bat Mitzvah is traditionally a celebration of welcoming a child into adulthood as a full and responsible member of the Jewish community. It is both a family and a community celebration, a rite of passage intended to mark the arrival at adolescence but also to initiate the boy or girl into the ways and values of the society. These values generally include study, leading the congregation in prayer, engaging with and teaching words of Torah, and acts of tzedakah--giving and community service.

The focus on party, of course, emphasizes an entirely different set of values into which a boy or girl is being initiated–those of materialism, excess, and status. Perhaps this is why these parties resonate so deeply for so many: More than the religious rituals and service itself, the parties are a true reflection of the values and priorities of many families.

The origins of this excess are almost understandable, as newly accepted and prosperous Jews in the 1950’s and 60’s wanted to demonstrate their respectability in the face of a society that had been, until recently, openly hostile to Jews and still maintained all sorts of subtle and not-so-subtle forms of "gentlemanly" discrimination. By the 1980’s, Jews were, virtually without exception, fully integrated into American society at all levels, and so they absorbed the prevailing culture of excess, giving rise to parties celebrated with equal parts of nostalgia and irony at places like Bar Mitzvah Disco. And more recently, the trend has even started to work in reverse: Jewish adolescent ‘Bar Mitzvah’ parties have become so popular that even non-Jews are asking for them. Gee, I guess we’ve arrived.

So now what?

Now that we’ve secured a slice of the American dream, now that non-Jews are imitating us, maybe it’s time for us to reassert what Bar and Bat Mitzvah is really about: family, community, service, responsibility, and recognizing holiness in the transitions in our lives. In the face of this Hummer and bling-obsessed culture, maybe it’s time to use our influence to try to inject these core Jewish values into American society. Now that would be a mitzvah worth celebrating.

One of the core precepts of Reconstructionist thought is that Judaism is always evolving in response to times and circumstances–and thank God for that!

If Judaism had remained static, then our religion would have died out 1,900 years ago when the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed and we could no longer offer sacrifice. It is precisely Judaism’s ability to adapt and evolve that has kept it living and vibrant, rather than becoming stagnant. Whatever our attempts to convince ourselves to the contrary, Judaism was not handed to us in fixed and final form; rather, Judaism continues to evolve as successive generations of the Jewish people try to understand their obligations to God and to the world.

Homosexuality is one area where Judaism must change, as it has organically in so many other areas down the millennia. Certainly there are verses (two of them) in Torah that condemn homosexual behavior; but many of the standards of ancient Israelite society that we no longer would countenance are likewise enshrined in Torah. Slavery, stoning, vengeance killing–all of these practices are accepted or even promoted by the Torah. And yet we have no problem categorically rejecting them, saying that they no longer conform to a Jewish vision of a just and well-ordered society. Why should homosexuality be different?

It is clear to me that what many people think about gays and lesbians informs the way they read the Bible, rather than the Bible informing what people think about gays and lesbians. In other words, a general societal bias has emphasized–and politicized–this particular prohibition when so many others have, appropriately, been either discarded or reinterpreted.

Judaism provides a framework for formalizing and celebrating loving relationships through kiddushin, marriage. Gay and lesbian couples deserve to be affirmed both civilly and religiously, acknowledging the couple’s legal rights and also the holiness that exists in nurturing and mutually supportive relationships.

A growing number of rabbis see celebrating same-sex marriage as supporting core Jewish values and extending their promise to those who have been unfairly marginalized. It is through simple steps in the name of justice and love that the next chapter in the unfolding narrative of the Jewish people may be written.