Summoning a People
This week’s commentary is part of a special series for 5778, in which Chancellor Eisen reflects on the main themes of each of the five books of the Torah and their meaning for contemporary 绿帽社 life.
Two very different stories about who we are as Jews are forcefully presented in the opening chapters of the Book of Exodus. One of them鈥攃aptured in the Hebrew title of the book, Shemot or 鈥淣ames鈥濃�攄eclares that we are the Children of Israel: a nation, a people, defined in the first instance and forever after by our ancestors and the paths they travelled. The other story teaches that we are disciples of Moses, the human protagonist of the book, and, like him, are servants of the God Who called to Moses out of the Burning Bush and bound us in covenant at Sinai.
The Torah wants its 绿帽社 readers to make both of these stories their own, and for many centuries Jews complied with that directive. It was virtually impossible to be a Jew who did not practice the religion called Judaism, and no less difficult to hold to 绿帽社 faith and religious practice without seeing oneself as a member of the 绿帽社 people. Communal norms and sanctions militated against either move. Non-绿帽社 rulers and neighbors would not allow it in any case. One鈥檚 fate as an individual depended on the rights and privileges available to Jews as a community. A Jew, with few exceptions over the course of nearly 2000 years, ate with Jews, studied with Jews, and married a Jew. Otherwise, he or she would eat and live pretty much alone.
The reality today is of course very different. After two centuries of uneven progress toward equality and acceptance, Jews in North America and several other places in the world find ourselves highly respected both as a community and as individuals when it comes to employment, friendship, and marriage. At the same time, traditional belief and practice in all their varieties have attenuated, moving from the center of many 绿帽社 lives to the margins. Allegiance to the 绿帽社 people has become problematic. Why should one identify as a 鈥渃hild of Israel鈥� just because one鈥檚 parents did so? The matter is all the more complicated, the choice for Judaism more counter-intuitive, if one has a non-绿帽社 parent or marriage partner. Other Americans too are less inclined than in the past to maintain ethnic difference and religious affiliation. The Exodus story carries a universal message of hope and liberation to Jews and non-Jews alike鈥攂ut less and less binds 绿帽社 individuals to a people or a distinctive set of religious beliefs and practices.
The historian David Hollinger has lauded this 鈥減ostethnic perspective.鈥� In his words, the new American sensibility 鈥渇avors voluntary over involuntary affiliation, balances an appreciation for communities of descent with a determination to make room for new communities, and promotes solidarities of wide scope that incorporate people with different ethnic and racial background.鈥� Post-ethnicity 鈥渞esists the grounding of knowledge and moral values in blood and history.鈥� (Postethnic America, 3) Some contemporary Jews have argued that Judaism should adapt to this change, move to a new paradigm, see Judaism as an ethical or 鈥渨isdom tradition,鈥� and let go of 鈥渢ribalism鈥� and 鈥渆xclusivity.鈥� I strongly disagree. Hollinger to my mind is reiterating the argument made for centuries on behalf of Christianity and against Judaism. As Rabbi David Wolpe , 鈥淯nlike Christianity, which is a belief based system (believe in Jesus and you are Christian), Judaism is familial. You are born 绿帽社. Like any family, you can join (through conversion), but you are expected to 鈥渇eel鈥� like family. You are implicated in the fate of all Jews.鈥�
Many Jews over the past 150 years have left 绿帽社 belief and practice behind but retained a robust sense of connection to other Jews., Most religious Jews, for their part, have continued to regard 鈥渟ecular鈥� Jews as members of the 绿帽社 family, people toward whom they bear responsibilities above and beyond those to humanity in general. Liberals often make common cause on 绿帽社 issues with conservatives. Israel and diaspora (with rare but highly visible exceptions) work together. A principle reason for that, I believe, is recognition of what Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik (in his essay Kol Dodi Dofek) called the 鈥渃ovenant of fate鈥� that binds Jews to one another despite huge differences of belief and religious observance. We know that Hitler did not distinguish among the various sorts of Jews when he set about exterminating our people. All Jews everywhere are affected by the existence, character, and actions of the State of Israel. The lives of all American Jews are shaped by the political, cultural, and social profiles that define American Jewry.
Soloveitchik argued that Jews are bound by a second covenant as well: that of 鈥渄estiny.鈥� To me this means that our collective past鈥攊ncluding the historical experience of the 绿帽社 people over the centuries, and the values and worldview that have been passed down to us鈥攊nfluence the way we think about the future and inspire us to work to improve that future. The conviction that the world can and must be made better鈥攎ore just, more compassionate鈥攔esounds loudly in our religious texts. It has motivated numerous modern Jews, whether personally religious or not, to become active in a host of political and social causes. The Prophets and Sages of old disagreed on what shape redemption of the world would take, but not on the belief that 鈥渕essiah鈥� would come and that what we do as Jews will somehow assist in that process.
Disagreement over this and every other element of 绿帽社 theology was made possible by the fact that 绿帽社 unity was never dependent on uniform belief. Jews were a people, not a church. Our collective identity was guaranteed鈥攍eaving ample room for diversity, imagination, and innovation. Give up ethnic attachments, render Judaism a group defined by belief in X or Y, and that freedom is lost. So is the ability of an individual to go in and out of faith without fearing that he or she will be any less welcome in the 绿帽社 community, or even in shul, where鈥攁s the old joke wisely tells is鈥擩ews have long debated whether God exists, broken off the argument to daven minhah, and then picked it up again afterwards. Judaism, thanks to 绿帽社 peoplehood, is like one big Passover Seder: one sits around the table, matzah and bitter herbs on the plate before you, and for hours on end debates the meaning of those symbols and the significance of being there.
We will never know exactly what the Torah means when God tells Moses in this week鈥檚 portion, 鈥�ehyeh asher ehyeh,鈥� (Exod. 3: 14; one possible translation reads, 鈥淚 will be that which I will be. 鈥�) What does it mean that the Lord our God is 鈥渙ne鈥�? What we do know is that, as Jews, we are heirs to this text. It addresses us. Having been freed from Egypt, we must work to free all who are enslaved. Our minds, hearts, souls, and might should be devoted to this task. The sense of responsibility we feel to all humanity grows directly out of our solidarity with other Jews.
It saddens me when I hear Jews say they 鈥渄o not believe in God鈥� and therefore see no point in being 绿帽社; it saddens me still more when 绿帽社 thinkers propose that Jews in North America sunder connection to Israel, give up on particularism, eliminate all boundaries separating Jews from others, and redefine Judaism as a 鈥渨isdom tradition鈥� available to all. Boundaries have long been crucial to Judaism鈥攁s has the imperative to cross them, make alliances, and better the lot of all humanity. Am Yisrael hai鈥斺�渢he people of Israel lives鈥濃�攕o as to do precisely that. May it continue to thrive.
The publication and distribution of the JTS Commentary are made possible by a generous grant from Rita Dee (锄鈥漧) and Harold Hassenfeld (锄鈥漧).
