There wasn't much compassion when it came to bread. It was 2006, and I attended a fellowship of rabbinical students across denominations that met every week over dinner. Our purpose was to cultivate compassionate Jewish leadership.
For three months, we argued over the proper conduct of grace after meals (birkat hamazon). Was there a minyan (quorum under Jewish law)? With seven men and eight women did we have a quorum? Jewish law, or halakha, only counts men; the liberal Jewish denominations do away with gender distinctions.
Even if we had ten men and seven women, a quorum by any standards, who then would lead the zimmun, the invitation to the grace after meals—always a man (the requirement according to Orthodox Judaism), or sometimes a man, sometimes a woman? These questions dominated our conversations, until one week the group leader, a female Conservative rabbi, took away the bread.
Perhaps we require a different paradigm for Jewish inclusiveness. For a generation we have relied on shared ritual. But ritual runs directly into contentious issues such as gender separation, and leads to the stark contrast of the highest or lowest common denominator. The result is to uproot ritual—the articulation of faith as expressed differently by each denomination—from its foundations, and force a compromise with which no one is comfortable.
Rabbinical sources provide us with a better way to foster an inclusive Jewish community. The Mishnah (the first written compendium of rabbinical law) states in Tractate Avot (3.6) that when ten people are gathered to study Torah, the Divine presence dwells amongst them. In other words, there is holiness and authenticity in their endeavor. The Mishnah adds that this applies to groups of five, three, two, and even one person alone with the text.
This Mishnah is remarkable in two ways. First, it tells us that even a single person studying Torah is never truly alone. The moment a person engages the texts of Jewish tradition they enter into conversation with all who did so throughout the generations.
Secondly, the Mishnah does not specify what sort of people evoke Divine immanence. Ten learned people? Ten unlearned people? Ten men or ten women? The Mishnah is intentionally broad in its formulation. This teaches us that study of shared texts provides a higher order of inclusivity than shared ritual. And this suggests that shared study should be the foundation for strengthening Jewish community across denominations.
Torah study, properly speaking, does not oblige us to arrive at a single opinion or a definitive resolution. Tradition as embodied in the Talmud preserved many contending arguments to impress upon us the value of sacred argument, of considering all approaches to the text. In the words of the Sages we are called upon to find the space in our minds for both those who read a text to permit and those who read it to prohibit. Torah study requires of us to make our heart contain many rooms, that is, to value disparate approaches simultaneously (Tosefta, Sotah 7:12).
Each denomination makes exclusive claims on ritual observance, but no one denomination holds exclusive rights to the corpus of Jewish tradition. Indeed, the rabbis of antiquity even understood the revelation at Sinai to be one of a multiplicity of understandings and interpretations (Pesikta de’Rav Kahana 12).
Only at great cost will we neglect the need for a new paradigm of shared Jewish community building. Rates of disaffection are climbing in the American Jewish community, and it does no good to compound the fracture. The Jewish community requires a culture of respectful discourse that both values and makes room for the denominational space of private devotion, while maintaining a shared global space of collective activity.
Placing ritual at the center of that global space hinders group cohesion. It is through shared Torah study that we can craft a solid and viable foundation for an inclusive Jewish community.
In the words of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel in The Earth is the Lord’s, “In this hour we, the living, are the people of Israel. The tasks begun by the patriarchs and prophets and continued by their descendants are now entrusted to us. We are either the last Jews or those who will hand over the entire past to generations to come. We will either forfeit or enrich the legacy of ages.” And it is an opportunity that we must not forfeit.
Rabbi Ben Greenberg is the Orthodox rabbi of Harvard Hillel, Jewish Chaplain of Harvard University, and the Co-Director of the Seif Jewish Learning Initiative on Campus at Harvard. His latest book is Covenantal Promise and Destiny: Wisdom for Life. He lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts, with his wife Sharon.
Comments:
At any rate, insofar as Jews are concerned, there is nothing to be gained, and everything to be lost, through compromise with the more progressive elements of the "reform". Demography is destiny, and demography is on the side of those who hold to tradition, particularly the Orthodox. The math is irrefutable:
Reform Jews have, on the average, about 1.5 children. They also marry outside of Judaism about 50% of the time. Of those who do, their children cease to practice Judaism or even recognize themselves as Jews about 75% of the time. So how many Reformed Jews pass on to the next generation? About 1.5 x 0.5 x 0.25, or 0.56 for every couple. At that rate, the number of Reformed Jews will decrease by 50% over the next generation (perhaps offset slightly by a trickle of conversions).
On the other hand, the total fertility rate for Orthodox Jews is approximately 4.0. Almost all of them marry Orthodox Jews, and of them more than 75% continue to practice Orthodox Judaism. So, the practical growth rate for Orthodox Jews = 4.0 x .75 =3.0. At that rate, the number of Orthodox Jews will increase by 50% over the next generation, and will double in two generations.
About 38% of American Jews are Reformed, 33% are Conservative, 22% are Orthodox and 2% are Reconstructionist. Conservative Judaism appears stagnant, and the Reform is shrinking rapidly, while reconstructionism will remain utterly irrelevant. Projecting forward about 50 years, the landscape will change significantly, with Orthodox Judaism becoming dominant, Reform and Conservative Judaism diminishing.
One might well ask why, and the answer can be found in the fate of the Mainline Protestant denominations that Reform Judaism apes so mindlessly (I have on more than one occasion said that Reformed Judaism is like Unitarianism, "but without the theological rigor"). A faith that has no roots and makes no demands on its members, that reduces its tenets to a wishy-washy ethical system, has no hold over its adherents, and they will either drift into indifference or go seeking more substantial spiritual nourishment.
For both Judaism and Christianity, the future lies with a return to Tradition, and in particular to a rediscovery of the centrality of ritual to faith, for as Bangwell Putt tried to put it, "Lex orandi, lex credendi"--the rule of prayer is the rule of faith. Ritual habituates us to certain modes of behavior and of thought, and those who dispense with ritual fall back on the slender reed of intellect, which has proven time and again incapable of sustaining the burden of faith against the weight of the world.
I do like the notion of "lex orandi lex vivendi"--the rule of prayer is the rule of life--but I don't think it workable in practice, because prayer needs the undergirding of faith in order to affect life, while, iteratively, faith cannot be sustained without prayer.
For better or for worse, I'm not sure which, ritual IS where the rubber hits the road -- the daily practice reinforces the theological structure. I'm afraid that the best we will do on this is agree to disagree.
Liked the image of even one person learning alone, though.
Indeed, it does. It shows the undisguised disrespect and disdain "progressive" elements have for tradition and all who believe in it. Among Christians, there is a joke: What is the difference between a terrorist and a liturgist? You can negotiate with a liturgist. It is good to know the joke works for Jews as well.
But, in the long run, I remain sanguine about the prospects for tradition prevailing. It is, as Jaroslav Pelikan said, the living faith of the dead, and the dead outnumber the progressives by a long shot--both numerically and in wisdom as well. And, as I noted, those who want to maintain the faith of their fathers, Christians and Jews alike, are putting their money where their mouths are--by going forth, and being fruitful, and multiplying. And passing their faith onto their children.
Progressives not so much.
One person learning alone is a good description of the last progressive--except for the learning part.
This leaving God out of things is a theme of your article. You write:
'The Mishnah (the first written compendium of rabbinical law) states in Tractate Avot (3.6) that when ten people are gathered to study Torah, the Divine presence dwells amongst them. In other words, there is holiness and authenticity in their endeavor.'
That is not 'in other words'. God being present is a fact about God, not about the endeavour of his creatures.
'This Mishnah is remarkable in two ways. First, it tells us that even a single person studying Torah is never truly alone. The moment a person engages the texts of Jewish tradition they enter into conversation with all who did so throughout the generations.'
Here again the reason a single person studying Torah is supposed to be never alone is not that past generations of dead Jews are conversing with them in some metaphorical sense, but that God is present with them.
Rabbi Greenberg makes a baffling statement: "the rabbis of antiquity even understood the revelation at Sinai to be one of a multiplicity of understandings and interpretations (Pesikta de’Rav Kahana 12)." What does this mean? Surely, the ancient rabbis were unanimous in their understanding that G-d revealed Himself to the nation of Israel at Mount Sinai, as written in the book of Exodus.
I think, the proper answer was 'one can negotiate with the _terrorist_'.
Why? During heydays of the Spirit of Vatican II both clerical-professional (at the curial and seminarian level) and lay-amateur (at the parish) held tight grip on liturgical life peddling just about any crazy idea they would come up with in the morning of the day, without any regard to the tradition. The proposals were usually non-negotiable.
They are loosing power lately, at least in the Latin Church, but the Eastern Catholic Metropolia of Pittsburgh repossessed the baton. I'm glad I found the Virginian Melkites...
John Lamont - I believe you are viewing my frame of reference from a primarily christological perspective. A dominant perspective in traditional Judaism is that the goal, theologically speaking, is to cause the Divine presence to be manifest in this world and not to bring oneself up to the Divine presence. Thus, the rabbinic outlook is from a human-centered perspective (i.e. What actions can people take to cause the Divine presence to be manifest here?) and not the other way around. The endeavor of "creatures" impacts the reality of God as experienced in this world.
On to your second point, the answer in a classically Jewish way is yes and no. Yes, God is present with the lone person studying Torah but it is also true that all the generations of past sages and those who have endeavored and made their mark in the area of Torah learning are all present with him. Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, of blessed memory, made this point much more eloquently than I could ever do.
Mr. Peabody - I see that I was not sufficiently clear in the description of the event. It was not that grace was forsaken altogether only the formal "zimmun," the group invitation to the grace. In regards to your second point, I provided the reference in rabbinic literature so that an inquiring person may look up the reference for themselves. I did not make that statement rather the "ancient rabbis" made that assertion and I simply wrote it in English. You are right to state that the rabbis were unanimous that God revealed Himself to Israel at Mount Sinai but the quote was not questioning that fact but rather was discussing the question of what does it mean to have the Divine speak to people, can one voice be reflected in different ways to different ears? That was the question the "ancient rabbis" took up.
As far as "Moving Beyond Ritual" is concerned: One has to assume that the ritual that should be moved beyond is that which is termed "empty" or "rigid". In Catholicism a case is presented for another approach. It is that the "lex credendi" is manifested to our senses in the "lex orandi" and is therefore not, to say the leas,t in any way empty.
The formulation "lex orandi, lex credendi, lex vivendi" is also offered. I understand that this is easier said than done and that agreement in these matters will occur through divine inspiration or not at all.