Yom Kippur: Being a Proud Reform Jew
Sermon by Rabbi Jennifer Hartman
2012/5773
Recently a blog post circulated among reform rabbis [1]. The article surprised and appalled many of us. Written by Rabbi Berg Wein, an orthodox rabbi, the article begins: “The modern liberal Jew has redefined Judaism according to his or her wants and fashion. The modern liberal Jew cares more about their child attending an Ivy League school then having a Jewish education, is ashamed of Israel and abhors tribal loyalties”. The rabbi goes on to say: “As long as attending Harvard or Yale is more important to Jewish parents than giving their children a basic Jewish education and the ephemeral pursuit of utopian world justice is more important than Shabbat or marrying a Jew then the disappearance of large swaths of American Jewry is guaranteed”.
This is quite the criticism of modern liberal Judaism! Wein is not alone in his critique. A professor of mine at the Hebrew Union College, Steven M. Cohen, writes and teaches that intermarriage will bring about the end of Judaism [2]. This he told to a class of 25 rabbinical students, 20% of whom were born into intermarried families. Wein and Cohen are only representing half of the picture! They are not in this synagogue, and they do not see what I see every day.
Rabbi Wein accuses us of being ashamed of Israel. We are not ashamed of Israel. We, especially those of us under 35, ask different questions than previous generations. This does not however mean that our connection has weakened. Almost half of last year’s confirmation class chose to spend an extended amount of time in Israel and Temple Israel sends a full congregational trip to Israel every year. I have spoken with people in their 20s and 30s so eager to take a trip to Israel they have opened savings accounts to make this a reality. In addition, programs on Israel fill our auditorium!
We are accused of living Judaism in a way that is unsustainable. I find this difficult to believe when 16 and 17 year old students ask to continue their Jewish education past confirmation. With sports and exams, extracurricular activities and homework, they still want to commit time to learning and being together in the synagogue, when we engage them in real relationship and meet them where they are at.
I believe that Jewish families want to make a commitment to Judaism when we have great interest in our pilot program, Judaism in Real Time. This program asks families to commit time to learning, studying and practicing Judaism together, in their homes and the synagogue. On Rosh Hashanah afternoon we gathered together to eat apples and hone, sing songs and discuss the lessons of this season. Instead of parents dropping their children off at religious school or Hebrew school and continuing on with their day, Jewish learning becomes a family endeavor. These are families committed to living the Jewish calendar, not changing it to fit their needs.
I believe in the power of Reform Jewish theology when conversion students sit in my office and tell me that their attraction to Judaism came from our emphasis on education and tikkun olam. They tell me they love the fact that Judaism does not ask you to leave your analytical skills at the door when you enter the building. They feel empowered by the reform movement’s tag line “choice through knowledge”. This lets them know that they will be able to live a Jewish life that makes sense to them within the context of the modern world. The pursuit of world justice is not our weakness, but one of our greatest strengths. Isaiah tells the Israelites to be a “light unto the nations.” How can we possibly do this if we only interact with the Jewish community? One of the most famous quotes by Rabbi Hillel is: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am only for myself, what am I? If not now, when? We live out our religious ideals and our desire to work for the good of the community when we work to improve the world. By actively supporting the Vote No campaign Temple Israel demonstrates to all the residents of Minnesota that as Jews we perceive that all people are created B’tzelim Eloheim, in the image of God. We express to all that we will not stand idly by as one group is discriminated against. Our confirmation students learn this lesson when they travel to the Religious Action Center in Washington D.C. and meet our congressional representative and senators to make their cases for or against issues about which they are passionate. Last year 100% of our class attended this trip and it looks like we will be close to the same this year. These are students who understand that their Judaism is about both civic and religious responsibility.
If there is anything that the High Holy Days teach us, it is that life is complicated and messy! Judaism sets out black and white principles of right and wrong, but we live in the grey area between them. We want to come to Temple on Yom Kippur, but we don’t really understand why we can’t break our fast with eggs and bacon. We love and support Israel and we want to visit, but we also want to go to Spain, Italy and France. We want to fall in love with who we fall in love with, but we want to marry them under a chuppah and break a glass. We think peace will come in the Middle East, but we are afraid that it might not. Student Andrew Lustig insightfully and elegantly describes our complex, ambivalent, passionate identification in his spoken word poem posted on you tube [3]. He tells the viewer:
“I am the Jewish star tattooed on the chest of the Jewish teenager who chooses to rebel against his parents and grandparents warnings of a lonely goyim cemetery by embracing that same Judaism and making permanent my Jewish identity.” “I am a concept foreign to the rest of the world, I am not Judaism I am sleep away camp.” “I am your grandmother who has seen Auschwitz and Berkenow, who has seen 49, 67 and 73; who is tired of trying to make peace with those people who just want to blow up buses and destroy her people. I am the 19 yr old who has seen Budress, Waltz with Bashir and Don’t mess with the Zohan and who thinks, who knows, peace is possible. I am the complicated reason you take the cheese off the burger you eat at the Saturday morning tailgate. I am never asked if I have horns or a pot of gold, if I rule the world or killed Jesus. I am asked where my black hat is, if I really get 8 presents on my Christmas, why my side burns aren’t long and if I really have never tasted pork. I am asked what a gefilta fish is, I say I don’t know, I don’t like it, nobody does, but we eat it anyway”.
“I am on JDate and not match.com because well it is just easier that way. I am your Hebrew name, your Israeli cousins, your torah portion, your 13 candles, your bat mitzvah dress and the cute Israeli soldier on your birthright bus. I am 18 when I discover that Israel is not actually a Garden of Eden, of milk and honey where Jews of all backgrounds come together eternally grateful to do a hora in the streets. I am still confident that it will be. I am the way your stomach forgets to be hungry and your lungs forget to breathe when the rabbi commands the final tekiah gedolah and the entire congregation, the congregation that is not a synagogue but an entire people listening to the call of the ram’s horn. I am Jewish.” [3]
Many of us can relate to something in this poem. This spoken word piece was posted on YouTube on January 11th, 2012 and has had over 250,000 hits. The video has been posted on websites and blogs. It speaks to Jews because it highlights the contradictions and struggles with which we all live. Judaism is a religion but also a culture, it is about community but also the individual, it is a legal system but also a system of belief. It is particularistic, defining Jews as God’s chosen people, but also universalistic with an understanding that all human beings are needed to make the world a fair and just place. It is a religion that is over 5,000 years old yet it is still relevant. It is always the same yet ever changing and right now we are in a period of great change. As Rabbi Zimmerman spoke about on Erev Rosh Hashanah, the world is changing quickly around us and as Jews we must decide if we will change with it or become irrelevant.
Judaism has a great tradition of change. “Rabbi Moses Isserles the great author of the preeminent code of Jewish law, the Shulchan Aruch, enunciated the principle of “Ha-idana – the present time” in his own legal writings. This principle holds that if contemporary sociological conditions and philosophical understandings have changed from what they were in earlier epochs, then adaptations and changes in customs and practices are permitted and even required. Rabbi Isserles teaches us that Judaism’s views change and adaptation is part of our heritage, even as our people continue to find rootedness and celebrate the sense of community that derives from the traditions that we have inherited.” [4] Moses, a Jew may have been given the Torah for the Israelites, but Adam, a human, was given dominion over all the earth. We are the inheritors of both of these gifts. We are Jewish. We feel it in our bodies and souls. But, we are also human beings and we want to be as much a part of the world community as we are a part of our Jewish community. Many clergy reacted defensively to much of Rabbi Wein’s article. But, when we took a step back, we realized the article had some valid points. The article brings to light truths that we must take into consideration if we are to truly understand ourselves and others perception of us, even if it is hard to hear. Our commitment to Israel may seem as if it is waning when families choose to send their teenager on a summer experience to an obscure part of the world rather than Israel because they can go on Birthright for free. Birthright is an amazing and wonderful opportunity for students disconnected from Judaism. It gives them a chance to explore their Jewish roots and uncover their Jewish heritage. All too often it is used by people with strong Jewish upbringings who choose not to prioritize exploring their homeland.
We cannot ignore Wein’s statement that Judaism is in danger when parents do not prioritize Jewish education. We at Temple Israel can only teach the children who enter our classrooms, and you, the parents and grandparents are the only ones who can guarantee they will be there. I remember when I was in 6th grade. I, the child of a cantor and ordained rabbi, asked my mom if I could end religious school with my Bat Mitzvah. My mom looked at me and said: “I would never let you drop out of secular school at 13 what makes you think I would let you drop out of religious school at 13?” That, as they say, was the end of the discussion. With one sentence my mom taught me the importance of Jewish education.
The modern world gives us a choice. We can choose to be Jewish or we can choose to leave our heritage behind. We can choose to celebrate our Judaism only in our home and hide our faith outside, or we can live our Judaism wherever we are. These are difficult decisions for us to make because we feel so comfortable in the modern world. I mean, how can we possibly feel like outsiders when Jon Stewart proudly speaks about being Jewish and the Colbert Report does a bit on Rosh Hashanah? Yet, we still struggle with our choices. I know, because I have to make them also.
Temple Israel has been blessed with a wonderful female rabbi for 25 years. Our members are not surprised to see a rabbi in heels or wearing a dress or make-up. Even though there have been women in the rabbinate for over 30 years, in the popular imagination a rabbi is still an old man with a white beard and long payyos. I feel lucky to be able to be a rabbi in a congregation where I can truly be myself. You would be surprised by how many people in New York City were stunned to hear that I was in rabbinical school.
In a city with 1.5 million Jews one would think the average person would know what it means to be a rabbi, yet I would get some truly interesting questions and comments. My favorites were: “Is that like a nun?” and “Can rabbis get married?” I must be honest. I sometimes wondered if it was worth telling people that I was studying to become a rabbi. It would not be hard to give myself a new profession. Whereas here in Minneapolis it feels like every other person works for General Mills or Target, in New York, its finance. All I would have to do is say that I worked in finance, pick one of the five or six major firms, and the conversation would quickly turn to a new topic. It would be a fast and easy way to avoid what often became an awkward and intense conversation.
How do I know it would be so easy? I tried it a few times. I was curious. What would it feel like to hide my profession? How would the conversation flow without the look of shock, the quizzical expression, the fumbling with what to say next? How would I feel different if I did not have to explain to the person standing next to me that really I am a normal person?
Well, I can tell you now, it did not feel good. It was uncomfortable. It was a lie. I was not presenting my true self. The conversations went flat. It had nowhere to go because I was not being myself. I loved that I was studying to be a Rabbi and I am proud to be a Rabbi. Judaism is, and has always been, a big part of who I am. Judaism gives me direction in a complicated world. It is where I turn when I have big questions or small problems. Jewish holidays and rituals are what bring my family together. It is my moral compass, my guide when life becomes confusing.
I chose, consciously and purposefully, to commit to Reform Judaism. I did not pick a form of Judaism that is the easy way out, I did not pick Judaism for lazy Jews, I did not pick inauthentic, unsustainable Judaism. I did pick Judaism that is complicated and difficult because I believe in its message. I did pick Judaism that enhances life through ritual and tradition. I did pick Judaism that moves my soul and my spirit. I did pick Judaism that provides me with guideposts in a universe that is often hard to navigate.
Reform Judaism, liberal Judaism, is not perfect. Judaism is over 5000 years old while Reform Judaism is not even 200 years old. We still have to work to identify how we can best be Jewish in this ever spinning world. We do not even have a name that properly fits us. We are called– Reform, liberal – none are quite right. We need to continue to explore our relationship to each other, to Israel and to the wider community. We need to commit ourselves to Jewish learning and Jewish practice. We need to solidify our feelings of community. During this time of soul searching we need to examine the criticisms imposed on us and look into our communal selves to see if we have indeed missed the mark. Liberal Judaism has much to offer the Jewish and secular worlds. There is meaning we can garner and purpose we can uncover if we are willing to take the time to do so.
We will only gain as individuals and as a community when we strengthen or beliefs and our practice. I would like to end by adding my own versus to Andrew Lustig’s poem: “I am the proud Bat Mitzvah who leads Shabbat morning services for my community. I am the student who is sad to go on summer vacation because I will miss my religious school friends. I am the 20 something who attends Shabbat evening services and then goes to dinner with friends. I am the teenager who learns about my heritage while trekking through Israel with peers. I am wearing high heels, fashionable clothes and a kippah to lead services. I am what a modern rabbi looks like. I am how a modern Jew acts. I am proud.”
[1] http://www.rabbiwein.com/blog/post-1378.html
[2] http://www.jewishlife.org/pdf/steven_cohen_paper.pdf
[3] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJe0uqVGZJA
[4] Rabbi David Ellison, HUC-JIR Chronicle 74
