I'm Done With Reform Judaism
After months of not going to Shabbat services, Julie and I decided to start checking out synagogues in LA. We have no shortage of options. In a two-mile radius around our apartment there must be at least thirty little store-front schuls. It's like nothing I've ever seen before but I don't think those are quite for us (what with separate entrances for men and women).
On our way to and from work there is a gorgeous old synagogue built in the twenties by a Reform congregation founded in the late nineteenth century. Ignoring the congregation's age as a warning that the service would be "high Reform" and thus a little too Lutheran for our taste, we decided to go check it out.
Services started at six so we went straight from work. We parked outside the building and went inside to find the Friday night service. This building was incredible. First of all its enormous. More importantly its like nothing I've seen in California so far. It has serious pedigree and a long heritage. The main sanctuary sits under a massive vaulted dome supported at times by marble columns and adorned with stained-glass windows. The bima is at the front, as it typical of all Reform and most modern synagogues (instead of in the middle of room like in older synagogue architecture). The congregation occupies a downward sloping arc of pews and a massive balcony. The space is truly awe inspiring.
But this main space wasn't where the Friday night service takes place. That space is reserved, I assume, for the high holidays, bar and bat mitzvot and weddings. Instead, the Friday night service was in the Max Factor (member of the congregation I assume) memorial chapel.
Julie and I were encouraged that one of the two Rabbis leading the service was a woman but started to lose hope when we surveyed the siddur. Undeterred by the decided lack of Hebrew in the prayer book we pressed on wanting to give the service a chance.
It was bland but that wasn't the problem. The problem started when the Rabbi who led the service started his sermon. He just returned, you see, from a trip to Eastern Europe touring concentration camps (which is, apparently, all that could possibly interest a Jew in that part of the world) that culminated in a visit to Israel. As you might guess from my aside, his framing of the trip was the typical one for that generation. Eastern Europe, the narrative goes, is where bad things happened to Jews. Yes there are communities growing again but they are small, almost futile attempts, to revive the Eastern European diaspora.
Israel is where all the action is at for the Jew, according to this narrative. Had Israel existed, you see, the Holocaust would never have happened, he boldly asserted.
Already my jaw was on the floor. The use of the Holocaust as the primary narrative for contemporary Jews, as the lens through which we evaluate everything before and after, is deeply troubling.
Even more troubling is the assertion that the founding of the state of Israel was the inevitable and favorable outcome of the Holocaust. Sadly he didn't stop there.
The day he landed in Israel is the day that "we" went into Lebanon. He made a point to let us know that he didn't go to Haifa and that in the southern part of the country, in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, he felt perfectly safe. He felt protected by the power and might of the invincible Israeli military.
We American Jews must admire and support the men and women of the IDF in whatever they do, he asserted. We must not forget that "our" soldiers never target civilians with our bombs while the enemy, who wants nothing more than the destruction of Israel and Judaism, lobs its missiles without regard for the target. We must remember, he declared, that there is no moral equivalence.
At this I had enough. Julie was turning red with rage and I was fidgeting so much with anger and discomfort that we had to do something. We looked at each other knowingly, stood up, and left.
We had hoped for a pleasant Shabbat experience, for a release from the week, for the chance to participate in some small way in the rituals and religion we both have so many mixed feelings about. Instead we were berated by a man who boldly ignores the deep complexity of every issue confronting our people.
Solutions to the current crisis and resolution of our historic wounds will not happen by thoughtlessly repeating talking points. If we cannot, in our safest place, our house of worship and study, wrestle with the real problems then where can we? We must be honest about what it happening.
The war that is going on right now, that is killing men and women and children right now as I type these words, is the result of far more than the simple narrative of defense in the face of a cruel and heartless enemy. Israel made policy decisions that were wrong. When a nation is attacked and under threat there are multiple ways to resolve the situation. In very similar situations even Ariel Sharon engaged in prisoner exchanges. And yet when this situation arose, in both the Palestinian territories and Lebanon, Israel was forced to act from the position it imposed on itself by refusing to deal with the Hamas government in Palestine and by refusing to negotiate terms with Hezbollah.
Now it looks like Israel is bogged down in a conflict that looks eerily similar to the position of the United States in Iraq. Israel seems to have dramatically underestimated its opponent and is now suffering dearly.
Isn't military defeat at the hands of an enemy you have ridiculed a greater blow than the appearance of weakness risked by negotiation? Isn't this profound statement of weakness what is being risked?
I, as a human being and a Jew, do see moral equivalence here. I cry for senseless death on both sides. This war is not the only option. I am critical of Israeli policy not because I oppose Israel and support Hezbollah but because I think we must try to wrestle with the problems we see leading to and exacerbating this conflict. I feel closer to Israel, and to the American government in matters of American policy. I believe that reasoned analysis of their actions and ideas can help lead to a better solution, can help to choose something other than war from the "good" options before them.
But more on this and the current tragedy later.
The point at hand is that I feel that I cannot find individuals willing to discuss these issues with any depth in the Reform movement. The conversations always seem too black and white to even be worth having. Aren't we supposed to be a people steeped in debate, always rejecting definitive answers and nitpicking every shallow reason or excuse? That is what Judaism is for me, it is the compulsion to truly wrestle with the hardest issues as we try live them.
Since 4th grade this has been the movement of Judaism I have known to be my own but, for now at least, I cannot be a part of it.
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Who is this guy?
Sam & Julie--About 3 and a half years ago, Julie & I had an excellent, passionate conversation at the Bradley library in which we both voiced our frustrations with the very types of issues you addressed in this posting. In the 5 years since my conversion in Peoria, I, too, have struggled mightily to figure out just where I fit into the world of Judaism, and much of my struggle involves (and has always involved) the fervent "100% pro-Israel-no-matter-what" political stance of so many members of the local Reform congregation.
One of the things that made me fall in love with Judaism--indeed, one of my major reasons for converting--was what I personally consider to be part of the true essence of Judaism: the concept of tikkun olam. I've had a passion for social justice since 1991, and in every religion I've explored in the last 15 years, I've gravitated to the social justice movements within that denomination.
In terms of Jewish ritual, I also fell in love with the beautiful Hebrew language, particularly the elegantly simple but so meaningful Kiddush exclamation: L'chaim! (To life!) And then there's my favorite Hebrew word, shalom.
I also enthusiastically embraced the Jewish tradition of intellectual and theological debate...I loved it when the Rabbi told me that Judaism actually encouraged people to study Torah and the Talmud AND to formulate their own opinions and engage in debate about what it all meant. I loved the fact that publications of the Torah, Talmud, and other Jewish works included "commentary" by various scholars. The tradition of intellectual and theological study, ongoing personal spiritual exploration, and even theological argument appealed strongly to the part of my personality that resents having my beliefs and life choices dictated to me.
Which is why I feel so conflicted. I keep asking the questions: What is the Great and Powerful Israel (Wizard of Oz reference fully intended) doing to promote social justice? What is Israel doing to honor life--indeed, to protect it? I believe that a human life is sacred, whether that human is Palestinian or Lebanese or Israeli. And frankly, I feel a growing sense of shame every time I read about an innocent life lost at the hands of an IDF bullet or rocket. I'm sure the word "shalom" is spoken thousands of times every day in Israel, but what is Israel doing to truly promote "shalom"--PEACE?!
Maybe I am just naive and ignorant about what Judaism is REALLY supposed to be about, because after all, I'm "only" a convert (though according to the Rabbi who conducted my conversion instruction, converts are supposed to be considered equal to those who were born into Judaism). But here's my gripe, in a nutshell: what Israel is doing--and HAS been doing, for many years--politically and militarily, just doesn't seem to be authentically Jewish. And I just don't get it when Jews claim to embrace the principle of tikkun olam, then act as if Israel is infallible--simply because, hey, it's ISRAEL, after all, and "real" Jews support Israel, right?
I guess I support the concept of Israel on a spiritual level--but I often despise the politics of Israel. So does that make me a "bad" Jew?
Lately I've been finding a lot of solace in Tikkun magazine and certain books by Rabbi Michael Lerner. It comforts me to know that there are other people in the world who feel passionate about Judaism AND social justice...people who embrace Jewish spirituality and traditions but still attempt to examine Israel more objectively. If only I could fly to the SF Bay Area every weekend to attend synagogue, huh? (Hmmm...then again, I do have an aunt & uncle who live in San Mateo...maybe I could stay with them?!)
I haven't attended the local Reform synagogue in nearly 2 and a half years. I desperately want to participate in services, as well as religious education programs, Torah study, etc., but I don't want to feel pressured to stifle my opinions or compromise my own personal Jewish values, just to be able to be part of the Shabbat and holiday rituals. I've forgotten almost all of the Hebrew that I had learned so eagerly during the months that I was studying for my conversion (for me, it's a "use it or lose it" kind of thing). Every Friday as sundown approaches, my heart aches...
I'm so lonely in my Judaism. Ironically, my Hebrew name is (alert: novice Jew's feeble attempt at transliteration) "Simecha" (which means JOY). Lately, I'm not feeling like a very joyful Jew.
Right now I'm reading Spirit Matters (by Michael Lerner), as well as Deborah, Golda and Me (by Jewish feminist Letty Cottin Pogrebin), and I'm trying to stay connected--at least on a mental & spiritual level, if not in person--to what I believe is authentically Jewish.
Anyway, I can sincerely empathize with your plight. Don't give up...physically, I'll be here in Peoria, but in my heart, I'll be searching with you as you continue your quest to find a kind of Judaism that will allow you to be true to yourselves.
Shalom--
Jane in Peoria
Wow, sounds like a bit of a pickle.
As a person who grew up outside of any particular religious faith (and considers himself more-or-less atheist), but has fleeting ties with Judaism (my paternal grandfather was Jewish, converted to LDS by Mormon missionaries to buy his family time to get the heck out of The Netherlands during WWII), I can see how this is a conflict: you want to participate and become part of the local Judaic community, but the local community ascribes to all of the unattractive aspects of the Reform movement.
Sounds dreadful, to be honest.
Of course, there's a certain sense of adventure in being a non-conformist rebel, who makes people think. So maybe it's worth finding a congregation where you'd be willing to ruffle a feather or two. Challenge their beliefs, ask them why they think the way they do, listen to their arguments, and present your own. Make 'em squirm a bit, but make 'em think.
You might - just might - expend their horizons and make their community that much better.
Of course, it could be as absurd as the LDS Church was in Utah, where I grew up. Their politics are so well-ingrained that there's virtually no point in challenging the political zeitgeist within a congregation - it may even lead to excommunication. That's a big part of the reason I left Utah: the group-think and group-speak affected all of culture and politics to the point where anybody not "of the faith" was relegated to out-of-the-loop status on many, many things. And while it has changed a little since I left, it's still unwelcoming to somebody who wants to be involved and not run headlong into cultual and religious red tape.
But oh, how I miss the mountains, the skiing, the scenery.
And I know how much you have on your plate, Sam, so perhaps another major task (and this sounds like it's a major amount of inertia to overcome) might be better for a later time.
Or not.
Perhaps it's just the coffee talking, now.