Reform Judaism

What Lingers On

2008-10-29T07:05:55Z

By Marge Eiseman
Many years ago, I got married in my parents' living room. For years afterwards, every time I walked into that room, I felt the warmth of that day, as if the love still lingered in the walls and the air.

At the time, there just wasn't any good space at our synagogue for a small-ish wedding - either one used the conference room which held 20-30, or the sanctuary, which looked empty with less than 100. Now of course, we could use our new Living and Learning space, one of the five simultaneous additions/renovations of our synagogue that was recently completed.

Congregation Sinai in Milwaukee is proudly gearing up to host the URJ/WRJ Great Lakes/Chicago Regional Biennial Shabbat morning service, featuring an address from Rabbi Eric Yoffie. Our sanctuary will be filled with Reform Jews, praying and singing together as one large congregation on November 8, led by our clergy, Rabbi David Cohen and Cantor Rebecca Robins.

Even though I can't attend the entire conference, I always figured I would attend the service. Then the invitation came to sing in the choir for this event, and I couldn't turn it down, in part because our brand-new cantor is so excited to be singing for this kahal. She chose two pieces for us to sing and even bought us new white choir binders.

I'm excited, too. I never get blasé about being part of a large group of Jews. Every year, I go to at least one (and often more) such gathering, and every single time, I'm energized by the magnitude of the group. I love hearing the harmonies, knowing the words, being part of the scene.

I expect that in months and years to come, when the memory is strong, we'll sense the lingering hint of our shared experience of this service. Ken y'hi ratzon.

Strengthening Reform 15: The Great Mitzvah Muddle

2008-09-26T23:13:00Z

by William Berkson
The latest expression of the principles of Reform Judaism is the six-page "Pittsburgh Principles" of 1999. The book A Vision of Holiness: The Future of Reform Judaism, by Rabbi Richard Levy, begins with this statement, and expands on it to explain it more fully.

One of the questions that was put to focus groups concerned autonomy and mitzvot: "... It is a given that Jews have the autonomous right to choose what beliefs and practices will inform their lives, but for Reform Jews the hard question is the role of Torah and mitzvot in their lives."

The answer in the 1999 "Pittsburgh Principles" is as follows: "We are committed to the ongoing study of the whole array of mitzvot and to the fulfillment of those that address us as individual and as a community. Some of those mitzvot, sacred obligations, have long been observed by Reform Jews; others, both ancient and modern, demand renewed attention as the result of the unique context of our times."

This is not a principle, but a 'punt'. If those practices are sacred obligations, then not following them was a mistake that we should correct. If they are not sacred obligations, ok, we don't have to follow them. Is this "principle" saying we should revive some old customs? If so, on what basis? No answers. Compared to the bracing clarity and forcefulness of the original Pittsburgh Platform, this is a fog.

Rabbi Levy writes that the arguments over the status of tefilin, tallit, etc., were the most heated in discussions of what to put in the 1999 "Principles." This muddy paragraph I think reveals that in fact no clear conclusion was reached. Rabbi Levy in his book does take a dramatic step to clarify the issue of which mitzvot to observe: he clearly and forcefully rejects the long-standing Reform view that ethical and ritual mitzvot have a different status.

Before addressing Rabbi Levy's solution, let me take a step back and see what has led up to Rabbi Levy's dramatic change. The 1885 Pittsburgh Platform says that while Reform Jews accept traditional moral laws as binding, they maintain only "such ceremonies as elevate and sanctify our lives, but reject all such as are not adapted to the views and habits of modern civilization." The 1937 "Columbus Platform," reaffirms this view, though in less clear terms: "Being the products of historical processes, certain of its laws have lost their binding force with the passing of the conditions that called them forth. ... Each age has the obligation to adapt the teachings of the Torah to its basic needs ..." Note that in this language implicitly some rituals are viewed as obligatory, a change from 1885.

The 1976 "Reform Judaism: Centenary Perspective" represents a more significant shift. First, it clearly labels specific rituals as obligatory: "The past century has taught us that the claims made upon us may begin with our ethical obligations but they extend to many other aspects of Jewish living: [a Jewish home, life-long study, public prayer, daily private prayer, keeping Shabbat and holidays, involvement in synagogue and community, promoting survival of Jewish people.]" But it goes on to qualify or contradict this obligation on all Reform Jews with a concluding message: "Reform Jews ... are called on to exercise their individual autonomy, choosing and creating [religious practice] on the basis of knowledge and commitment." How to reconcile the two messages is not entirely clear, but it seems that individual Reform Jews can contradict the general recommendations on ritual, but only if they do so on a basis of being well informed and still committed as Jews.

We went from an 1885 "Platform" to a 1976 "Perspective," and the changes in title I think indicate an increased tentativeness and nervousness about the direction of Reform. The "Perspective" tries to wrestle with increased diversity of practice within Reform by making a virtue of it: "Reform Jews respond to change in various ways according to the Reform principle of autonomy of the individual. However, Reform Judaism does more than tolerate diversity; it engenders it. In our uncertain historical situation we must expect to have far greater diversity than previous generations knew."

This emphasis on "autonomy" it seems is a post-war idea, and perhaps an influence of the extreme individualism that swept the US in the 1960's, and the resulting diversity. "Diversity within unity" is a brave motto of the "Perspective", but as the conflict between forceful direction on ritual and then big qualification shows, the writers of the "Perspective" were not at all clear how that unity could be maintained.

The 1999 Duties of the Soul: The Role of Commandments in Judaism is a thoughtful volume in which many Reform Rabbis try to resolve the mixed messages of obligation and autonomy that were contained in the 1976 "Perspective." However, I think it fair to say that no clear resolution of the issue emerges from the volume.

Now Rabbi Levy has come in his 2005 Vision of Holiness with his dramatic proposal to cut the 'Gordian Knot' of the mitzvah muddle by declaring no distinction between the ethical and ritual mitzvot. While Rabbi Levy's Vision contains much that is beautiful and touching, I think that abolishing the distinction between ritual and ethical mitzvot is a spectacularly bad idea for Reform Judaism. In my next post I will explain why.

Reconsidering our labels

2008-09-15T06:11:33Z

By David A.M. Wilensky (First published on The Reform Shuckle)

Let me propose to you today that, by God, we Reform Jews need a new name. Keep reading for more.

Names are important to us Jews. God gets different names ascribed to him throughout the Torah and many believe each name to be reflection of God's different aspects, the idea that when God does thing X, his name is Y, and when he does thing A, his name is B. And if he were to repeat A later, B would be his name again. But there is one inaccessible, inpronouncable name of God, which we are told is his all-important real name. This could be compared to the fact I might be called Blogger when I blog and Shaliach Tzibur when I lead services, but truly my personal name is David.

Ben Dreyfus (known when he blogs by the name BZ!), preeminent proponent of the liberal, pluralistic Jewish world, has recently posted a discussion of a certain name at his excelent blog, Mah Rabu. In the post, which everyone should go read, he applauds today's Beliefs column in the New York Times. In the column, writer Peter Steinfels questions the way in which we have all accepted two blurrily-defined versions of the word "orthodox."

I'll leave the discussion of the word "orthodox" to Ben's excellent post, which, really, everyone should go and read now. Meanwhile, I will turn my attention toward another label that we often encounter in the world of Jewish denominationalism: Reform

First, it is interesting that no one to the left of Orthodox Judaism has had any large beefs with the far right-wing co-option of the term orthodox. The word, from Greek, literally means "correct belief." And only those on the far right make any claim that they have stumbled acorss the correct way of believing. On the left, we are often more content to say that we like they we each do things and mostly leave other Jews to do things their own way.

Our name, Reform, has its origin in the wish of a few German Rabbis, over a century ago, to push Judaism through a complete reformation, much like that of Martin Luther. Isaac Mayer Wise, in his having originally named the official North American body of our movment the Union of American Hebrew Congregations, showed his intention to form a totally new and reformed version of Judaism, which all American Jews would buy into. Clearly, that desire did not quite pan out for him. Here we sit, many years later, with a vastly different, though perhaps equally left-leaning ideology, and a new name as of 2003: the Union for Reform Judaism.

Because we have essentially abandoned the idea of a total reformation of Judaism, and since we have abandoned the search for any unified reformed form of Judaism for an ongoing personal process of ritual and ethical trial and error, I propose that our name has been outmoded by our own evolving intentions.

I propose an alternatives: Progressive.

Progressive, I propose for three reasons: First, I propose it in the interests of international solidarity. With the exception of a thriving enclave in Great Britain, every other "Reform" Jewish group in the world calls itself Progressive. For examples, see the World Movment for Progressive Judaism and Israel Movement for Progressive Judaism.

Second, it shows our intent not to re-form one static form into a new, different, yet still static form, but to keep moving forward and to continue to try new things and to evolve into new things and ideas.

Third, it's great in Hebrew! The Hebrew word Mitkadem is often used by our sister movement in Israel. At its root is the Hebrew for forward or onward, Kadimah. I like that.

So there.

Strengthen Reform: 11. Making Judaism Meaningful to Teens

2008-08-20T18:20:40Z

By William Berkson
As I explained in previous posts, Reform Judaism can become much stronger by serving families. And it can do this by showing how the personal ethics of the Talmud, updated, can powerfully assist sacred relationships, strong marriages and families.

However, before this we first have to convince teens that Judaism can make a difference to their lives. As is well known, there is a huge drop off of students attending religious school after Bar and Bat Mitzvah. What can we teach teens that will be compelling evidence that it will help them to have Judaism as part of their lives?

I have been working on a solution for over ten years, in part shown by my Becoming a Mentsh Workshops, which show teens and their parents how to apply Jewish values to improve life today. These teach how to creatively apply values in Torah and Talmud to issues such as: parent-teen relationships, relationships between the sexes (love, sex and marriage), and how to deal with the stress of the struggle for success in school and career. The distinctive thing about my approach is that it synthesizes the insights of the sages of the Talmud with insights of modern psychology--particularly insights on communication and problem-solving skills.

I am now starting to expand these into a full classroom curriculum for Temple Rodef Shalom of Virginia, and the first of the full classes will be on Peer to Peer ethics. I will come later to issues of the place of psychology, but let me state by explaining why Talmudic ethics is, I believe, so crucial to success in relating Jewish values to modern life.

Currently a lot of teaching in ethics is done by teaching 'middot' or virtues. The 'virtue' approach to ethics comes from Aristotle, and was brought into Judaism by Maimonides, who tried to synthesize Aristotle and Jewish tradition. Much of this synthesis didn't stick, but the virtue ethics did. The Hebrew 'middot' is a translation of the Greek 'arete' or virtue, made by the translator of Maimonides' Guide for the Perplexed, in consultation with him. In this approach the meaning of 'humility' 'truthfulness', and so on are taught.

The 'virtue' approach has a lot to recommend it, particularly with younger children, but it does not enable one to really engage the heart of Jewish ethics, and see how it can lift up relationships and make them more holy. This is because the real challenges and rewards of living an ethical life only become clear when we engage specific issues, as the Talmud does. Then it becomes clear that the challenge of doing the negative mitzvot, such as not standing by when others sin, is a matter of moral courage. And then it also becomes clear that the challenge of doing the positive mitzvot, such as doing justice, are a complex matter of choices that involve right vs right, and the lesser of evils. These choices require thoughtfulness and creativity to find the right way, as well as courage to follow it. General concepts like 'justice' are essential, but more specific guidance is needed.

A small example of this is an issue that comes up in one of the peer-to-peer ethics case studies in the class. In this case, 'The Purloined Exam', a student has stolen an advance copy of an exam, and is giving it to friends. The difficult choice for the 'mentsh' is whether to report the thief, and to whom.

Interestingly, keeping secrets and not informing is generally speaking preferred in rabbinic ethics. This is because saying bad things about others, even if true, is generally prohibited, and is known as lashon hara, the 'evil tongue'. Now the theory of lashon hara appeals to some 'proof texts' in the Torah, but it is largely a Talmudic and post-Talmud Jewish creation. Most famously, a Rabbi known as Chafets Chaim wrote a treatise on it at the end of the 19th century. And he, like earlier rabbis, regards it as one of the most common yet also grave sins, a sin that does great harm to relationships.

In this case, the rule against lashon hara is in conflict with the mitzvah not to stand upon the blood of your neighbor (Lev. 19). This is interpreted by later Jewish ethics as prohibiting being passive in the face of any wrongdoing. We have a positive obligation to stop the wrong, if we are able to. In this case, the wrong will be done to the students who don't get the exam, the teacher, and the society at large. Such deceit, known as geneivah da'at or "stealing the opinion" of another, is viewed as quite wrong, of course. So what is the student to do? My current thinking is that the right thing to do is for the student to tell a parent or a school counselor, so the scheme will be stopped, without 'fingering' the student who stole the exam. But it will be interesting to see what students and other teachers think. -And how the obligations would change if the student brought drugs, or worse, a gun.

My point here is that generalized virtues like 'truthfulness' do not give positive guidance in what to do in the way that the fuller development of Jewish ethics in the Talmud does. Now in other cases, we have to develop the ideas beyond what they are in the Talmud, and sometimes even modify them. But the key thing is that by being issue and case-oriented, as the Talmud is, we enable students to see how Judaism can guide and uplift their lives.

Unfortunately, such Talmudic concepts as lashon hara, though it is in the confession at Yom Kippur, are ones that most Reform Jewish are not familiar with. We need to do more than just quoting the great saying of the prophet Micah--to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God--and give some specific guidance to teens. This kind of engagement with our tradition engages both their critical thinking and their idealism, and is I believe our best hope of showing teens that Judaism is something that will be a treasure to study and live throughout their lives.

Theological Summer Camp

2008-08-19T20:33:48Z

By dcc
David A.M. Wilensky, RJ.org blogger, Kutz Campus regular and liturgy-wonk, was a bit offended by yesterday's post from the Society for Classical Reform Judaism's Executive Director Rabbi Howard A. Berman. His post on the Reform Shuckle outlines and deconstructs the argument that the SCRJ is a vital and important aspect of present day Reform Judaism.

My perusal of the rest of Rabbi Berman's post and of the Principles page of the SCRJ website leads me to believe that beyond [supporting] an increasingly outmoded aesthetic, there are no differences between SCRJ and the mainstream of the movement. Certainly the ideology the SCRJ labels Classical is no more than standard Reform ideology.

While I am not sure which theological camp is right (or more to the point if any camp can be "right"), it does seem a bit out of place to go to the extremes that have often been supported in posts and comments this blog. My hope for the future of Reform Judaism is that we move past these broad stroke definitions and focus on our mandate to be the light onto the nations, have our youth see those vision and do justice while we walk humbly with our God.

Kiev Revisited

2008-08-18T23:53:29Z

By Larry Kaufman
As regular readers of this blog may have noticed through my comments on other people's posts, I've recently returned from a river cruise through Ukraine -- fortunately arriving home before the Georgian crisis erupted -- and want to share some thoughts in three general areas:

Differences between Jewish and secular travel

The changes that appear to have taken place in Ukraine since my prior trip in 2001

Ukrainian roots for American Jews

Differences between Jewish and secular travel
Our trip was organized by Alumni Holidays International, and sponsored by several university alumni associations. Although open seating and general mingling prevailed aboard ship, our busses for shore excursions were organized by school, with passengers from less represented schools assigned arbitrarily to the busses of the dominant institutions, University of Chicago (my alma mater), Cornell, Dartmouth, Tufts, and William & Mary. Substantive content beyond that provided by very good local guides came through two lectures each from three professors, covering history, identity, and language issues. The role of the Jews is integral to talking about Ukrainian history, and was discussed both by the guides and by the academics. My guess is that about 20% of the audience was Jewish, with the percentage probably a little higher on the University of Chicago bus.

My 2001 trip didn't focus on Ukraine, but it did start in Kiev, where this trip ended, and then went on to St. Petersburg and Moscow. That trip was organized as a leadership mission by ARZA World Union, the short-lived combination of the Association of Reform Zionists of America and the World Union for Progressive Judaism - with the expectation that we travelers would return to the U.S. as missionaries for strengthening Progressive Judaism in the Former Soviet Union.

As might be expected, on the ARZA World Union trip, Jewish content was central, although we also got excellent coverage of key tourist sites in Kiev like the Friendship Arch, the Founders monument, and the Great Gate - but no churches. (We did visit churches in Moscow and St. Petersburg.) The first stop in Kiev on the Alumni trip was Babi Yar, where the local guide was open not only about the Nazi round-up but also about the Soviet effort to memorialize the tragedy without reference to Jewish victims. As the guide was concluding the visit with an eloquent recitation of the Yevtushenko poem, I asked those of my traveling companions who wished to join me in reciting Kaddish.

But beyond Babi Yar, the Jewish content in the professors' lectures and guides' commentaries was essentially peripheral, as part of discussing Ukraine's incredibly polyglot history. Nor were we shown any of the Jewish landmarks of Kiev: No Sholom Aleichem statue, no plaque marking Golda Meir's birthplace, no Brodsky synagogue.

The other contrast came in terms of creature comforts. Think dorm rooms and dorm food for the alumni trip; think four and five-star hotels when you travel with the Reform movement. (For a trip I was thinking of organizing, the travel counselor at ARZA's favored trip arranger advised nothing less than four-star hotels - our clientele likes its luxury.) My bottom line on this, as someone who travels three-star when I travel on my own, is that I'll go to France or Italy or the British Isles on a commercial tour, or an alumni tour, but if I'm going to places rich in Jewish history and culture, I'll choose the Jewish tour for its content, and accept the luxury as a bonus.

Changes in Ukraine since 2001
On our first night in Kiev in 2001, we came back to the hotel after Shabbat services at Congregation Hatikvah, and were having dinner in the glassed-in rooftop restaurant when the night skies lit up with fireworks. It turned out we had arrived on the tenth anniversary of Ukrainian independence and the city was alive with excitement and patriotic fervor....but it was still very much a Russian city. Three years after that visit, Kiev became the rallying point for the Orange Revolution, a successful peaceful uprising with its roots in protesting election fraud, but whose outcome placed in power the faction that looks towards Europe, ousting the faction that looks towards Russia.

We sensed a little more prosperity on this trip, but that may have been a matter of what we were shown each time - in 2001, a Joint Distribution Committee soup kitchen, in 2008, the riverside McMansions of the Ukrainian oligarchs. The city has grown about ten percent, to three million, in these seven years, including major expansion on the other side of the river, and the years since the Orange Revolution have seen a new emphasis on tourism. Only in Kiev, among the five Ukrainian cities we visited, did we find restaurants with English menus and with serving personnel who had a little of our language at their command.

As part of the move to identify more with Europe than with Russia, the push is on to grow the use of the Ukrainian language in preference to Russian. Historically, Russian was more prevalent in the cities, Ukrainian in rural areas, especially in the western provinces, farther away from Russia. Both are Slavic languages, with Ukrainian more heavily influenced by Polish and by the Russian dialect of Belarus. Both languages are written in Cyrillic, but there are subtle differences between the Russian and Ukrainian alphabets. (As a side note, I taught myself the pronunciation of the Cyrillic letters by using a siddur that included Hebrew transliterations.)

Whatever growth in affluence the city may have experienced, it has not rubbed off on the Progressive congregation. We visited Hatikvah's new home - which Rabbi Duchovny explained is half the size at twice the rent of the prior facility. Membership has been stable, which apparently is also true of the two Orthodox congregations, one Lubavitch, one not. Kiev has an estimated one hundred thousand Jews, about the same number as before the Nazis and the Soviets - but in the pre-Nazi days that hundred thousand represented about twenty percent of the population; where today it's about three percent. The Progressive movement has a great opportunity in Ukraine, as throughout the former Soviet Union, but only if we North Americans subsidize its development. One change that hasn't taken place in these seven years is the FSU budget of the World Union for Progressive Judaism, approximately $1.5 million compared to Chabad's $70 million. But that's a topic for another day.

Ukrainian roots for American Jews
One of the highlights of our 2001 trip to Kiev was a visit to the residence of the U.S. ambassador, which was decorated with paintings and sculpture by American artists of Ukrainian descent like Louise Nevelson and Andy Warhol. One thing I hadn't realized prior to seeing that art was how many artists I had thought of as Russian were actually Ukrainian.
This shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did. I had always thought of my paternal grandparents as coming to the U.S. from Russia - but actually they were from the outskirts of Kiev. My mother was born in what was then Poland, but is now Belarus. One tends to forget how fluid the borders were, as control of various territory shifted -- one day under the control of the Russians, another day of the Poles or of the Austro-Hungarian empire.

In fact, a story is told of the Jewish couple who were given their preference when the boundary line was being drawn between Poland and Russia - did they want to be in Russia or Poland. When Shmuel immediately opted for Poland, Rivke pointed out that the Poles were arguably more anti-Semitic than the Russians, True, Shmuel responded, but at least if we're on the Polish side of the line, we'll be spared the rigors of the Russian winter!

Looking at the borders as they are drawn today, and as they were in Czarist times, we have to remember that Jews could live only in the so-called Pale of Settlement, which included much of what is today's Ukraine. Whether our individual pictures of European Jewish life are drawn from family memory or from Fiddler on the Roof or similar literary sources, we have to remember that Anatevke/Kasrilevke and the rest of Sholom Aleichem-land lay somewhere between Odessa and Kiev - subject to the Czar, but in Ukraine, not in Russia.

Virtually every couple among our Jewish compatriots on the trip included at least one spouse who talked about a parent or a grandparent who had come to America from Ukraine. However, none mentioned adding an Everything is Illuminated excursion with a shtetl-shlepper in search of their roots. On our 2005 WUPJ trip to Poland, many of our travel companions visited the towns their ancestors had left sixty to a hundred years before.

My wife hopes eventually to visit Kamenetz-Podilsky, in western Ukraine, where her grandparents came from; our children adopted our grandson from Kharkov, in eastern Ukraine. But I have no family nostalgia, no sense of wanting to visit Kobrin or Bershtivke, partly because my grandparents and older aunts and uncles never wanted to talk about "the old country" with its apparently painful memories.

So why do so many of us travel to Warsaw, Cracow, Prague, Budapest, Moscow, St. Petersburg, and especially, I ask myself, why do I keep going back? It's more than the pull of the traveler's desire to see something new, or to see something old for the first time. I think maybe it's to fit a few more pieces into the jigsaw puzzle of who we are and of the forces that shaped us - and to gain an appreciation for our grandparents (or parents, or great-grandparents) who had the foresight and the courage to pull up stakes , bringing with them to America not much more than the treasure of Yiddishkeit.

But there's also some pleasure in seeing the resurgence of Jewish life, slow though it be, in places where so many efforts were made to eradicate it. My congregation in Evanston is Beth Emet, the house of Truth - but my congregation in Kiev is Hatikvah - the house of Hope.

Roles and Goals

2008-08-11T20:14:27Z

By Larry Kaufman
My teacher, Rabbi Fred Schwartz, used to remind us that synagogue leaders, both lay and professional, have to remember and cater to the congregation's two constituencies - the Prayers and the Payers.

Just as Torah can stand for the full body of Jewish learning as well as only for the five books of the Pentateuch, the Prayers as the rabbi used the term are not just those who attend services, but include all those who participate on a regular basis in the life of the congregation. The Payers, on the other hand, may be those who show up only for the High Holy Days and perhaps for yahrtzeit, but who unfailingly send in their dues (and maybe even more) to assure the financial stability and continuity of the institution.

To these two categories, I add a third - the Players, the officers and trustees of the congregation, the folks who make the decisions (or sometimes fail to make them) on what programs to offer the Prayers and what to charge the Payers.

All too often, the three categories -Prayers, Payers, and Players - are indeed three distinct groups. For our congregations to thrive, we have to build a culture where as many people as possible fit into at least two of the three categories - where those who consume the programs of the congregation, the Prayers, move into additional roles in designing the programs - as Players, and/or in underwriting the programs, as Payers.

Since I'm a realist, I concede that not every Prayer has the affluence to be a Payer (in this case, the capital P signifying Big Giver) nor the aptitude to be a Player; and I equally concede that we should say thank you to our check-writing 3-day-a-year friends, and not try to put them on a guilt trip because they're not Shabbat regulars. I stand on firmer ground, however, when I propose that every Player should fit into at least one of the other two categories.

That proposal is based on the well-known Rule of the Three W's as it applies to the composition of voluntary boards. The Three W's are Work, Wealth, and Wisdom - and no-one should sit on any not-for-profit board who doesn't bring two of them. The tycoon who shares his (or her) smarts and writes big checks, but is too busy to serve on committees, is kosher; so is the fellow of modest means who brings ideas to the table and follows up with the energy to implement them.

We've had a lot of conversation here at rj.org on the health of Reform Judaism. Much as I appreciate and have learned from the insightful and provocative Berkson analyses, I for one do not believe the health of our movement depends on our attitude towards the Talmud, but rather on our attitude towards our congregants. If we have healthy congregations, we'll have a healthy movement - and healthy congregations are based on understanding and serving the constantly changing Judaic needs of people - social, spiritual, and intellectual. Our congregants are by and large not concerned with ideology, whether current or historical.

They are completely comfortable in their American skins, and they come to the synagogue to "do Jewish." We need Payers and Players who can empathize with the Prayers - and the more they are among them, the better they can move our congregations forward.

The Muslim-Jewish Tipping Point - Full Post

2008-07-30T20:00:10Z

By Eboo Patel
(First posted on Newsweek/Washington Post's On Faith)
"Nobody believes you guys actually exist," I said to the group I was eating dinner with.

I was sitting with the North American Board of Reform Judaism's youth movement (called NFTY) at their summer leadership camp, Kutz.

These five teenagers were responsible for leading programming for thousands of young Reform Jews across the country. This year's study theme: Muslim-Jewish Relations. And these young leaders couldn't be more excited it.

I do interfaith work with young people for a living, and even I was taken aback by their enthusiasm.

"Tell me why this is so important to you?" I asked. The reasons spilled forth:

"Making new friends."

"Making peace."

"Sharing lessons on what it means to be religious in a secular society."

Susan Sontag once wrote, "Whatever is happening, something else is always going on." While newspaper headlines are dominated by stories of hatred and violence between Jews and Muslims, there is a quiet revolution taking place off the radar screen.

Last year witnessed an historic warming in Muslim-Jewish relations in America. Rabbi Eric Yoffie, President of the Union for Reform Judaism (the largest Jewish denomination in America, with 1.5 million members and 900 congregations), gave a well-received keynote presentation at the annual convention of the Islamic Society of North America (ISNA).

In the recent issue of Reform Judaism, the movement's magazine, Yoffie writes: "The time has come to engage in dialogue with our Muslim neighbors and to educate ourselves about Islam."

Professor Ingrid Mattson, the President of ISNA (an umbrella body for the millions of American Muslims) responded in kind by traveling to the URJ Convention and making these remarks:

"Muslims have instinctively turned to the example of Jews in America to understand how to deal with the challenges we face as religious minorities whether these challenges involve securing the right to religious accommodation in public institutions, or dealing with workplace discrimination. At the same time, I believe that the Jewish community will also benefit from having Muslim partners in the struggle to uphold the constitutional separation of church and state, to promote civil liberties, to extend religious accommodation to minorities and to counter prejudice and hatred."

There are other Muslim-Jewish efforts afoot. Organizations like Seeds of Peace, Search for Common Ground, Children of Abraham and Abraham's Vision, have been nurturing this revolution for years. Rabbi Marc Schneier's Foundation for Ethnic Understanding, which played a profound role in advancing black-Jewish dialogue with Russell Simmons, is focusing now on Muslim-Jewish issues.

We might actually be at a tipping point on this seemingly impossible issue.

And I have a hunch that it's young Muslims and Jews, just like the ones I met at the Kutz camp, who are going to push this thing over the edge.

Strengthening Reform: 4. The Challenge of a Changed Theology

2008-07-03T19:22:55Z

By William Berkson
In the previous installment in this series, I pointed out that there has been a quiet revolution in theology of liberal Jews. Most Reform Jews, including Rabbis, have rejected an interventionist God, but still accept and find meaningful a God who gives unity and purpose to the universe and to humanity.

The challenge this poses is highlighted in a long and thought-provoking article by Conservative scholar Jack Wertheimer, which has been noted by fellow RJ blogger Larry Kaufman.

Wertheimer points out the key weakness of Reform today: in striving to be "inclusive", it also has weakened its message and self-definition to the point that only a minority Reform Jews really passionately identify with Judaism, and many care little and know little about Judaism. And this weakness begins in religious school, where secondary Jewish education fails to attract the numbers of pre-b'nai mitzvah education, and where it often fails to develop any deep understanding or commitment in students.

As Larry pointed out, the main problem with Wertheimer's analysis is not that he is wrong about Reform, but that the same root problems exist in Conservative synagogues, because most people are mostly in the same place theologically. They manifest themselves a bit differently in the Conservative movement, but the fundamental problem that must be faced if we are to have stronger liberal Judaism is that with a non-interventionist God, communal prayer is no longer a compelling need for most people. Do we are we sure that God doesn't listen to prayers?

No. And we sometimes hope and pray that God will listen and act in the world, as well as strengthen us within. But generally we lack the strong conviction that God is listening and will respond by intervention.

An illustration of reality of this situation is an experience a friend had after 9/11. He was working in lower Manhattan, and saw the towers collapse, killing thousands. And so did almost everyone who worked in lower Manhattan. It was a personal and traumatic experience for everyone there.

My friend had been attending the Shul of New York a "spiritual Judaism" synagogue led by Reform Rabbi Burt Siegel. Rabbi Siegel, together with an amazing group of musicians lead inspiring services, designed in a get-closer-to-God 'Jewish renewal' spirit. That Friday night was strikingly different.

First, the place was packed to overflowing, and my friend saw normally secular and cynical Jews there whom he had never seen in synagogue. The second thing was that all the prayers, which can seem so extreme in their language, seemed to exactly suit what everybody had in their heart. That night, they came for prayer, and their prayers were a "plea for compassion and grace before the Holy Presence," (Avot 2:18).

These fervent prayers were unusual in a Reform synagogue because the whole synagogue--and many who never came before--had come to synagogue not for an emotional uplift, but because they felt a need for prayer. They wanted their prayers to be heard and something done. Doubts about how much God listens and would do were simply put aside.

Now I don't want to exaggerate. Reform Jews do pray with fervor at life cycle events, where the feelings of the occasion overwhelm doubts. But the reality is that a tiny minority of synagogue members regularly attend. The theology is just not there for weekly communal prayer being the center of Jewish life for liberal Jews.

There is, as they say, good news and bad news here. The good news is that most liberal Jews do believe in God, a God who gives unity and purpose to the universe and to our lives. And we experience the Holy Presence in our lives, particularly in intimate relationships, in nature, and in friendship, and for some of us in study. The bad news is that we don't experience God in the synagogue.

This remarkable fact is documented by Steven M. Cohen (of HUC) and Arnold M. Eisen (now President of JTS) in The Jew Within. They quote Jewish writer Cynthia Ozick as saying "The only place I don't feel Jewish is in synagogue." She may have meant it for different reasons (and it may be from another essay by Cohen) that a Reform Jew would, but it makes the point.

The question is then, given that a central ritual of Judaism is no longer as meaningful as it was for traditional Jews, what can Reform do that will make Judaism more compelling and central to the lives of the majority of Reform Jews--children and adults alike?

That I'll take up in my next posts.

Leslie Bass on Reform Judaism

2008-07-02T17:30:33Z

By David A.M. Wilensky
As readers of Reform Judaism magazine will recall, the RJ Magazine's summer 2008 issue included a series of important questions regarding the Reform Movement and their answers as given by 30 adult members of the Reform Movement.

I'm currently at the URJ Kutz Camp with a group of people who will be the future lay and professional leadership of the Reform movement in North America. I'll be featuring many of them as well as many of the younger Kutz staff members this summer in a series of posts here on the RJ.org blog, in which I will be asking Reform high school and college students (and perhaps a few 20-somethings) for their take on Reform Judaism via questions similar to those used in the Magazine.

Leslie Bass hails originally from Austin, Texas. This fall she will be a junior at the University of Denver, where she is a double major in Digital Media Studies and Journalism. This July, she will be travelling to Brisbane, Australia to study abroad at the Queensland University of Technology for five months. In high school, she was an active member of NFTY-TOR and board member of her local TYG. She attended the URJ Kutz Camp in the Summer of 2005 and spent the Summers of 2006 and 2007 as Kutz Camp staff.

Why are you a Reform Jew? "Because my parents are" is a valid answer. If it is because your parents Reform, what has kept you involved in Reform Judaism?
I am a Reform Jew because I believe strongly in choice through knowledge. With Reform Judaism, I have found the flexibility and freedom to ask questions, ask questions of those questions and their answers, and to choose the values, rituals, and prayer schedule that I personally find the most meaningful, thus making my own Jewish experience the most effective and satisfying spiritual life I could have.

What has belonging to a congregation (or a Temple Youth Group or a Kesher group or going to a URJ camp etc.) that is part of the larger Reform Movement meant to you?
Personally, the reason I have continued to return to my home congregation and Kutz, and why I participated in my local TYG and NFTY in high school, was due to the strong sense of community and peer interaction I found there. The camaraderie I found as a member of these groups was not only beneficial to me on a personal and spiritually enlightening level, but it is through these groups that I have been able to find my place in the larger Reform Movement. By giving teens a place to discuss, voice their opinions, pray, and meet other Jews, the Reform Movement not only brought me to a greater self-awareness but also awareness of the community and diversity around me. This has led me to a greater understanding and sense of responsibility and action toward worldwide social issues, like the genocide in Darfur or the war in Iraq. Starting out on such a small scale helps build identity at a small community level, which only helps to build a stronger and more cohesive movement.

What has been your most meaningful (or least meaningful) Jewish holiday experience?
Passover has been my favorite holiday since I was a child, and I was particularly nervous and a little upset that I had to spend Passover away from my large extended family my first year of college. Instead, my two best friends and I went to Hillel.

Although the seder was loud and disorganized, I found that spending the holiday with a new community, and learning this new community's minhag, was particularly enlightening and exciting for me. I think I felt particularly connected to my Judaism that Passover because I was not only forced out of my comfort zone, but was welcomed with open arms into another Jewish community to create a new seder experience as a new community.

Do you believe in God?
Yes. I often used to explain my belief in God by saying, "You know when you really just click with someone else? Or you feel totally calm and grounded and simultaneously alone and full? That's God."

Was the Bible written by God?
No. I look at the Bible as a guide that promotes values I believe in and do my best to live by.

How do you reconcile Torah teachings that may be inconsistent with your beliefs today?
It's easy to reconcile Torah teachings with my modern beliefs if only because I recognize the passage of time and changing cultural, social, and natural environments that, I believe, are an easy answer to the problem of deviation from Torah teachings. The most important thing I find in the Torah are the values found throughout, which are really the Torah's one and only true, enduring message.

Confronting the Big Issues

2008-07-02T17:07:55Z

By Larry Kaufman
Those of us who are concerned about the condition of Reform Judaism today, and where it (we) may be headed in the future should read Professor Jack Wertheimer's article from a recent issue of Commentary Magazine.

The article has been the subject of discussion on the Union's iWorship list-serv, and was particularly well summarized there by Dr. Randi Thompson, based on discussion of the article by the Board of Congregation Albert in Albuquerque, led by Rabbi Joe Black. Here's the collective New Mexican take on what Wertheimer said:

Reform Judaism has avoided the decline that Mainline Protestants have experienced by being welcoming to the intermarried and to the GLBT community, inclusive of women, and liturgically diverse.

However, the movement does an abysmal job of educating its members and raising its kids into involved Jews, and has only maintained its numbers because of so many defections from Conservative synagogues. There might be a vast gap between Reform's professed values and the religious desires of its (declining number of) male adherents. Furthermore, the stress on individual choice has a negative effect on commitment to Jewish community. In fact, Reform really stands for nothing besides inclusiveness. It's members will continue to become less and less Jewishly literate and identified, and then will come the decline the Mainline Christians have already experienced and that Reform has until now avoided.

Many of the points Wertheimer brings up have been discussed both here on the blog and also on the list-serv: the notion of obligation, and the focus of the individual over the communal. Dr. Thompson reports that her group thinks (and I agree) Wertheimer's kidding himself if he believes the same issues aren't happening in the Conservative movement. These issues are important in all of non-orthodox Judaism. In particular, I'd find it interesting to see more statistics showing the Conservative performance on measures for which Wertheimer worries about Reform (such as retention of young people post-bnai mitzvah, participation in adult education, percentage of members attending Shabbat services, etc).

It should be noted that Wertheimer has a lot of praise for the Reform movement's successes. When Wertheimer criticizes Reform -- or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, predicts dire results -- it's autonomy that he centers on, allowing adherents to choose what they will observe. This of course is not true in the Halachic Conservative movement, whose adherents are obligated to kashrut and to Shabbat observance, to name two yardsticks. Those readers of this blog who know Conservative-affiliated Jews are well aware that they are all kosher and shomer shabbos, and by the way, I have a bridge in Brooklyn I'll be pleased to sell you.

When I was first getting involved in the Reform movement some thirty-plus years ago (having grown up in Conservative Judaism), my rabbi used to say that if I wanted to know what the Conservative movement was going to do tomorrow, I should look at what the Reform movement did thirty years ago. When I repeated this one day to one of the rabbi's younger colleagues, he responded that his senior was behind the times -- the gap had shrunk from thirty to ten years. Calling women to the Torah, counting them for a minyan, ordaining and investing them -- need I say more?

This is not to say that we should not be concerned about the things Wertheimer says we should be concerned about (most of which are already on the Union's agenda). And I daresay he is already expending energy trying to get his own house in order. After all, while he worries about the dangers that lie ahead for Reform, Conservative Judaism is already racked by schism, plagued by attrition, and characterized by enormous observance gaps between the pulpit and the pew. But Randi Thompson posits on behalf of her colleagues that American Judaism, throughout the non-Orthodox streams, won't survive another generation just on a sense of ethnic heritage. We're going to have to wrestle with our ideas of God and chosen-ness and commanded-ness and obligation to normative Judaism. How we answer those Big Issues, she says, will in turn drive how our worship looks and sounds, and with whom we are worshipping.

Witness to History: Past, Present and Future

2008-07-01T17:49:52Z

By JanetheWriter
Today marks the first anniversary of my visit to Oświęcim, the Polish shetl town in which the Nazis built the Auschwitz concentration camp. Sometimes, still, when I close my eyes, I see the infamous "Arbeit Macht Frei" entry gate and the iconic low brick building that marks the entrance to Birkenau, the neighboring extermination camp. On that long, long day last year, I walked the railroad tracks, stood in the barracks and in the crematoria. I gazed into the glassy water of the pond whose dark depths still cradle the bones and ashes of those whose lives were snuffed out there. I saw their tallitot, their tefillin. I saw their shoes, their eyeglasses, their hair. I saw the canisters of Zyklon B used to kill them. Their names--known and unknown--are indelibly etched in my heart. I know these people. I am a witness to their history--to my history.

Fast forward from July 1, 2007 to March 19, 2008, the fifth anniversary of the United States' invasion of Iraq. Sadly, whether my eyes are open or closed, my mind's eye shows me nothing of this atrocity. I don't see the brave souls who are fighting there, nor those who anxiously await their return. I don't see the tanks or those hunkered down inside them. I don't see the guns or those who use them. I don't see the desert bivouacs or those who live in them. I don't see the maimed bodies or the tortured minds, nor hear their anguished cries at night. I don't see the roadside bombings or the faces of those they kill. I don't see the flag-draped coffins--more than 4100 to date--as they glide off the transport planes. I don't see the funerals. I don't hear the gloomy notes of Taps. I don't know these people. I don't know their names. I am not a witness to their history--to my history.

I want to see these people. I want to know them. I want to learn their names. I want to be a witness to their history--to my history. But more than that, I want them to come home. My mind steps back a generation--to a different time, a different place, a different war. When I close my eyes, I do see them. I see them alight from overflowing transport planes, grinning and waving. I see them descend the metal staircase to the cheering crowd nearby. I see them on the tarmac, entangled in yellow ribbons, confetti, balloons and, finally, awash in long-saved hugs and kisses, safe in the arms of those who love them the most. After that, I don't want to see them--or future generations of them--ever again.

It is up to us then, as our conscience dictates, to demonstrate, to letter write, to vote, speaking truth to power. It is up to us then, as our tradition demands, to beat our swords into plowshares and our spears into pruning hooks. It is up to us then, to work toward the prophetic ideal. Then and only then will our soldiers--and we--go forth in peace, knowing war no more.

Josh Levin on Reform Judaism

2008-06-30T22:17:30Z

By David A.M. Wilensky
As readers of Reform Judaism magazine will recall, the RJ magazine's summer 2008 issue included a series of important questions regarding the Reform Movement and their answers as given by 30 adult members of the Reform Movement.

I'm currently at the URJ Kutz Camp with a group of people who will be the future lay and professional leadership of the Reform movement in North America. I'll be using many of them as well as many of the younger Kutz staff members this summer in a series of posts here on the RJ.org blog, in which I will be asking Reform high school and college students (and perhaps a few 20-somethings) for their take on Reform Judaism via questions similar to those used in the magazine.

Josh Levin lives in Sarasota, Florida. He is a senior in high school. This year Josh will be the Religious and Cultural Vice President for the North American Federation of Temple Youth's Southern Tropical Region. Josh has three summers of experience at the Kutz, NFTY's Campus for Reform Jewish Teens. Next year, he plans to attend the University of Florida.

What is significant about Reform Judaism? What sets us apart from other North American Jewish movements? How does that make us stronger? How does it make us weaker?
As Reform Jews, we need not feel obligated to our religion or yearn to fulfill every commandment (especially those we take moral issue with, see animal sacrifice or stoning). We need only take what connects us to Judaism and the Jewish people in modern times. This makes us stronger as we are forced to think and to choose for ourselves what from our tradition is for us in a modern world and what from our tradition is not, while maintaining that tradition for the next generation.

Why are you a Reform Jew? "Because my parents are" is a valid answer. If it is because your parents Reform, what has kept you involved in Reform Judaism?
My parents are Reform. More specifically, my mom wanted to convert, but not to orthodoxy. Reform was the obvious choice. My ability to choose for myself and life as a modern person while maintaining my Judaism and connection to the Jewish people has kept me Reform.

Do you believe in God?
Yes.

How do you feel about Reform synagogue worship (or worship you've experienced through NFTY or Kesher or here or at other URJ camps) as it's practiced today?
The traditions are varied and widespread. That is one of the incredible parts of the Reform movement: there is no "right" way to conduct a prayer service. The only issue is people not understanding why the tradition is what it is, wherever they are praying.

Is social action central to your identity as a Reform Jew?
Social action is central to my identity as a person. Simply the experience of being a human being means to me that I should support other people. Being a Reform Jew, I feel especially responsible to other Jews. "All Israel is Responsible for One Another" is one of my guiding principles as a Reform Jew.

Was the Bible written by God?
No.

How do you reconcile Torah teachings that may be inconsistent with your beliefs today?
Torah is an ancient book fundamental to the survival of the Jewish people. But I have quite a bit of faith in the documentary hypothesis, so it is not a huge issue to me that Torah and the life standards of an ancient time past do not apply today.

Do you believe God hears our prayers?
Yes. But it is up to us to carry out our own goals and dreams we contain in our prayers or we will be doomed to a passive life without any of those prayers being fulfilled.

When do you most experience or feel closest to God?
I feel that by creating good we bring ourselves closer to the divine, as everything God created was supposedly good. So by taking responsibility for my own creation, I feel closest to God.

Is the State of Israel important to you and to your Jewish identity?
It is paramount in both. Most peoples of the world have a state belonging to them. This is true for the Jewish nationality as well. Only thanks to Israel is it easy to understand "Jewish" as a nationality and us, Jews, as a people with a bond stronger than religion.

Looking to the future, what are the most significant challenges we face, as a Movement and as North American Jews?
Not speaking Hebrew, having a poor Jewish history education, and living in America without visiting Israel are the three issues of American Jewry that will connect us less to the Jewish people and more to the American people (or Canadian people). If that trend continues, it will become harder for Jews living in America to identify themselves that way and easier and easier to just be American. Assimilation, for all intents and purposes, is the biggest threat to American Jews.

Comfortable

2008-06-30T18:26:07Z

By Mary Hofmann
I think comfort is based on a perception of competence . . . you can't feel comfortable when you don't understand what's going on and don't know how to act appropriately in a given environment.

People come to Judaism with great trepidation, intimidated by the enormity of what they don't know. Often worse, Jews born to Judaism but raised in a totally secular environment, feel even more intimidated by all they think they should know in their very genetic structure, and don't - so they stay away, embarrassed and defensive. We want to be welcoming, but the sheer amount of knowledge the aspirant lacks might well be forming an insurmountable wall for many.

I'm a teacher, so I'm immersed (sometimes drowning) in a sea of frameworks and standards. For all the shortcomings of current educational philosophy (another whole topic), the idea of developing some sort of framework of the knowledge and skills a competent Reform Jew might aspire to, is intriguing to me. And it might provide a guide for the novice Jew (to say nothing of the rest of us!)

It seems to me that one of Reform Judaism's greatest strengths (and maybe its perceived weakness) is its emphasis on individual choice within an almost transparent framework of acceptable norms--and I mean transparent with all its positive and negative connotations. Could we not, by way of consensual agreement, come up with a framework of those things one might strive towards to feel comfortable and competent as a Reform Jew?

Judaism is SO big and there's so much to learn--the very reason I love it so. I want to be at least conversant in so many areas . . . how such and such came about, how and why we do this or that, how to act appropriately within environments I might never have experienced--of which there are many. And so my life is an ongoing Jewish education that I also use to try to educate others. A succinct frame or guide for focusing would be enormously helpful--and possibly a lifeline for many.

Keep the simcha simple

2008-06-27T01:04:24Z

By Mary Hofmann
While I enjoyed reading the many perspectives of the contributors to Reform Judaism this month, I was truly saddened by the plight of Elise Silverfield May and those in her situation (which includes a whole lot of us, on a lot of levels!)--the perceived high price tag of being Jewish (page 61 or online here).

Her particular alarm rang concerning the temple members' expectations around her son's upcoming bar mitzvah, which were terrifyingly grandiose. This concern connects well with Rabbi Yoffie's comments at the Biennial regarding congregants reclaiming Shabbat morning services from the grip of private "parties." If we don't want Reform Judaism to become increasingly about status and wealth, I believe this problem needs to be addressed both in terms of reclaiming both the sanctuary and the sanctity of the event. I guess it has to do with the values established at each congregation--and all of our opportunities (and obligations?) to revision those values regularly.

Sometimes I feel lucky to live in a remote community where Jews with visions of grandeur wouldn't settle. In Merced, California, our first bar mitzvah (my son's, in 1980) was pulled off on a wing and a prayer and a lot of scrambling with the entire community involved in every aspect--from Rob's training and preparation to building the service to putting on a sort of planned potluck luncheon. It was a triumph for all of us--and set a pattern that has continued for nearly 30 years. We've had a few catered, but the norm is homemade from the get-go, the celebration is for everybody, the child not only does the regular mitzvah training, but helps with everything else, the family (and friends) create the service booklet, the child is invited to participate in adult (including board activities), and the party--lunch and something geared for kids--wraps it all up in another hour or so.

Our kids aren't missing anything. I'd guess our kids are as, or more, prepared than most. I find it sad that anybody has to feel such a warm and wonderful family and community event has to be a burden on anybody. I bet you'd all love our celebrations--and wouldn't feel like anybody had to be the envy of anyone to feel warm and fuzzy and accomplished.

Jade Sank on Reform Judaism

2008-06-25T21:26:07Z

Jade Sank is a 17-year-old recent high school graduate. In the fall she will attend Hobart and William Smith Colleges in Geneva, New York. Jade was a member of NFTY-GER, serving as the 2007-2008 NFTY-GER Secretary. She attended the URJ Kutz Camp in the summer of 2006 and the Urban Mitzvah Corps in the summer of 2007. This summer, she is hard at work as a member of the Avodah staff of the URJ Kutz Camp.

What has belonging to a congregation (or a Temple Youth Group or a Kesher group or going to a URJ camp etc.) that is part of the larger Reform Movement meant to you?
Belonging to my congregation, my TYG, NFTY, Kutz, and Urban Mitzvah Corps has meant everything to me. My eyes have been opened by the millions of ways that I can get involved and make connections not only on a North American scale but a world scale. By becoming involved in many different ways I have achieved small goals that will eventually help the Reform Movement become stronger. The best part about being part of the larger movement is that through the small things I do, I will see the results on a larger scale.

Do you believe in God?
I used to have a very strong sense of God, but over the past year or so that sense seems to have become quite watered down. I would say that, yes, I do believe in God, but my belief is dwindling.

Do you believe God hears our prayers?
No. I believe that the reason we say prayers is for ourselves. Prayers remind us of our responsibilities to others, ourselves, and our traditions. When we say prayers aloud, or even to ourselves, it is like writing a sticky note to remind us of something important that we may forget in the scramble of everyday life.

Was the Bible written by God?
Absolutely not.

When do you most experience or feel closest to God?
When I am with a tight community of people who I know are experiencing kavanah. When others around me are concentrating and feeling personally spiritual, I feel more comfortable and more connected to the community and God. When people are paying less attention and are not interested or connected I feel awkward and further away from God.

What Jewish ethical teachings do you think are important and should be passed on?
Any teachings that have to do with tolerance, pluralism, understanding, and/or respect should be passed on and practiced regularly.

Is the State of Israel important to you and to your Jewish identity?
Yes. I believe that Israel is extremely important to the overall achievement of a strong Jewish presence in our world today. I think that Israel provides, quite literally, common ground for Jews all over the world.

Time to Talk

2008-06-24T23:37:28Z

By Rabbi Eric H. Yoffie
(First posted as an op-ed on Israel News)

The time has come to engage in dialogue with our Muslim neighbors and to educate ourselves about Islam.

Dialogue is especially critical now. We live in a world in which religion is manipulated to justify the most horrific acts and where Islamic extremists constitute a profound threat. When fanatics kill in the name of God, sensible religious people have an obligation to do something about it.

What is our task? To find the voices of moderation and to reclaim from the fanatics the true essence of religious belief. To do this, we must know what Islam truly stands for and engage in dialogue with our Muslim neighbors.

To this end, the Union has begun working together with the Islamic Society of North America (ISNA), an umbrella body of more than 300 mosques that brings 30,000 people together at its annual convention. We chose ISNA as our partner in dialogue because the society has issued a strong, unequivocal condemnation of terror, including a specific denunciation of Hezbollah and Hamas violence against Jews and Israelis. ISNA has also recognized Israel as a Jewish state and supports a two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Last September I was the first major Jewish leader ever to address the ISNA convention, and three months later ISNA President Dr. Ingrid Mattson addressed our Biennial convention.

Today ISNA and the Union for Reform Judaism have prepared an adult education curriculum on Islam. I urge every synagogue to consider offering a course on Islam as part of its adult education program.

In search of fruitful dialogue, the Union and ISNA have also created a five-session dialogue program (manual and video) to be used by Reform synagogues and ISNA mosques. Nowhere in this dialogue will we feed each other pabulum. Instead, we will assert our convictions with passion, even as we remain respectful of our disagreements, and we will not avoid the subject of Israel.

We enter into this dialogue with our eyes wide open. We know that ISNA--a large, unwieldy coalition--contains some anti-Zionist elements that cause us discomfort. We also know that while we have had extraordinary success with dialogue in Great Neck, St. Louis, and Omaha, so too we have had our share of failures. Nevertheless, we must not desist from this task. America is one of the very few places in the world where the promise of true pluralism is not too wild a hope. And in this great country, we are stronger and safer when we transcend our fears and work together.

Taking back "Religious" and "Traditional"

2008-06-20T07:41:53Z

By David Fair
The Reform Movement in America is well over a hundred years old. In that time, our movement has developed and expanded many customs and ways of life that reflect a culture, rich with tradition and background. Yet it's a rare week when I don't hear one of our congregational leaders give a sermon where we are not compared to the more conservative movements of Judaism. What I hear the most is how we are justified in not following the Conservative and Orthodox customs of Kashrut, Shabbat, fasting holidays, and the like.

What is also very interesting is to hear our leaders use the term "traditional" or "religious" when referring to Jews from the more conservative movements (or when referring to customs that the more conservative movements of Judaism embrace). As a member of the Reform Movement, I find using phrasing in this manner to be rather insulting. Reform Judaism has its own traditions and religiosity.

Dating back to the mid 1800's, American Reform Judaism has gone through many practices and changes that have created a rich and expansive set of traditions. For example, traditional Reform Judaism implanted the use of heavily harmonized and complex choral music designed for choirs and organ accompaniment on Shabbat. Other examples include constructing pews, holding services on Sundays, using the title of "Reverend," using instruments (which is actually a ancient Jewish tradition), and entirely English Siddurim. We are a movement with quite a history and "tradition" of observance. By saying that other movements are Judaism are "traditional" or that the members of the more conservative movements are "religious" and not us, devalues Reform Judaism.

The words "traditional" or "religious" should not be terms entirely reserved and owned by members of the more conservative movements of Judaism. I follow the traditions of Reform Judaism. Likewise, I am a religious Jew in the Reform movement. What does that mean?

I maintain a healthy diet and an athletic lifestyle, thus treating my body with dignity (because we are made in the image of God). My Shabbat is a day that I treat very differently from the rest of the week. I do my very best to treat others with Gemilut Chasadim. I am a serious environmentalist (Tikkun Olam). Thus, I consider myself "religious." What makes me religious is that I follow the observances, practices, and laws of my religion - of what I know to be my heart's interpretation of Judaism.

It would seem that we have become a movement that feels that to define ourselves, we must first say how we do not do things like the more conservative movements. By describing the practices of the more conservative movements of Judaism as more "traditional" or "religious," we are demeaning Reform Judaism. We are making it seem to our children as if we are this misfit, young, radical movement that needs to be justified and defensive in our practices.

I would like to see leaders in the Reform Movement try to not use these ambiguous phrases of "traditional" or "religious." I am religious and I follow tradition: the Reform Tradition.

David Fair is the songleader of Temple Sinai in Pittsburgh, PA.

Finding Real Peace

2008-06-20T05:08:02Z

By Dave Abbey

Real peace will come to the Middle East when both Israelis and Palestinians accept each other's story as 'legitimate'. People may have strong feelings about the 'other' side of the story but have to accept that each side feels it's case is the truth.

A two state solution is the only workable solution to ensure a viable Jewish state and a viable Palestinian state. Both sides have to make compromises which will 'hurt' but will bring a long-awaited peace between neighbours. An agreement on lands (more or less on pre1967 borders with negotiated modificationis); displaced persons (refugees); and Jerusalem (invariably it will not be an undivided city) with guaranteed access to all religiously-significant sites, will bring peace to that area.

Dave Abbey is a member of Temple Israel/Congregation Iyr HaMelech in Ottawa/Kingston CANADA

Of Covenantal and Other Special Relationships

2008-06-17T18:46:28Z

By JanetheWriter
Last week, I drafted--and ultimately scraped--a post for this blog because after it was written, I came to realize that not only was it much too personal for the vast world of cyberspace, but also, because I wrote it in anger after someone challenged my belief in the Jews' covenantal relationship with God, I wanted to give myself some time to reflect on what I was saying.

Then I read the article in the New York Times quoting a letter from Abraham Foxman to Pastor John Hagee in which Foxman writes, "We look forward to meeting with you to promote a dialogue between Christians and Jews based on mutual respect, reconciliation and the recognition of God's eternal covenant with the Jewish people." Since Foxman raised the covenantal issue with Hagee, I've reconsidered my scraped post and, after a lot of thinking, I'm giving it another shot:

I love to read the wedding announcements in the Sunday New York Times, taking special note of how the couples met each other, the lives they've lived and, in the case of the Jewish unions, the clergy who officiated at the ceremonies. Bolstered by these weekly vignettes of found love, and ever optimistic that there's a great Jewish guy out there for me too, I've been known to prowl the usual cyberspace venues dedicated to such matters--jdate, match.com, and the yahoo personals, always setting the search criteria to "Jewish" for the latter two.

In a recent email exchange with someone on one of these sites, the issue of "chosen-ness" came up, which got me to thinking about the need to answer for myself the question of why it is so important for me not only to limit my search to "members of the tribe," but also to find someone within the tribe who cherishes and celebrates being Jewish in the same liberal way that I do.

Like Abraham Foxman, I believe in God's eternal covenant with the Jewish people. However, I don't think it's at all about God choosing us. Rather, I think it's all about us--individually, collectively and for all time--choosing God by upholding our end of the covenantal relationship with God that I believe defines us as a religious (not a cultural or an ethnic) people.

So what does this mean for me on the dating scene?

It means that rather than settling for the first culturally or ethnically Jewish guy ("Jewish but not religious" in jdate-speak) who comes along, I will wait for someone for whom being Jewish is more than English sprinkled with Yiddishisms, bagels and lox on Sundays, and reading Philip Roth's latest novel.

It means seeking out a special someone who, although he doesn't necessarily count the omer, kiss the mezuzah or lay tefillin, he does treasure and celebrate being Jewish in a way that consciously marks the passage of Jewish time and ensures that it is personally meaningful to him.

It means finding someone who understands that even if our Friday night plans include nothing more than Chinese take-out and Netflix, the evening will be more special if we start by lighting Shabbat candles.

It means being with someone for whom eggs and pancakes in an all-night diner after a Tikkun Leil Shavuot study session is a great date, and it means finding someone who understands that whether or not we believe that we personally crossed the Red Sea to flee the Egyptians or stood at the foot of Mt. Sinai ourselves, Passover foods (both what we eat and what we don't) remind us that even today, slavery and oppression are rampant in our world and it is our obligation to partner with God to erase them.

And lastly this: It means that although I don't necessarily need my special someone to share my view of the covenantal relationship between God and the Jews, I do need him to possess his own defined and active relationship with Judaism, and be willing to share it with me.

A New Window in Time

2008-06-12T22:14:06Z

By Barbara K. Shuman
Having reached the age of 62, I thought I had experienced most Jewish life-cycle events: my own confirmation and marriage, the birth of children, brit milah and pidyon haben for our son, bar and bat mitzvah of our children, the death of a parent and grandparents, and the marriage of our daughter. However, last weekend I added another to the list - the naming of our first grandchild. Like many young adults, her parents are not yet affiliated with a synagogue. They identify as Jews, but shun established institutions.

They waited until she was 9 months old to create their own ritual. I think it was worth the wait.

Jordan's mother (my daughter) researched baby naming ceremonies, and adapted one that spoke to her. We were invited to their home on Shabbat for the ceremony. Parents, grandparents, aunts,uncles and a cousin were each assigned a reading. The words acknowledged the baby's uniqueness, prayers for her health and happiness. Her mother prayed that she "greet the world with passion, courage, humor, creativity and love."

Others invoked blessings of learning, strength, patience and a compassionate nature. Joyfully her parents recited a blessing of bringing their daughter into the covenant of Israel, and we all said Shehekiyanu.

Perhaps the most moving part was the explanation of her Hebrew name by each of her grandmothers. Jordan was named after her father's grandfather and her mother's grandmother (my mother). We shared memories of these loving ancestors, spoke of their qualities and imagined what they would have hoped for this new life. We shed tears and laughed as we remembered them and prayed that their memories would be a blessing, even as Jordan Elyse Pollner, now Yardena Tova, would be blessed. I know we will all long remember this beautiful day and the joy of celebrating together.

Do I really belong?

2008-06-11T20:12:56Z

By Elise May
I received a phone call yesterday that really bothered me. It was from a local Jewish organization that my young son and I belong to. The person (let's call her Miss Smith) was calling to inform me that I was behind in my membership fees. I explained that I send in as much as I can each month when I receive a bill. I was absolutely appalled to be asked, "Is $20 and $30 a month the best you can do?" If that is the amount I am sending in, one might think that is all I can afford, right? The call ended by Miss Smith basically saying that if I do not get caught up with the fees, my son and I won't be able to continue our membership.

To their credit, this organization did offer us a lower fee than the standard membership fee, but it is still much more than I can pay. Thus, I have been sending the $20-$30 per month. After this recent conversation, I feel completely unwelcome and don't know if I want to continue my membership (even if I could somehow get caught up).

This same thing happened at the Jewish Community Center. I had to give up that membership because I could not afford the dues. The ironic thing was that I contacted the local YMCA and they were more than happy to welcome my son and me. They asked me to simply pay whatever I could afford each month. My son was able to play soccer and take swimming lessons while I was able to use the exercise facilities. Isn't it a bit ironic that we had to leave the JCC because I couldn't afford it, but the YMCA (a Christian-based organization) didn't care how much or how little I was able to pay?

We seem to be so worried about Jews straying from the religion, but we sometimes make it so difficult for people to have a sense of belonging in the Jewish community. I am both hurt and saddened at the thought of my son and I being turned away from yet another Jewish group because of my income. I am trying to raise a child strong in his Jewish identity, yet I find myself being disillusioned by the cost of being Jewish.

Why should how much money you make determine if you can be a member of the JCC, a certain synagogue, or any other Jewish group or organization? Shouldn't we be making it a point to allow anyone to be part of Jewish groups regardless of if they can pay the fees? As Jews, we need to take care of one another and not exclude people just because their bank account isn't as large as some. What will God care about more--how much money we made or how much time we spent doing mitzvah projects and helping others? I believe it is the later.

Kabbalist to hot-dog vendor: one with everything

2008-06-10T17:34:16Z

By Laurance Kaufman
My rabbi used to tease me about being a Litvak. Having read Y. L. Peretz, I knew this was not an ethnic pigeon-holing; it was a character assessment. It was Peretz's Litvak who scoffed when the townspeople explained the rebbe's mysterious disappearance early each Elul morning by saying he was visiting Heaven.

Only a Litvak would have followed the rebbe to see where he really went. And perhaps only a Litvak, discovering that the rebbe was disguising himself as a peasant and gathering firewood to see an impoverished elderly widow through the winter, would have commented the next time the townspeople talked about the rebbe going to Heaven, "If not higher."

My rabbi was recognizing my skepticism -- cynicism may be a better word -- about most matters of faith and spirituality. After all, I'm the guy who comes to shul to talk to Ginsburg, when Ginsburg comes to talk to God. When the synagogue management mavens told the temple board that we needed a mission statement, I could be counted on to say that bet tefila, bet midrash, bet knesset (house of prayer, house of study, house of assembly) had been good enough for my ancestors and it was good enough for me. When the membership and outreach gurus told us the success secrets of the mega-churches, I could be counted on to say that we didn't need a full house, all we needed was a minyan.

Thus I was part of the claque for Rabbi Arnold Jacob Wolf when he participated at the San Diego Biennial with Rabbis Lawrence Kushner and Zoe Klein, to provide a counterpoint to their spiritual-mystical approach to the synagogue. Covenant and sacred obligation speak more loudly to me than do spirituality and Kabbalah. Having said that, it was a quip from Rabbi Klein that set me on the road to my major Biennial take-home: As the kabbalist said to the hot-dog vendor, make me one with everything.

Make me one with everything. Shma Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad. One God, one people, at one with everything.

Flash forward to the panel discussion with Pastor Rick Warren, Professor Ron Wolfson, and Rabbis Laura Geller and David Wolpe, with an overarching theme being the need to welcome people into the congregation, to recognize them as seekers, and to turn them into doers, to give everyone an individual ministry that furthers the mission and transforms the institution into a community.

As I heard the voices from the platform urging us to fit square pegs into round holes, the Litvak in me surfaced, and I thought of our other great triad, Torah, Avodah, Gemilut Hasadim - a different formulation for bet t'filah, bet midrash, bet knesset. Some come to the synagogue for study, others for worship or for social action. Different strokes for different folks. A department store, not a boutique.

When we have to cater to so many different ages, types, interests, backgrounds - how do we make the synagogue one with everything? In the months since the Biennial, I have nurtured the sparks that were lit in San Diego - and have now recognized that when a synagogue is successful (success measured in terms of meeting the multiple and varying needs of its congregants), it is because it is a bet midrash, bet t'filah, bet knesset - but those are not three things, they are one thing. Prayer is fused with study and community, the community learns as it gathers to do God's work, and study even of the most secular material relates to sacred Jewish values.

It was once fashionable for Reform temples to proclaim, "My house shall be a house of prayer for all peoples." Today we all know that we have to be more than houses of prayers, but must also be houses of study and human connection. Some of the humans who come to connect will be seekers, and some will be Litvaks. But when we make the three things one, the seekers, the students, and even the Litvaks can be one with one another.

Green Camp

2008-06-10T17:22:15Z

At a meeting of URJ Camp directors in early March the Reform Jewish summer camps took the first steps as a system in partnering with FUSE (Faiths United for Sustainable Energy) to work to make camp "greener." Since that time, many camps initiated a partnership with FUSE to demonstrate this commitment to the environment. Lisa David, associate director of URJ Camps explains some of these projects in this new RJ.org podcast.

Reform and Zionism

2008-06-10T17:20:41Z

By William Berkson
As I was walking back from the 60th anniversary celebration on the National Mall last Sunday, I was thinking about what I had learned in the past year about the histories of Israeli and American Judaism.

Reform Judaism as a movement was originally opposed to Zionism, and only became Zionist after the rise of Hitler. I had been long aware of this, puzzling at it as an odd fact of history. But over the past year I became aware that there were fundamental issues involved. And it seems that the switch to Zionism took place without really addressing them. And the unresolved issues still are important for the relationship of Reform Judaism--indeed American Judaism as a whole--and Israel.

The two stories behind American and Israeli Judaism are in fact two nearly opposite responses to modern historical events.

The starting point was the same for both. In the middle ages, Jews were regarded both by themselves and others as a nation in exile, living in largely self-governing communities in foreign lands by sufferance of the local monarch. And Judaism was at once a religion, an ethnicity and a nationality. This situation changed radically during the European Enlightenment, as West European nations and America started to accept Jews as full and equal citizens of their states--at least in theory. Furthermore the economic position of the mass of Jews in these countries improved.

The leading response of German Jewry to this situation was that Jews should renounce aspirations to nationhood, and minimize appearance of ethnic separateness. Judaism should be a religion only, and that way full citizenship in the nation-states of Europe and would be made compatible with Judaism. This ideal of Judaism as only "ethical monotheism" was one cornerstone of the original Reform movement.

In Eastern Europe the situation was radically different, as the Enlightenment was never put into practice. Instead, Jews were suffering from increasing poverty and cruelly oppressive governments. The Rabbis in Eastern Europe, following the quietism of medieval Judaism, had nothing to offer to help their people except prayer, study, and mystical escape. Furious with the impotence of the Rabbis to address the desperate needs of the people, many Eastern European Jews angrily rejected Jewish religion as a useless appendage, and turned to political firebrands who were preaching radical social change through socialism.

In this atmosphere, secular Zionism was born. The feeling was: let us embrace our Jewish heritage as an ethnicity and nationality, but reject both our impotent religion and our oppressive exile. Let us create our own secular socialist state for a new future as an ethnic group and a nation, and create it in our ancient geographic home.

A lot has changed since these ideologies were created over a century ago, and very few people today are still motivated by them in their original form. But neither in the US--which became the center of Reform Judaism--nor in Israel have the underlying philosophies been fully rethought and reconciled. The result is that the attitude of American and Israeli Jews toward Judaism are poles apart. For Americans, the decision to identify with Judaism is largely a decision about whether and how to be religious. For Israelis, Jews are Jewish by virtue of Jewish descent, living in Israel and speaking Hebrew. Their attitude toward religion is secondary, and is either 'hiloni', the dominant secular view, suspicious of religion, or 'dati', religious--meaning the Orthodox, who were a minority of Jewish immigrants of the last century. The Liberal Judaism originating in Germany--Reform and Conservative--has not been on the mental map of Israelis, though the American movements are now working hard to put it there.

How can this gap be bridged? A very interesting light on this question is shed by the book Liberal Nationalism for Israel: Towards an Israeli National Identity by Joseph Agassi--an Israeli philosopher who spent much of his career teaching at universities in both the US and Israel (and a former teacher of mine).

Agassi points out that nationalism as an ideology was in its origins largely reactionary, a reaction against the universalist ideals of the enlightenment, and an effort to create and support a unified nation of German speaking peoples. These reactionary origins have stigmatized nationalism in the eyes of liberals, and that stigma has been an excuse for anti-Zionist sentiment in left-wing politics.

Agassi argues against this bias that a liberal nationalism is viable, and hence a liberal Zionism. Cultures are real, and can be an engine of creative and progressive development. Hence the desire of a culture to a state in which it can thrive is not in itself objectionable, and can be very positive. However, that state needs to be a liberal state. That is, it must allow minority cultures an equal chance to thrive.

And here is where Agassi faults present the structure of the present day state of Israel. In his view the current state of Israel fails to be liberal enough because it does not separate religion and state. Instead of establishing a new constitution separating religion and state, Israel at its founding adopted the prevailing system left over from the Ottoman Empire, with different religions getting tax support and having some legal jurisdiction over their own separate communities.

For Agassi, this lack of a liberal constitution was a founding "original sin" of the state of Israel, and still is at the root of many of its problems. For example, in Agassi's view the key to resolving the Arab-Israel conflict is the full recognition and equal treatment of Israel's own Arab citizens. And in his view this can only be accomplished in a state that separates religion and state in the manner of the Constitution of the United States.

Agassi's analysis is focused on Israel, but I think it has very interesting implications for the relationship between Judaism in the Diaspora and in Israel. To me it suggests that to fully develop in a more internationally united way, Judaism in Israel needs to be on the same footing that it is in the US. Thus the separation of religion and state in Israel would be an important step to the positive development of Jewish culture worldwide.

That changed status of religion in Israel would of course only be one step toward a more productive interaction between Israeli and Diaspora Judaism. I'll consider some other step in another post.

EG's Challenge

2008-05-30T20:40:16Z

By Emily Grotta
At the editorial board meeting for Reform Judaism magazine in Pittsburgh, we talked about how we might extend the conversation that began in the latest issue of the magazine.

One member of the editorial board talked of getting Reform Jews of all ages -- particularly teens and college students -- to write about what Reform Judaism means to them in an upcoming issue of the magazine. Another wanted us to reach out to Progressive Jews in the FSU, South Africa, Israel, Europe and elsewhere, creating yet another special section on "Jews of the World."

As a member of the board but also a member of the staff, I try to be as respectful as possible. That means I try to follow the standard brainstorming mantra that no idea is a bad idea. But it's sometimes hard to figure out how to make what is a criticism and add to a suggestion. But this one was easy.

"Teens and college students aren't reading the magazine," I said. "And neither are the Jews abroad. But maybe, just maybe, they'll read and contribute to the blog," I continued.

So here's the challenge: any teens or college students out there? What about the budding Progressive community in the FSU? Please speak up and let us know!

Beyond the for what approach

2008-05-28T22:46:38Z

By Marge Eiseman
One of my friends asked me today, "Why do we need synagogues?" She and her family used to belong to a big congregation that venerated their building (so much so that many people quit when the old building was sold). Now they are building again, and she's worried that the focus will again be on the building and not what is going on inside. And even though the rabbi and cantor are menschen, she still hasn't joined again.

I have my own reasons for asking the question, since it is the season for renewing membership. We just got the annual letter from the executive director, explaining that we have to choose our dues category. Realistically, I don't think a family that earns $40-50,000 a year can pay $1,639 in dues.

Even if one avoids the "for what?" approach of fee-for-services (no pun intended), it's hard to believe that after food, shelter and clothing, such a large percentage of one's income could be directed this way. The synagogue becomes an elitist institution, or less-affluent congregants have to ask for dispensation on dues, which, even if easily granted, is still mildly embarrassing. Why do we need this affiliation?

"A life-cycle event might make them join. What makes them stay?"

Silence.

I remember that at a recent lunch with this same friend, we were talking about how you can't "give God" to another person in crisis -- but witnessing them in the struggle was a Godly thing to do. So I realize that I'm witness to her struggle about being in the community, and the place of study and prayer in her life.

She didn't stay, so I'm not preaching to the choir. What could I say that would let her understand why I do stay? One of my reasons is historical -- this is the congregation that I grew up in. And as I travel around the country as a guest teacher, inevitably, I find myself sharing this tidbit with pride. I stay because I've made my community there. I've learned from my friends' parents and taught my friends' children. I feel the continuity of love from generation to generation. In some way, it's like "Cheers" where everybody knows my name.

But I can't say that to my friend. Her story will be different. So what I really want to say is, "Join and stay because there is mystery in life, and we have fellow explorers in the synagogue to walk with, and if we're lucky, our clergy and teachers will be our guides. Or stay because something transformative can happen in those life-cycle events, if you are open to that, or because the community of the congregation multiplies their efforts in making the world better."

Do you have better reasons? I'd love to hear them.

Am I sheltering my son too much

2008-05-27T13:12:07Z

By Elise May

I was raised in a small town in Arkansas, total Jewish population 6! Up until the 6th grade, I didn't realize I was that much different from my friends.

However, 6th grade was a turning point--it was the first time I was teased because of being a Jew. I remember it to this day (even though it was 27 years ago), my teacher had asked us to write one word to describe each student in the class. My friend, Kim, wrote "Jew" by my name. After that point, my Jewishness seemed to really make a difference. Whenever my friends and I had a disagreement, they always made a negative remark about me being Jewish. Growing up as the only Jewish child in town, I felt profoundly isolated and alone. I felt like the only Jewish kid on the planet.

Fast forward to present times, I am now the mother of an amazing 11-year-old son. When I became a mom, I decided that my son was not going to go through what I went through. I went to great lengths to ensure that he attends a school where there are other Jewish children. In fact, his school is over 50 percent Jewish. We are very active in our Temple, and my son attends Jewish summer camp.

I found it interesting last fall when my son was surprised that a few of his classmates attended school on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. We talked about how everyone is not Jewish. It struck me how different our childhood perspectives were. I had no Jewish children around growing up, and I felt odd because I was so different. My son, on the other hand, thinks it is unusual that someone in his class is not Jewish.

I think it is wonderful that my son has the strong Jewish identity that I never had growing up. I am thrilled that he doesn't have to feel like the one who is different. But, the big question looms...am I sheltering my son too much? At some point, he will be in class with, or work with, or be neighbors with people who are not Jewish. Am I doing him a favor or doing him harm?

What's Next

2008-05-20T23:26:55Z

Where are we going from here? Three writers from the Guide to Reform Judaism: 30 Stories have an idea. Dana Jennings, Martin Shapiro and Elise Silverfield May live different Jewish lives and see different Reform Jewish futures.

Martin Shapiro: I would love to see our temples devote more time to study and social action and less to rituals such as bending our knees and bowing during services, dressing and undressing Torahs, parading them around our temple, and discussing fixed Torah portions that are overly difficult to relate to today. Prayer shawls, too, are an unnecessary distraction to the practice of modern Judaism. Instead, let’s devote more time to the oneg after services, when congregants can get to know each other, which is as important as participating in worship.

Reform Judaism will change in various ways, some that I will endorse and some that I won’t like. But the one thing I hope will not change is the freedom of choice to engage in those practices that each of us finds personally meaningful.

Dana Jennings: I ache to see all Jews, worldwide, set aside their petty grievances over styles of observance, over who is and isn’t a legitimate Jew, and simply embrace their brothers and sisters in Jewishness.

Then I want to see those same Jews and their children, and their children’s children, embrace Torah the way you embrace your first true love, the way you embrace your spouse after 50 years of marriage, the way you embrace your mother upon her deathbed. Our future does not depend on a third vacation home or a lipstick-red Porsche. Our future abides in Torah.

Elise Silverfield May: One of my big concerns about the future is the high price tag of being Jewish. Take my son Matthew’s upcoming bar mitzvah.

Matthew and I recently attended our first bar mitzvah together. We watched as our friend read from the Torah, led the congregation in prayer, and impressed everyone with his maturity and knowledge. Then, we entered the “party zone” and realized we were not in Kansas anymore. In a museum reception hall fit for a king there were tables set with china and crystal, a huge buffet lunch, a magician, a tattoo artist, a hip-hop dancer, and the loudest DJ I’d heard since my senior prom.

During a break from dancing and eating, I spoke with some other moms about their b’nai mitzvah planning. When I let it be known that I hadn’t done anything yet for Matthew’s event, which was still 20 months away, I felt eyed by every mom at the table. Then the well-meaning comments began: “What do you mean that you haven’t secured a dancer? All the good ones will be taken.” “You’ll never get a party venue at this late date.” Although I’m sure the comments were not meant to be critical, I felt like a total failure before I even left the starting gate.

So first thing Monday I began making arrangements. In Dallas, I quickly learned, one cannot find a suitable venue complete with tables, chairs, plates, silverware, and linens for less than $2,000. And that’s without the food, which would cost at least another $2,000. If I hire the “must have” hip-hop dancer, that’s $2,700 more. Add the invitations; the photographer; a new suit for my son; well-deserved gifts for the rabbi, cantor, and Hebrew teacher, etc. How can a single mom who barely makes ends meet afford a bar mitzvah party that could cost nearly $10,000?

When I think of my son becoming a bar mitzvah, I imagine him taking on a role of responsibility in our temple. Embracing our religion and participating in our congregation—that’s what a bar mitzvah should be about.

Isn’t there a way my son can have the sense of Jewish community I never had growing up, without the expensive price tag?

Inside the Guide to Reform Judaism

2008-05-16T19:50:52Z

Thirty years ago keeping posted, the predecessor to Reform Judaism magazine, was devoted to “What is Reform Judaism?” Editor Aron Hirt-Manheimer wrote that Reform Judaism “is often described in negatives.” Here he talks about the changes since 1978.