Survival or Renewal

In every generation, Jews have openly wondered whether they would be the last Jewish generation to walk this earth. At the beginning of today’s Torah reading, Abraham’s wife, Sarah, the matriarch of our people, passes from this earth. Abraham’s son Isaac, understandably scarred from his near-death experience at the top of Mount Moriah (not to mention the therapy-inducing circumstance of growing up in the home of the founding father of ethical monotheism), was showing no sign of “putting himself out there,” on JDate, JSwipe or JCrush or any other Jewish dating platform. Fertility problems were an open secret in the family, not to mention the looming shadow of late-marriage and non-marriage. God forbid, Abraham tells his servant Eliezer, that his son Isaac should take a daughter of Canaan for a wife. “Go unto my country, to my kindred, to take a wife for my son Isaac,” Abraham orders his servant. Abraham would not be the last Jewish parent to intervene in order to secure Jewish grandchildren, setting the stage for Adin Steinsaltz’s observation that “A Jew is not one whose grandparents are Jewish but one who wants his or her grandchildren to be Jewish.” (Cited in Magid, p. 22). The stakes were too high to take any chances; our very survival as a Jewish people was on the line, and Abraham was prepared to do whatever it took to make sure that his, the first Jewish generation, would not also be the last.

I have long been fond of quoting Simon Rawidowicz’s famous essay bearing the title “Israel: The Ever-Dying People,” in which he relates that every age and stage of Jewish existence has believed itself to be the last one. Whether because of persecution, dispersion, or the forces of assimilation, we are a people marked by the perennial belief that we are at risk of extinction, until of course, the next generation arrives – utterly convinced of the same. Rawidowicz argues that our multi-millennial against-the-odds survival as a people has not been due to the presence of this “ever-dying” anxiety, but rather that in every generation this mentality has been leveraged to action, producing responses capable of bridging us from strength to strength, one Jewish generation to the next.

And now it is our generation’s moment to respond to our people’s recurring cri de coeur. The numbers speak for themselves: some 70% of born-Jews marry born non-Jews. Study after study reveals what we see with our own eyes, the precipitous decline in the Jewishly engaged, or what Dr. Steven Cohen identifies as “the Jewish middle.” And while the fact of a single lost soul is of ultimate concern, the compounded effects of this decline are increasingly felt by the community as a whole. Federations, JCCs, Jewish day schools and synagogues are all, to put it mildly, feeling the pinch. Unlike say, debates on global warming in our post-truth world, on this one the facts are not being disputed; the effects are in plain sight. The question we face is the same question faced by Abraham, faced by every Jewish generation, namely: What must we do to ensure that we are not the last Jewish generation?

It was a great honor to welcome Drs. Shaul Magid and Steven Cohen into our community to square off on this very subject just over a week ago. I want to thank Rabbi Zuckerman for making the evening possible, the kickoff to our community conversation on the changing boundaries of American Jewry. While the ostensible topic of the evening was how the Conservative Movement should respond to the challenge of intermarriage, it was the question that lay beneath the surface of the speakers' remarks that, I believe, sits at the crux of American Jewry’s present choices, and to which I would like to speak today.

Both in his remarks that evening, and, in a soon-to-be-published article, Dr. Magid outlines two historic responses to the anxiety over Jewish continuity, the first he calls “survivalism,” and the second he calls “renewal.” The survivalist instinct takes on many forms. Its goal, as the name suggests, is the physical survival of Jews at all costs. When threatened, we create Jewish defense leagues. When loved too much by our non-Jewish neighbors, prompting fears of assimilation, we circle the wagons, like Abraham, and create networks of Jewish identity that serve to stack the odds of having Jewish grandchildren in our favor. Renewal sees the same worrisome landscape but responds to it not with an eye to saving the Jewish people, or even defining what Judaism is or isn’t but rather “liberating and transforming Judaism from a state of atrophy to a state of vitality.” (Magid) Engaging curriculum, musical creativity, spirited prayer, ritual innovation – these are the interventions of renewal that seek radical transformations of Jewish expression in order to create a Jewish renaissance.

In practical terms, the survivalist and renewal categories are easy enough to track in the Jewish world. ADL’s fight against anti-Semitism, AIPAC’s fight against the Iran deal – these are efforts aimed at Jewish survival. So too, arguably, a program like Birthright, which – God bless it – as a fabulously successful Jewish mating ritual is also about the survival of the Jewish people. Jewish renewal, on the other hand, Magid argues, can be found in the work of the movement bearing its name, Jewish Renewal, but also in Chabad and elsewhere – efforts aimed at bringing out the essence of Judaism and the essential Jewish spark buried deep within every Jew. I would argue that any Jewish venture, cultural, religious, educational or otherwise, whose purpose is to bring forth the most dynamic expression of Jewish life and living, independent of ideological framework – that is Jewish renewal at work.

Even if you were not at last week’s lecture, I imagine you can sense by now that given the choice between the tactics of survival or renewal, in Dr. Magid’s mind it is the latter that recommends itself for the Jewish future. No game is won by playing defense. In order to win the Jewish future, the Jewish people must field a dynamic and compelling Judaism, a Judaism worth defending, a Judaism that is willing, if necessary, to color outside the lines, if doing so succeeds in attracting those who stand at the edges and beyond the edges of the community. Living in fear of the non-Jew who hates us or loves us too much is just not a winning strategy. Furthermore, without a vibrant Judaism, what exactly is the point of Jewish survival, as stated best by Saadia Gaon (in the tenth century): “Jews exist for the sake of Torah alone.” (cited by Magid) The focus of the renewalist is on the Torah, not on survival merely for the sake of survival.

While time does not permit me to do justice to his position, it is clear both from his remarks the other evening, and in his published and unpublished writing, that Dr. Cohen believes otherwise. Dr. Cohen flips Saadia Gaon’s dictum on its head, arguing im ein yehudim, ein yahadut, “If there are no Jews, then there is no Judaism.” Valuable as good rabbis, cantors, prayer, and education may be, investments in religious inspiration will not, according to Cohen, ensure the Jewish future. We must, in his mind, redouble our efforts to strengthen Jewish social networks, in cities, in high school, on campuses, at summer camps, on Israel trips, in preschools and otherwise, giving Jews every opportunity to do Jewish with other Jews. We must invest in youth groups, Moishe Houses, conversion efforts, and massive “Jewish public health” education with the hope that through such efforts, more Jewish parents will “approach Jewish child-rearing with greater information and intentionality.” (Cohen) We can never go back to the shtetl, but if we want a Jewish future, we need Jews, which means we need to enact a series of interventions which will create a close-knit Jewish community. These are the efforts, the survivalist argues, that will ensure the Jewish future.

The debate was, and remains, a good one. If you missed it, you can listen to it on Park Avenue Podcast and come to our Master Class on December 12. If nothing else, it was a great discussion because the categories of “survival” and “renewal” are incredibly useful to frame our priorities not just as an American Jewish community but right here in our synagogue.

We often categorize our efforts with the labels of “tradition” and “change,” liberal or conservative, or, more often than not, denominational affiliation – Orthodox, Conservative, or Reform. What if, I wonder, forward-thinking Jews asked a different question? What percentage of what we are doing and supporting is aimed at Jewish renewal and what percentage is aimed at Jewish survival? Are we writing checks to Jewish defense organizations but forgetting to fund synagogues, day schools, and those places training the next generations of Jewish educators, rabbis, and cantors? Are we telling our children that they must marry Jewish because we want Jewish grandchildren, fighting the Iran Deal, but neglecting to model Jewish lives worthy of emulation? And the opposite is also the case. Even the best rabbis and cantors will not stem the demographic exodus we face. The forces of assimilation are more formidable than any sermon can counter, no matter how inspiring. The most effective prayer group or study circle will not protect Israel against her hostile neighbors or American Jewry against populist strains of anti-Semitism. As the speakers themselves ultimately acknowledged last week, it is not either/or; it is both/and. The categories are complementary, not competitive, and many efforts – like Jewish camping and Jewish day school and, for that matter, the State of Israel – that fit squarely within both. There is also a chicken-and-egg aspect to the debate. What comes first: a strong Judaism or a strong Jewish community? The answer, of course, is that they are interdependent; each effort needs the other to succeed. No different than any portfolio that seeks balance among a variety of investment options, each one of us and our congregation as a whole must make sure that our efforts are allocated judiciously. We must light Shabbat candles and we must fight anti-Semitism, we must send our kids on Birthright and we must invest in Jewish education – and so on.

The critical scene of our Torah reading was when Eliezer, charged with the mission of finding his master’s son a spouse of suitable lineage, stood at the crossroads with the Jewish future on the line and prayed for guidance. It was precisely then, before he had even finished his prayer, that Rebecca appeared and drew water from the well, for Eliezer and for his camels, an act both physically restorative, and more importantly, signaling the spiritual revitalization which he sought. The combination of her lineage with the life-giving waters she drew forth would secure the Jewish future – at least until the challenges of the next generation.

Ours is a generation at a crossroads. As did our forebears, we too worry about the Jewish future, we too wonder if we are the last. No different than our Torah reading, the future of our people will be found by identifying those well-springs of vitality and those Rebecca-like individuals capable of drawing out sustenance for a generation in need. U-r’eh vanim l’vanekha, shalom al yisrael. May we see the children of our children and peace over all of Israel. (Psalms 128:6) May this, the greatest blessing our people know, be ours to enjoy as we work together, by any means necessary, to build the Jewish future our people so richly deserves.

_____________
Shaul Magid, “From Kiruv to Continuity: Survivalism and Renewal as Competing Categories in Judaism (Unpublished)

Steven M Cohen, “The Shrinking Jewish Middle – And What to Do about It” (Unpublished)