Dialogue Between the Generations

As I begin my fifth year at Park Avenue Synagogue, I have had many opportunities to reflect on what it means to stand on the cusp of a generational shift in American Jewry. One hundred and thirty years of congregational history, generations of families, the stature of our past rabbis, the stature of our congregants – if there has ever been a synagogue that prides itself on being an institution of American Jewish life, this is the one. And here I am, technically a member of Generation X, born and bred in sunny Southern California no less, part of the MTV generation, more “Star Wars” than “Godfather,” more “Thriller” than “Off the Wall,” part of the era of Gretzky, Magic and Bird. Entrusted with the literal and figurative keys to this synagogue, I find that my job comes down to a dialogue between generations, determining how the Judaism treasured by one generation will be received and transmitted by the generation that follows. It is a delicate conversation to manage. On the one hand I need to assure one side that what is most important to them will be passed down unchanged and untarnished. Yet I need the next generation to know that the Judaism I invite them to practice is a response to them and their moment, not that of their parents and grandparents. It is not easy to manage this balancing act, but there is no conversation more important, not only to this synagogue, but to the future of American Jewry.

I was reminded of the sensitivities involved in negotiating this tension last week, when I read an article by my former teacher Professor Jack Wertheimer in the July issue of Commentary magazine. Professor Wertheimer is a historian of the highest rank, past Provost of the Jewish Theological Seminary, a keen observer of the American Jewish scene, a fine human being and a caring Jew. I think I received an A- in his class and I hope my comments this morning won’t stop him from being a scholar-in-residence here at Park Avenue Synagogue in the future.

Wertheimer’s article is called “The Ten Commandments of American Jewry.” I left copies of it in the hallway for you to read once you are home. The article laments the profound and problematic transformations characterizing American Jewry in the last few decades. At our own peril, we have turned our energies towards universal concerns at the expense of being attentive to the Jewish condition. More interested in performing acts of social justice/tikkun olam, we neglect tending to our parochial needs. We are more interested in criticizing Israel than in embracing a tribal peoplehood or nationalism. One by one, Wertheimer lists the ten new “commandments” adopted by American Jewry that have superseded the commanding voice of Mount Sinai. In a rush to be pluralistic, non-judgmental and inclusive, Jewish leadership refuses to draw lines. What’s worse, we air our dirty laundry in public, insisting not only that all views be heard, but that these conversations happen in the public sphere – on the web, Huffington Post and the opinion page of the New York Times. So concerned is this rising Jewish generation with celebrating a Jewishness that is personal and meaningful, that the threats Israel faces and the memory of those murdered in the Shoah have been shunted to the background.

Wertheimer doesn’t attack me personally, but he does point to a book I edited as representative of what he perceives as the betrayal of Jewish particularism by the next generation. While I am thankful for the free publicity (the book is now available in paperback), what he says about me and my colleagues is not pleasant. He charges that in the next generation’s gaze towards our universal condition, we have become blinded to our own needs. In our pursuit of global citizenship, we have abdicated the Jewish claim to the future.

It is a tough pill to swallow, not just for me personally, but in his assessment of the next generation. A bleak picture, a stinging rebuke and an ominous prophesy for the Jewish future.

Ultimately, there are two questions that really matter. Number one: Is Wertheimer correct in his characterizations? And number two: Is Wertheimer helpful? This morning, I can tell you that as sure as I am that the answer to the first question is “yes, he is correct,” I am doubly sure the answer to the second question is a categorical “no, he is not helpful.”

Wertheimer is absolutely correct that the pendulum of Jewish life, which 50 years ago swung towards a post-Holocaust, Israel-in-crisis, parochial set of concerns has now swung in the other direction, towards universalism. Many of his characterizations are spot on, in that the present language of Jewish life seeks to be pluralistic, personal, non-judgmental, inclusive, meaningful, willing to be critical of Israel and willing to criticize Israel publicly. Wertheimer wrote it, I agree with him and I agree that the essays in the book I edited only serve to drive the point home.

But as to whether Wertheimer is helpful or not – on that, I feel the need to respond. It strikes me that with all his insight, all his finger wagging, all his intergenerational condescension, Wertheimer misses a significant point: a dialogue goes two ways. Nowhere does Wertheimer admit the inconvenient question of how American Jewry got here in the first place. There is no causality in Wertheimer’s thinking. Nowhere is there an allowance that the challenges facing present-day Jewry were bequeathed by the very leaders who are now so critical.

I could, if I wanted to, also write an article in Commentary. I could write that the present deficiencies in Jewish literacy are a consequence of a decades-long troubled model of congregational education. I could write about the challenges presently facing Jewish day schools, and I could point a finger at the past generation for having failed to create a sustainable and affordable model for my peers and myself who now want to send our kids to Jewish day school and Jewish summer camps.

I could ask publicly why it is that non-Orthodox synagogues have such a hard time getting a community to turn out to pray on a Friday night or Shabbat morning. But in order to ask that question in its fullness, I imagine I would probably have to examine the decisions made by the past generation, who in investing enormous resources in building magnificent houses of worship, somehow forgot that the most important investment in building synagogue life is the cost-free act of taking your child to shul and teaching them the value and power of prayer in community.

I share Wertheimer’s concern about my generation’s slackening connection to the American Jewish Establishment. But who is really to blame? The next generation who isn’t affiliating or the past generation for its repeated and continued inability to redefine, re-brand and restructure itself? Is it really so difficult to understand why someone would hesitate to support organizations that – in some cases, even by the quiet admission of some of their own leadership – have outlived their initial mission?

I also worry about a perceived distancing of young American Jewry from Israel. Somewhere along the way it has become easier for a Jew to openly criticize Israel than to openly love it. But that conversation didn’t start this spring with Peter Beinart; that conversation started 45 years ago with the building of settlement blocs which, to the best of my knowledge, run contrary to the present Israeli policy of a two-state solution. Are we really ready to label someone anti-Zionist just because they have difficulty comprehending policies that are incomprehensible to Israelis themselves?

I could, if I wanted to, write an article in Commentary about the problem of Jews under forty holding prickly Jewish conversations in the public domain. I could, but I won’t, because Jews under forty are not the readership of Commentary magazine.

I could, if I wanted, do all these things. I could, but I won’t. Why? Because it strikes me as both ungracious and unproductive to lay my present-day problems at the doorstep of another generation. Wertheimer’s article is counterproductive because rather than engendering intergenerational discussion it engenders intergenerational hostility. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a generation that created the very challenges facing the Jewry that I have been entrusted to educate and inspire and that then questions the manner in which I do so.

Intergenerational finger pointing does not serve the Jewish future. We can all play that game, but I choose to work on the assumption that the past generation, like my generation, does what every passionate generation of Jews has done – the very best it can. I would rather just say “thank you.” Thank you for everything you did and continue to do. For doing your best, for freeing Soviet Jewry, for AIPAC, for my education, for Jewish Studies Chairs across America, for Israel, for honoring the memory of those murdered in the Shoah. Thank you for Phillip Roth, for Woody Allen; thank you for USY, thank you for JTS, thank you for it all. Whatever the gripes I may have with the Jewish world I received, they are infinitesimal when compared to my full-throated gratitude for the gifts that I can never repay and can only pray that I live up to.

But now it is time to allow for the possibility that the landscape is different than it was in the past generation.

If I choose to build a caring community whose mission is defined as seeking “pride” and “joy” and “meaning” in being Jewish, it is because the calling cards of “Never Again” and “Israel in Crisis,” important as they are, have proven to be inadequate drivers for contemporary Jewish identity.

If the Judaism I teach and preach is a Judaism that seeks authenticity without judgment, inclusiveness not guilt, and personal meaning before ideological loyalty, then maybe it is because I think the landscape of Jewish life has changed and past formulations do not stand a chance in the present marketplace of ideas.

If I find myself emphasizing aspects of Jewish identity that speak to universal concerns like tikkun olam, maybe it is (a) because as far back as Abraham, God commanded us to be a light unto nations, and (b) because for a non-Orthodox Jewry that does not have a natural point of contact with Jewish observance, is it really such an odd tactic to seek Jewish engagement by way of common ethical concern? After all, when a would-be convert asked the ancient sage Hillel to summarize all of Judaism while the questioner stood on one foot, Hillel responded, “that which is hateful unto you, do not do unto others.” For this you need to go to a rabbi, for this you need Judaism?! This is the most universal statement of interpersonal ethics I can imagine. I suspect Hillel knew what many Jewish leaders today know, that for the initiate to our faith – the first task is to find an agreeable point of entry and establish common ground. I imagine Hillel’s goal, like that of my peers and myself, was to cultivate Jewish communities filled with learned, observant and passionate Jews. I reject the rhetorical ploy that one must choose between the universal and particular, the cosmopolitan or the tribal. Our model, my model, is based on the belief that by living an engaged Jewish life we are serving not just the Jewish future, but all of humanity at one and same time.

It would be nice, I suppose to be a rabbi in time when everyone keeps Shabbat, observes kashrut, comes to shul and gives to UJA. Frankly, I don’t think such a time ever existed, but if it did, it doesn’t exist now. Each one of us is born into the time in which we live and it serves neither us nor any other generation to condescend or blame another. I would like to think that the best thinkers of each generation can find a way to sit down together and have honest and chest-expanding conversations, without condescension, without blame, and discuss how the Judaism we all love so much can find continued vibrancy in an ever-shifting landscape. We all bear the name of the generation that came before us, and we are all invested in the success of the next.

Last night, like every Friday night, I blessed my children at my Shabbat table, the same blessing that we read in this week’s parashah: “May God bless you and protect you; may God’s light shine on you and be gracious unto you; may God’s countenance be turned towards you and grant you shalom.” I draw my children close – panim-el-panim, face to face – sharing the Judaism that I have learned and love, holding my breath, nervously aware that my children will confront the world not on my terms, but on their terms, with answers particular to them. I must help shape that future, but ultimately it is not my future – it is theirs. I bless them smiling inwardly, imagining that day in the not-too-distant future when they too, please God, will hold their breath, blessing their children, my grandchildren, with the words of our tradition handed down for millennia.